Cheerleader tryouts, loaded on bus Twenty-one virgins, and driver Gus Gone for ten hours Under his powers Darkness descending, before the fuss The bus well hidden, in quarry lake Each girl was naked, before awake Hands and throat locking Portable stocking Twenty-one virgins, a piece of cake Coffle connected, marching in file Helpless and naked, the endless mile The mine up ahead The coffle in dread The whip in his hand, matter of style “Twenty-one virgins, pony girls soon” His smile is twisted, his crazy croon “The market for girls” “Your weight in pearls” “White slavers coming, the first of June” Marched into mineshaft, so dark and deep Electric lighting, his hidden keep Deep in the mountain A natural fountain Iron gate clanging, “Lie down and sleep” Wrist and throat shackles, chained in a line Bunks in a circle, made out of pine Careful they’re moving Practice improving Old Gus returning, a jug of wine Each girl is tethered, chained to her bunk Gus getting tipsy, Gus getting drunk “Each of you bitches” “Will bring me riches” “Pony trained slave girls, shipped in a trunk” Bright desert morning, three ponies hitched Popping whip cracking, virgins bewitched Harness and blinders Arms up in binders Training continues, fresh ponies switched The virgins plotting, whispers at night His captive harem, just isn’t right Hymens unbroken Other holes pokin’ Captives kept helpless, and shackled tight The sound of a chopper, far to the West The reins he’s pulling, stopping to rest “Under this cover” “The choppers hover” “Lie down in traces.” Camouflaged nest The chopper passes, watched from below The crew unseeing, they never know Three helpless virgins Gus needs no urgin Stump-breaking session, his jizzum flow Back under cover, deep underground Butt fucked and broken, new ponies found Twenty-one pony More rides than Coney Gus and his harem, his pony pound Their last night together, thirtieth of May Each girl is given, clothes that display Harem clothes dressing The buyers kept guessing Twenty-one virgins, the bright new day Virgins in coffle, lead to the tent Forty of fifty, from markets sent Bidding beginning Old Gus is winning His fortune making, from perverts bent The choppers coming, loaded with cops Old Gus is captured, a road block stops The captives reported The buyers deported Twenty-one virgins, a taste for tops |