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Spring Break Slaves

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windar

Teller of Tales
CHAPTER TWELVE

As soon as they got back to their room, Tara headed for the bathroom, where she gingerly lowered her underpants-the friction of the cotton against her inflamed skin was painful-and she craned her neck to try to see her ass in the bathroom mirror, but the angle made it difficult to see the full picture. What she could see looked bright red.

“Dee!” she called. Delia poked her head in. “How bad does it look?” Tara asked.

“Like something from a horror movie,” Delia replied.

Tara looked dismayed. “Really?”

Delia knelt to get a closer look. “No, just kidding. It’s red like an apple, pretty much all over, but there’s no blood or anything, like Amanda had.”

“That’s good, I guess, but it’s still burning, like when you get too much sun,” Tara said.

Delia pulled her panties down. She winced as Tara had from the contact. “How does mine look?” she asked.

Tara examined her friend’s butt. “Like how you described mine. He and Kelly might pretend that this is all fun and games, but that bastard really hit hard and it hurt like hell.”

“You’re not kidding, girlfriend,” Delia said. “Things are getting serious here. And this guy’s the gentleman of the group according to Kelly. Imagine what the others are doing. If you say yes to their games, you suffer, but if you say no, you suffer even worse. We’ve got to get out of here and fast, before things get worse.”

“That’s easy to say, Dee, but how? We’re on a private island where everyone works for him and won’t rock the boat to help us. They don’t give a shit about us, really. We have no phone service or internet so we can’t contact anyone. And the guy who runs the country is in on it.”

“We’re fucked, Tara. And now it’s both literally and figuratively.”

“You said that before, Dee.”

“And I was right.”

“Yeah, so what do we do?”

“Beats the fuck out of me, Tara. Let’s go find that doctor and see if she can help us.”

“You think she would, Dee?”

“Help us escape, no. She works for him. In fact, we’d better pretend we’re having a great time here when we talk to her. But maybe she can give us something to ease the burning.”

“I don’t know. She seemed to be enjoying Amanda’s whipping.”

“You got a better idea? Should we go back and see the ‘Principal’ and ask him?”

Tara shook her head and slowly pulled her underpants back up. Delia did the same and they went in search of the doctor.

In the great room, one of the local women who worked around the house was cleaning the glass in the French doors that looked out on the sea. “Excuse me, miss. Can you tell us where the doctor’s office is?” Delia asked, careful to be polite.

“The Clinic?” she asked. Tara nodded. The woman pointed to a corridor that led off towards the back of the house. “You go down there. It’s on the left,” she replied with a strong Island lilt.

They quickly found the Clinic. The doctor, wearing green scrubs this time, rather than a bra and panties under a lab coat looked up from the magazine she was reading. “Yes, what is it?” she asked, seeming a bit irked to be disturbed.

“We’d like you to take a look at this,” Tara said. She slowly lowered her underwear. Delia did the same.

The doctor glanced at the two very red asses. “Yes,” she said.

“He hit us with a big wooden paddle. Six times each,” Tara added.

“The ‘Principal’?” the doctor asked. They nodded. “That’s his favorite game. To each his own.” She shrugged.

“He’s done that before?” Delia asked.

“Oh sure,” the doctor replied. “He’s a guest here, so he gets to do what he wants. I hope you pleased him.”

“He seemed to like it,” Tara said. “But it really hurts,” she complained.

The doctor looked again at their butts. “I’ve seen much, much worse. There’s some superficial inflammation and some bruising. No breaks in the skin, so no possibility of infection.”

“What about that stuff you put on Amanda after her whipping?”

The doctor laughed. “There’s no comparison. She had cuts and some serious welts.”

“Could we have some painkillers at least? Some ibuprofen or acetaminophen?” Delia asked.

The doctor shook her head. “Those are forbidden. The point of whatever punishment the Personal Companions are given is to hurt, so they learn their lesson or to please the guests as the case may be. Either way, painkillers would interfere.”

“So you won’t do anything to help us?”

The doctor went to a large cabinet against the wall. She opened it, rooted around a bit and handed them a bottle. It was an over-the-counter skin lotion that one could pick up in any pharmacy or supermarket. “It has aloe, lanolin and peppermint. Take a cool shower –that will reduce the burning sensation and then put some on. That’s the best I can tell you.”

“Thank you doctor,” Tara replied. “You’ve been very helpful.”

As soon as they were out the door, Delia muttered, “What a bitch!”

“The point of punishment is to hurt,” Tara mocked.

“Fuck her and everybody else here!” Delia said loud enough to overheard had anyone been in the hallway.

Back in their room, Tara undressed and padded into the bathroom. “I guess I’ll try a cool shower and some of that lotion afterwards. It can’t hurt I guess.”

“Right behind you girlfriend,” Delia said.

The cool water really did ease the burning in her ass, Tara found. She let it pour down her back for as long as she could, stopping only because she didn’t want to deny Delia her relief. She toweled off and laid face down naked on her bed, trying to process all that had happened in the past couple of days.

Just a few days ago, she had been a fairly innocent college girl from a small town, not a virgin, but with a rather vanilla sex life-a few boyfriends, a couple of hook ups, nothing out of the ordinary. And here she was, having sex with men under threat of severe punishment for failing to please them, having lesbian sex with her roommate and another woman, watching a college student like herself being mercilessly whipped and being paddled herself.

Her head swam. And the effect of the cool water had worn off. She reached for the bottle of lotion and squirted a bit on her hand and tried to apply it to her burning ass. “Here, let me help,” she heard Delia, who had emerged from her shower wrapped in a towel, offer.

“That would be great.”

Delia took the bottle of lotion from her, deposited a generous amount on her hands and began gently smoothing it all over Tara’s butt cheeks. “Oh, that feels good,” she purred.

“Just relax and enjoy,” Delia said, replenishing the lotion and continuing her stroking.

Tara closed her eyes and gave in to the very soothing feelings. “The only thing that makes being here bearable is that we’re together, Dee.”

“The Two Musketeers,” Dee replied. “Yeah, this would be even worse if I were alone.” Her hand had reached the bottom of Tara’s ass, where the cheeks joined her thighs. Slowly, but inexorably they strayed between Tara’s legs.

Tara turned her head back to look at her friend. “Is that OK?” Delia asked.

“Very OK,” Tara replied. Delia’s hands had reached her perineum, separating her vulva from the crack in her butt.

“How’s about you turn over? It’s hard for me to reach like this,” Delia suggested.

“I think lying on my back would hurt my ass,” Tara replied.

“You could get up on all fours,” Delia suggested. Tara raised herself up. There was a moment of pain as she moved, but once she got in position it felt alright. Delia applied more lotion to her hands.

Careful to avoid leaning her weight onto Tara’s sore butt, Delia got on her knees between Tara’s legs and resumed her hand’s journey towards Tara’s pussy. “You’re very wet, girlfriend,” she remarked as her fingers made contact with Tara’s labia. “Are you turned on or is it just water from the shower?”

Tara looked at her. “I really do feel horny. I mean, we’ve been having sex non-stop and even though the guys are weird old perverts, it’s still sex. Plus, I don’t know, the burning in my ass somehow seems to have made me hot. Weird isn’t it? I mean it’s not like I ever thought about being paddled before.”

“I don’t know what’s weird anymore,” Delia replied. “I guess I’m feeling it a bit, too, to be honest.”

“You want me to do you?” Tara asked.

“Yeah, I do, but after. You just enjoy yourself for now.” And, with that, Delia resumed stoking her roommate’s girl parts, slowly bringing her fingers up to that special place. Tara was squirming, pressing her crotch against Delia’s hand.

When Delia’s fingers finally completed their slow journey towards Tara’s clitoris, Tara squealed in delight. “Oh, yes, Dee, that’s the spot.”

“I know that,” Delia replied. “You just enjoy yourself, OK?”

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Tara replied. She was panting now as her excitement rose. The mix of pleasurable sensations and the burning in her ass was bringing her very rapidly to the brink of orgasm.

“Please don’t stop,” Tara begged as Delia swirled her thumb around the small nubbin of very sensitive flesh and inserted her second and middle fingers inside her friend’s very wet vagina. Despite the pain in her behind, Tara couldn’t stop herself from rocking back and forth now, adding to Delia’s stimulation and her own rapidly mounting arousal.

Suddenly, Tara went rigid. “Oh, fuck!” she growled as a very powerful orgasm rolled through her body. Her whole body shook and she felt a small gush of liquid spurting out, running down her legs. Finally, the contractions ebbed and she opened her eyes.

Drained by the sudden release of tension built up over the course of the day and their visit to the “Principal”, Tara slumped back down onto the bed. “How was that?” Delia asked.

“You couldn’t tell?”

“Of course, I could. Now how about you put a little of that lotion on me? It seems to be pretty powerful.”
 

windar

Teller of Tales
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

May’s eyes widened as she watched the point of the 16 gauge needle approach her right nipple. Her hands and feet were tied tightly to the bed so there was nothing she could do to stop him, except to prevail upon his sense of mercy, a sense which, from his previous behavior, he seemed to lack.

“Please, sir,” she begged. “Don’t.”

He reached out to stroke her straight black hair, which was plastered to her hair by the sweat that fear and pain had wrung from her pores. “May, May, May,” he said. “One must suffer for one’s art. Now try to hold still; it will hurt less that way.”

He grasped the needle between his thumb and forefinger and touched the point to the nipple, just indenting the sensitive flesh. May sucked in a breath and pulled uselessly on the ropes that bound her. She turned away, unable to watch. Gina, who lay beside her, also tied to the bed, was staring in abject terror at what the “Artist” was about to do.

***​

“You guys are in luck,” Kelly had told May and Gina earlier that afternoon. “He’s given you the ‘Artist’, who’s an amazingly talented man-several of the paintings you see in the boss’ office and around this place are his. Our employer really loves art, so I’d advise you do everything you can to make the guest happy.”

“Or he’ll have us flogged like Amanda?”

“That’s not up to me, May,” Kelly replied. “Pleasing him and his guests is the job you signed up for and he expects you to do it and do it well. But, there shouldn’t be any problems. You won’t have to do much, really, just be part of his art project.”

“Art project?” Gina asked. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Kelly said. “He’ll tell you what to do and you’ll do it, right?”

May inhaled deeply. This didn’t sound good; in fact, it sent chills up her spine, but what choice did they have? “Sure, Kelly,” she answered. Gina added her assent.

The “Artist” was a rather distinguished looking man around forty five or so, trim, of medium height, with a light brown mustache that matched the hair on his head. He was dressed in a white T shirt and jeans. “Come in,” he said, opening the door in response to their knock.

May glanced around the room as she entered. Oddly, the doctor was there, seated in an armchair with a view of the king sized bed. She noticed May staring at her. “I’m just here to observe and make sure that everyone is safe,” the doctor said. That didn’t really reassure May.

“Have a seat,” he ordered gesturing towards the bed. They sat on the edge. “Do you girls know much about art?” he asked.

“I’m taking an Art History course this semester, sir,” Gina volunteered.

He smiled. “That’s wonderful. I’m sure the future of the art world will be in good hands with your generation. So, I’m sure you’ll agree that the human body, especially the naked female one, is among the most common subjects depicted in art.”

“Yes, sir, of course that’s true,” Gina replied.

“Good, then you won’t mind showing me yours so that I can decide if you’re suitable for my project.”

“You want me to get naked?” she asked.

He slapped her across the face, not that hard, but, coming seemingly out of nowhere, it was shocking. “Don’t play coy with me, you stupid cunt,” he said. “Stand up and get those clothes off, now!” he barked.

Shaking from fear, Gina stood and quickly stripped. He examined her from head to toe, his eyes drinking in the soft, light brown skin. He reached out to play with her breasts, stretching the nipples out as Gina squirmed. Then he knelt, pushed her legs apart, almost causing her to fall, and spent a good minute or more examining her vulva closely, pulling the labia apart to peer inside.

Then, he turned to May. “Now you,” he ordered. She stood and took her clothes off, standing stock still as he examined her. “You’ll do, both of you. Lie down on the bed, side by side.” They hurried to comply, cowed by his show of anger.

He stooped to pick up a gym bag that was lying on the floor under the desk, unzipping it and extracting several pieces of rope, each with a loop with a slip knot at one end. “Doctor, would you assist me, please?” he requested. He fed May’s left foot through the loop in one of the sections of rope and tied the other end securely to one of the uprights on the frame at the foot of the bed. The doctor did the same with Gina’s right foot.

Working quickly the “Artist” and the Doctor soon had both girls secured, their legs spread, their ankles secured to the foot of the bed, their arms over their heads and secured to the uprights of the frame at the head of the bed.

May had thought of resisting, but what would have been the point? The “Artist” would have summoned help from their employer and Robert and Kelly and even a few of the other guests. She and Gina would have been overpowered, very possibly getting hurt in the process. Then, they would still have had to suffer through his “art project”, plus, almost certainly, they would have been flogged for tonight’s entertainment as Amanda had been a couple of nights ago. There didn’t seem to be any upside to that, so she lay still and let them restrain her.

Soon, she would find out what he had in mind.

She didn’t have to wait long. The doctor had a small medical bag with her. She took out a box and handed it to him. May had seen boxes like that in her doctor’s office and knew that it contained needles. In this case they were large ones- 16 gauge, minus the syringe that typically accompanied them.

May stared at it. He wasn’t going to stick that in them, was he? “What are you going to do, sir?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Just a little art project I’ve had in mind for some time. Body art, if you will. You two make a nice canvas.”

“Don’t worry,” the Doctor added. “As you can see, the needles are sterile, straight from the package. No risk of infection. But, just to be sure…” She took out a box of packaged alcohol wipes, opened one and wiped down the toes of May’s left foot.

“Thank you Doctor,” he said. “Would you mind holding her foot, just in case?” The Doctor grasped May’s foot firmly in both hands. Whatever very limited motion the rope allowed was eliminated. May was totally helpless.

He opened the package that held the needle and removed the metal hypodermic from the plastic sleeve. Then, crouching, he carefully placed it under the nail of the second toe.

“Please, sir, no,” May begged. He smiled and pressed the point into the nailbed. A searing shot of pain went through May’s foot and up her leg. “Owwww!” she howled, twisting as much as the ropes and the doctor’s firm grip permitted.

Finally, he stopped pressing it further into the flesh, but the throbbing agony continued. “How does that look, doctor?”

“Very professional,” she replied. “Perhaps you missed your true calling.”

“Thank you. Now would you hold Gina’s foot please?” The doctor grasped the other girl’s foot. May stared in horror as he repeated the insertion of the needle, provoking howls of pain and protest from Gina.

Soon, he had inserted needles under two toenails on each foot of each of the two girls, each insertion provoking paroxysms of twisting and cries of distress. Both girls were bawling, begging him to have mercy and stop.

And stop he did, at least with the foot torture, more likely out of boredom and the desire to move on, than out of mercy.

Now, he had the point of a needle poised against the nipple of May’s right breast. The Doctor was pressing down on May’s stomach to try to limit her movement. “Try to hold still, May,” she advised. He pressed the needle slowly into the soft, yielding flesh. The pain raged through May’s breast like a holy fire. She fought against the weight of the Doctor and the “Artist”, to no avail. The needle sank deeper into the fatty tissue until almost the entire shaft was inside her.

“Oh my god, it hurts so much,” she sobbed.

“I know,” the Doctor said, stroking her belly, her hand trailing down to brush May’s vulva. “It will be over soon.”

They moved over to Gina. The scream as he drove the point home was almost deafening.

Soon, each of the girls had a needle in each breast to complement the ones in their feet. “Now for the pièce de résistance,” he announced. He got up on the bed and knelt between Gina’s legs, carefully parting her labia with the fingers of his left hand so that he could press the point of the needle against her clitoris with his right.

“Please, you can’t, no,” Gina begged. Then, all she made was a wordless shriek as the hard metal pushed into the yielding tissue.

“Not too far,” the Doctor cautioned.

“Just a bit more,” the “Artist” replied. Gina howled as it penetrated further. “Ok, that’s good,” he said. “Now for the Chinese girl and we’re done.”

May pulled against the ropes, desperate to escape, but to no avail. Her breasts and feet were in agony and she didn’t think she could bear anything more. But what choice did she have?

She shut her eyes, unable to watch, but she felt him pulling her labia apart and the felt the sharp, cold metal against the tip of her pleasure center that was now about to become a center of pain. Then she felt a searing agony, an all-consuming fire that quickly spread throughout her torso. “Fuuuuckkk!” she screamed, every muscle in her body fighting against the agony.

Finally, he was done. He got up and went to the bag and pulled out a camera. This required a professional model, not a cellphone. He snapped close-ups of the needles protruding oddly from the toes, breasts and clits. Then he pulled back for full body shots of each suffering girl, their faces streaked with tears, phlegm and sweat.

“Beautiful,” he said. “A true work of art. Just a bit of painting to finish,” he said. He pushed their heads together. May looked at Gina, her sister in suffering for the sake of art.

He pulled down his jeans and underpants. He was very hard. He knelt on the bed beside their heads and began stroking his erect penis, moaning and mumbling, “Yes, so good, oh, yes.” And then he was spurting, great gobs of semen, pulsing through the air. Most of it landed on Gina’s face, but a not insignificant amount graced May’s as well.

“Perfect,” he said, a bit breathless. He pulled up his pants, retrieved the camera and took several photos of their faces covered in his gooey essence. “Some of my best work, I must say.”

Then, he began removing the needles from May, starting with her clit. Just the movement required to remove the metal touched off a new round of throbbing pain. The Doctor produced a red plastic waste container into which he dropped the used hypodermic needle. Then he removed the needles from her breasts and feet. The Doctor applied antibiotic cream to the spots that had been pierced. “You’ll be fine,” she said.

May didn’t feel fine. She felt totally drained and humiliated. She could only imagine where the pictures he had taken would show up.

Once he was done with May, he repeated the process with Gina. Then he set to work untying them. Once her hands were free, May sat up, rubbing her poor sore breasts and pussy. “May I have a towel?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “You should wear that as a badge of honor. Get dressed. The Doctor will take you to your employer so he can see you as the sluts that you are. Then you can shower.”
 

windar

Teller of Tales
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The sounds coming from the great room were loud and raucous-a large group of rich men relaxing from making deals or whatever it was that they did when they were back home-though Tara couldn’t make out what they were saying. Tonight, the Personal Companions were relegated to eating in a small alcove off the kitchen, where they watched the servers-local girls whom they imagined were being pinched and prodded at every opportunity–bring out tray after tray of food to the hungry guests.

There had been little conversation. Tara assumed at least some of the others had been made to serve as toys for other guests and had suffered something like what she and Dee had with the “Principal”, but no one seemed eager to talk about those moments. She certainly wasn’t.

Tara had heard the helicopter landing and taking off on the island a few times that afternoon, after she and Delia were recuperating from their encounter with the “Principal”, so, judging by that and the voices out there, it was a good bet that there were close to twenty or so guests there. And, knowing how things worked on Pirate Cay, they would all want to be “entertained” by the eight Personal Companions, so Tara anticipated a busy night.

When Kelly came in, accompanied by Robert and a couple of the groundskeepers, dressed up in costumes resembling those worn in earlier times by lion tamers at the circus, with short leather whips tucked into their belts, Tara surmised that the entertainment part of the evening was about to begin.

The men were carrying lengths of heavy looking steel chains, which they set on the floor. Kelly clapped her hands. “Listen up, ladies!” she announced. “We’ve got a very special evening ahead of us. Does anyone know what a charity slave auction is?”

Tara’s heart sunk. ‘A slave auction?’ she thought, ‘Where we’ll be sold to those men for them to do God knows what with us? If we’re lucky it’ll be sex, if we’re unlucky it could be something worse, much worse.’

When no one answered, Kelly decided to continue. “Out there, volunteers pretend to be slaves and are sold to the highest bidder, for whom they have to do chores like grocery shopping or lawn mowing. Really lame! Here, we’ll do something a little more serious. The guys can buy you and have your sexual services, whatever they wish, for the evening. How does that sound?”

The women all looked down at the floor. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you guys think about it. The money goes to a good cause, his foundation, which does all kinds of great stuff all over the world. He’s really a generous man. Anyway, this is his show and you guys are in it, right?”

There was a chorus of “Sure” and “whatever”.

“Good, I’m glad you’re all going to participate.” Kelly didn’t say what the consequences would be for anyone who refused-she didn’t have to. “Alright, everyone on your feet!” she ordered. Tara got slowly to her feet as did the others.

“Ok, guys, let’s get those clothes off,” Kelly commanded. Tara stood there glancing over at Delia. The others were looking around, trying to guess if she was serious. “Are you bitches deaf?” she shouted, angered by their non-compliance. “You’re slaves! Captured for auction! Slaves are naked, and either you guys get naked now or these gentlemen will help you.” Tara noticed Robert and his assistants staring at the women with undisguised lust.

Tara saw the other women pulling their shirts over their heads and decided that solitary resistance would be futile. She reached down for the hem of her top.

Once the Companions were naked, Robert and his men put an iron collar around the neck of each woman and secured each one shut with a small padlock. The collar was heavy and somewhat rusted, perhaps to simulate the ones used in the Atlantic Slave Trade that had brought their forefathers from Africa to Providencia.

The men knelt and affixed iron shackles, each pair connected by a heavy iron chain, around the ankles of each slave. “Form a line, all facing the door,” Kelly ordered.

The slaves moved slowly, unused to walking in shackles, eventually forming a line. The men attached more chains to their neck collars so that they were all linked together in a single coffle, with Pam at the front.

Tara was in the middle with Delia behind her and Amanda in front. She noticed that the welts and cuts on Amanda’s back had more or less healed and wondered if any of them would be getting new ones.

“Alright, Robert,” Kelly said, “Let’s move these bitches out!” Robert took the whip out of his belt and slashed it across Pam’s shoulders.

“Fuck!” Pam screamed. Tara saw a red line developing across Pam’s back.

“You heard the lady,” Robert added. “Move your damn asses!” He slashed the whip across the back of the second girl in line, Stephanie, who shrieked in pain and shock and stumbled forward into Pam who jolted ahead. The rest were pulled along. After a few steps, the slaves fell into line, shuffling forward towards the door that led to the waiting men.
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
Once the Companions were naked, Robert and his men put an iron collar around the neck of each woman and secured each one shut with a small padlock. The collar was heavy and somewhat rusted, perhaps to simulate the ones used in the Atlantic Slave Trade that had brought their forefathers from Africa to Providencia.

The men knelt and affixed iron shackles, each pair connected by a heavy iron chain, around the ankles of each slave. “Form a line, all facing the door,” Kelly ordered.
“You heard the lady,” Robert added. “Move your damn asses!” He slashed the whip across the back of the second girl in line, Stephanie, who shrieked in pain and shock and stumbled forward into Pam who jolted ahead. The rest were pulled along. After a few steps, the slaves fell into line, shuffling forward towards the door that led to the waiting men.
Oh goodie! A coffle! Everyone needs to step in time. Step, step, step in time!
 

windar

Teller of Tales
Finally some Heavy Metal!! :applaudit: :devil:
Enter Sandman...
Oh goodie! A coffle!
A coffee? Sounds good. Some cream with that sir? Oops, I misread that.

Everyone needs to step in time. Step, step, step in time!
Somehow I feel that if you were there, you'd manage to disrupt the rhythm..
Shouldn`t be too difficult with the proper encouragement.
A little encouragement always helps..
 

Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
My Coffle song:

Step in time, step in time
Come on my dear, step in time

Step in time

Step in time, step in time
Step in time, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Step in time, we step in time

Kick your knees up
Kick your knees up, step in time
Kick your knees up, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Kick your knees up, step in time

Lash on your ass
Lash on your ass, step in time
Lash on your ass, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Lash your ass, step in time

Stick your titties out
Stick your titties out, step in time
Stick your titties out, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Stick your titties out, step in time

Apologies to M Poppins and D Van Dyke

Moore verses anyone?

Follow the pattern
 

twonines

Magistrate
My Coffle song:

Step in time, step in time
Come on my dear, step in time

Step in time

Step in time, step in time
Step in time, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Step in time, we step in time

Kick your knees up
Kick your knees up, step in time
Kick your knees up, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Kick your knees up, step in time

Lash on your ass
Lash on your ass, step in time
Lash on your ass, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Lash your ass, step in time

Stick your titties out
Stick your titties out, step in time
Stick your titties out, step in time
Never need a reason, never need a rhyme
Stick your titties out, step in time

Apologies to M Poppins and D Van Dyke

Moore verses anyone?
That`s the spirit !!!
 
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