I feel like a well-used prostitute.
Forced into submission yet again,
No matter where I go, or what
I do, pushed, pulled, twisted…
Spread your legs just one more time,
Hear it comes again.
Oh God…will it ever stop?
I don't know how much more I can Take.
Oozing, spewing, draining from every pore,
Forced…into bondage, held against my will
For the shear joys of ejaculation,
Battered and beaten, and still forced
To take more, unimaginable penetration,
Constantly at my door.
Yes, I feel like a well-used prostitute,
Every time I turn on the TV.
Bombarded with advertisements,
Like a bukakke whore.