He smells like sweet sweat and rocket-
propelled grenades.
His ass is
the servant of his causes.
I hold him without trial and he doesn�t know the charges against him.
He is an �enemy combatant� and
the Geneva Conventions do not
apply to him.
He consents
to my intimate interrogations:
I blindfold him with my cock.
I stretch him out with handcuffs and
ankle irons.
My cockhead
cross-examines the hollow of his cheek.
His ass petitions for mercy with articulate
petals.
His throat performs perfect surrenders
to my perfect questions.
He writes down his seditions with
his lips while his mind slickens
with his perfect confessions.
I open his ass
with forceful admission.
SLAVES WANTED
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