 This parching thirst controls my life,
It taunts with boys to magnify,
In leather jackets and rubber suits,
A studly mass, this Boy in boots,
Let's have one night where all is gone,
Where two play hard and merge as one,
Where kink is pushed, and snuff explored,
Where one is bound and pleads for more,
The players switch in all out war,
Aggression unleashed, dark sides explored,
In chains and rope, the leather creaks,
The leather hood, this Boy can't speak,
The mind fuck strong, it steals all reason,
To take this Boy, and tie him, seal him,
In layers, encased, and mummified,
This Boy gives up control to live or die,
Now a party prop for studs to abuse,
This duct taped biker hasn't a clue,
A bag on his head, the air slowly leaves him,
This Boy writhes in bliss as asphyxia moves in,
Pulsing and raging in layers of gear,
The Boy shoots his load, yet no one is near,
The bag is drawn tight, no air has arrived,
Until Youth dressed in leather gives some supply,
This Boy is now prisoner, his identity
gone,
He lives as the victim to Young Leather God,
He's chained in a basement with four other boys,
Always in plastic, and leather, and toys,
Drugged in submission, they forgot who
they are,
While worldly outsiders search near and far,
These Boys are now Prisoners of Young Leather God,
Who keeps them as things to help him get off,
It's never the flesh that sees light of
day,
They're trapped in the gear that's been custom made,
Young Leather approaches with a shaking new lad,
He binds him and gags him, his life is now damned,
To show off his prowess, Young Leather brings forth,
This excited young kid, who's then knocked to the floor,
The only excitement these slaves have seen now in days,
They stir and they twist in their leather restraints,
The kid lay before them and sees the slaves'
faces,
This whole scene is wrong and his mind starts to racing,
Too late for this boy, for it's not that fantastic,
For Young Leather God to encase him in plastic,
He whimpers and struggles, but it's all just in vain,
But for what now is coming, they say there's no pain,
The slaves have gone mad from drugs and submission,
They start rubbing themselves and get in position,
The chains on their wrists start to rattle and rear,
As they work themselves up under thick bondage gear,
The young kid now begging, the turn on is strong,
The more that he's frightened, the more it pleases the God,
Young Leather looks over and smiles with control,
As he now shifts his focus to what lays on the floor,
A clear plastic bag slowly drawn over lad,
Gives a moment of thought that the scene's not so bad,
But then there's the sound of duct tape
unrolling,
As Young Leather straps tight, this bag of death clothing,
Around the strained neck, the kid's fate now is sealed,
As Young Leather steps back and enjoys this appeal,
Wrong in all ways, the slaves start to
pawing,
Through thick padded mits, they start to massaging,
Their hard-ons exploding 'neath layers of leather,
This dumb dying fuck, is giving them pleasure,
The boy squirms and struggles, the plastic
to rid,
As Young Leather starts cumming all over the kid,
The sounds are euphoric, the leather and chains,
The plastic and mufllings from Boys with no names,
For the kid, no escape, the air is now
gone,
The boy has no life, Young Leather is God,
The slaves know their place and know nothing more,
It's Young Leather's domain and this has happened before,
With wicked reproach, Young Leather leaves,
Young kid on the floor, and the slaves in their scene,
Sweating, imprisoned, and encased head to toe,
The slaves sit and bake in their thick leather clothes,
As the kid lay there wrapped in his tightly
cacoon,
The slaves pause a moment and look 'round the room,
A moment, just that, of a rational glow,
As it hits them to think, who's next to go.
 |
