by Peter Loaf

The rebelís daughter, caught in a raid
The message hidden, tied in her braid
Tried and convicted
Freedom restricted
Charged with high treason, her class betrayed

Exposed and naked, hands over head
The people gathered, the sentence said
A week in the square
So ripe and so rare
The shackles locking, her stomach lead

The girl so helpless, sheís on display
Her nipples tighten, her feet of clay
Spreader bar trapping
Her ankles strapping
Her pussy swelling, her state betray

The bailiff touches, tickle and tease
Her booby hefted, her nipple squeeze
The black snake cracking
Her pussy smacking
She screaming echoes, smelling her cheese

Left to the mercies, the stinking mob
Hung up and helpless, her muffled sob
The men invited
Their lust incited
The soldiers watching, doing their job

Soon she is screaming, her pussy creaming
Her wettest dreaming, her royal reaming
In passion gasping
Love muscle grasping
Her tears are streaming, townsmen teaming

Passion unwanted, she canít control
The hard cocks filling, taking their toll
The post detaining
Orgasms training
The rebelís daughter, living manhole

Whispered endearments, uncounted men
Shackled and helpless, girl without sin
Pussy juice gushing
Impassioned flushing
The blacksmithís giant, monster within

A signal sounding, a bugle calls
Her fatherís archers, up on the walls
The soldierís slaughter
The rescued daughter
The blacksmith falling, shot through the balls

The battle raging, Ďround helpless girl
Her passions linger, head in a whirl
Her fatherís rescue
The shackles undo
Wrapped in a blanket, his precious pearl

The new Queen crowning, her moment come
Her bastard baby, its life begun
By blacksmith fathered
In pussy lathered
The future monarch, the strongest one