The Treadmill

by Peter Loaf
inspired by the art of Thorn

- do not use without the author's permission.


My spirit breaking,
   their stated goal
Limber sticks cutting,
   taking their toll
Pony in training
Painful the caning
Pumping their water,
   selling my soul

Arms up behind me,
   the treadmill spins
Water tanks filling,
   their happy grins
School for hard cases
Off to the races
Been running an hour,
   the bastard wins

Ill do as Im ordered,
   please let me off!
My cries of anguish,
   I choke and cough
Limber stick cutting
My captor rutting
Ponies in training,
   are his to boff

The treadmill stopping,
   taking the weight
My tortured shoulders,
   product of hate
The perverts ruling
The public fooling
Bill of rights canceled,
   Patriot fate

Thought cops and decoys,
   spies in our midst
The power of POWER,
   unhooking wrists
Limp and so broken
A final token
A whistled warning,
   my bottom kissed

Taken to stable,
   feet dragging limp
The matron follows,
   playing the pimp
Old bastard sporting
Trousers reporting
Tented and straining,
   big as a blimp

Hands and throat clamping,
   a set of stocks
Face down Im laying,
   head in a box
Welted and hurting
Pussy juice spurting
Pony in training,
   my world it rocks
   
Courtyard tomorrow,
   practice my form
Working in tandem,
   roommate from dorm
Belted and fitted
Welted and bitted
High stepping ponies,
   weather the storm
   
My future looking,
   ever so bleak
Pony girl training,
   its been a week
Two weeks remaining
Pussy juice staining
Pony girl auction,
   sold to some shiek