by Peter Loaf
Bridget and Mandy, captured on raid
Brought home to Stockholm, the slaving trade
Claimed by their chains
The Viking Danes
To market taken, never been laid
Redhead is feisty, her hands are tied
Hobble step tripping, farewell to pride
Fog bound and chilly
Two naked filly
Slave market waiting, ready to ride
Hands bound behind, hobble too short
The path so rocky, up to the fort
By captor hustled
The captives puzzled
Crude huts are clustered, the Danish court?
The Danes are farmers, not on a raid
The long ships rowing, their taxes paid
No use for castles
Indentured vassals
Field hands and breeders, the game as played
Taken to platform, hooks overhead
Stretching on tiptoes, nothing is said
The bidding begins
The big Viking wins
A big purse of gold, headed for bed
The buyer ugly, sword scared and burned
Berserker warrior, his gold he earned
The maidens follow
Up a long hollow
A crypto Christian, lessons unlearned
Taken to hovel, pushed to the furs
Maiden heads sundered, memory blurs
The painful pleasures
Their captive treasures
Their Master skilful, red pussy purrs
Brunet is tougher, not that he cares
The gag and shackles, training his mares
Three days of Master
Three night disaster
Secrets unraveled, ending her glares
Training completed, sent out to work
The harvest gathered, better not shirk
The field hands randy
Bridget and Mandy
Hobble chain helpless, call it a perk
