Rebelís Last Stand
by Peter Loaf

Caravan trekking, the endless miles
A scout positioned, the rocky piles
The forces gather
The horses lather
At dawn attacking, the ruthless smiles

Defenders dying, the raging horde
Caravan captured, point of the sword
Merchants and chattel
Herded like cattle
Barbarous warrior, the Mongol lord

The chattel women, taken away
Stripped of their clothing, beauty display
Sex slaves in coffle
Their prospects awful
Hands tied behind them, the rapists play

The Lord of the Horde, defiant cry
Spirited beauty, catches his eye
Rapist confusing
Naked knee bruising
Rapist lies writhing, under the sky

His sword flat knocking, ending the fuss
Waking up helpless, her boobies trussed
A tent pole to hold
The rebel of old
Her Master standing, His look of lust

Her mouth positioned, the perfect height
His member swollen, fitting so tight
Her gargle gagging
Her tonsils bagging
Gripping her tresses, she does not bite

Pause in the action, a flogging rod
Nipples exploding, riding rough shod
Rebel reforming
Passion dance storming
Hard-tied and helpless, attitude mod

Fucking her windpipe, gargle and gasp
Her features bluing, coming at last
His semen swallow
Thereís more to follow
The rebelís breaking, His pleasant task

Subbie space wander, pleasure and pain
The slave within her, rises again
Sex and submission
Barbarous mission
Her function learning, pulling a train

The morning chilly, the desert wind
The coffle walking, trekking begin
The rebel riding
Saddle horn hiding
His charger prancing, his cock within

The steps of Asia, the empty land
Her juicy pussy, much in demand
Barbarian horde
Her apple cored
His charger charging, rebelís last stand