“To be honest, I don’t give a damn!”
Sean exclaimed. “The whole thing, twas a sham!
Twasn’t rape! Twasn’t nuttin!
That woman was mutton,
Dressed up as a tender young lamb!
Tag: rape
A lack of propriety
Mister Beasel, the sweatshop proprietor
Cast a long, lecherous eye at her;
Pretty, deaf-mute,
She’d be lovely to root,
Like the other poor girls, only quieter!
Initiation
She was buxom, big-arsed and plump-thighed.
The poor boy! He had no place to hide!
And him, scarcely developed,
Half-smothered, enveloped,
Bestraddled, cunt-struck, hers to ride!
Means to an end
To what tricks would the man not descend?
What disgusting things might he intend?
Liquor? Drugs? Well of course!
Money? Bondage? Brute force…
Till she’s brought to a sad, sticky end?
Virtue and necessity
Poor young wench, captive, raped, god-forsaken,
Home burned by barbarians, taken
Away on their ship,
(Her first overseas trip),
Unaccountably awed, though quite shaken.
Heaven and earth
Poor young lass, sorely used by the preacher,
In ways lewd and sinful, vile creature,
God’s servant indeed!
Saggy-bellied, weak-kneed,
And so unprepossessing of feature!
Coming of age
“Pa, he’s savin’ his skin I expec’,
Lyin’ skunk. He’s my brother, but heck!
He din’t fuck me, just watch,
But he et out my crotch!
He was in it right up to his neck!
Rank and privilege
The poor girl was, of course, overawed.
She kept mumbling “Yes sir. Yes m’lord.”
He was just like all men,
She found out but, by then,
She’d already been put to the sword!
No joy-ride
When he’d tied her up, yeah, she’d been willing,
(Some fantasy he was fulfilling),
She couldn’t escape…
It was pretty much rape…
Well, at least, one might say, less than thrilling!
Small mercy
“Well,” she thought. “That was rather distressing!”
Whilst wiping her pussy, and dressing.
“Damn lecherous beast!
He came quickly, at least,
Barely in me! That’s some sort of blessing!”