He spied her, hot and young and rash, And trussed her, goose-like, hands and feet. He taped her mouth and ripped her dress To probe and carve her like a meat. Driven like half-maddened beasts, The bulk of men act out of haste. But slowly binding her, he thinks That Girl is an acquired taste.
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A friend gave me his phone number weeks ago. “Call him. Just call him,” she said. I’d stopped dating. It wasn’t the guys. Well, maybe a little. “Look, I’m over ‘relationships’ for the moment. I just want to be by myself for awhile. That’s all.” My friend shrugged. “Call him,” she said again. I was the youngest of three girls. Growing up, I’d watched my sisters and their boy friends. Clumsy kisses in the barn. Hands groping, pushed away, more groping. I had dreams, murky pictures in my head. And I’d fumbled with myself some nights, unsatisfied, my fumbling increasing my longing. Like cocks were doing now.
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Gagged and spread-eagled by a harsh metal spreader bar, her juicy pussy looks delious and inviting as PD straddles her face. Cyd wants to play too so a coin is tossed to decide this helpless victims fate. Who gets her ass or who gets her mouth. One dildo goes in her ass and one in her cunt. The hard black cocks fuck her mercilessly. Rhythmically in her pussy and deep down into her throat. Her holes are fucked hard and deep. It almost sounds as if she purrs like a little kitten, while the two pervs get off on her discomfort. Not one, but two mr pogo’s invade her private sex holes by surprize, forcefully entering her tight flesh. Her ass gets fucked slowly while het mouth is occupied by the other black invader. A hard deep push makes her scream. She was not ready for this.
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Endurance is my master’s pleasure for a carnival of nasty delights. My submission almost defies life. To submit is to ignore that voice inside your head that is urging you to run out of the room. And it takes all my strength not to run.
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I sometimes like to flaunt my girl-ness. My pleated skirt bounces as I walk, swinging and swaying and hinting just enough at what lays beneath. I flaunt my strength, flexing my girl-muscles, the control I imagine I have on the people that I walk past. I approach the building that is now so familiar to me, waiting for the elevator that always takes forever to arrive– I never saw what hit me.
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Her soft flesh is clay to be molded by his skillful hands. Her cries are music to his ears. Her torture is his desire. And his pleasure is her pain. So he covers her pretty, young face in rubber hoods and wraps ropes tight around her limbs. He lifts her to his lap, pulls her close to tug at her stiff nipples and fondle her tenderized cunt. Then he makes her scream, whip lashing hard against glossy, firm skin, breasts bouncing, faceless head shaking hysterically.
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My dreams curdle the night, the heavy, wet November night. Outside, the rustle of corn in the fields, silage of dreams, of a man’s want. And inside, my boner poking up against the sheet. Lightening far off, breaking out the night. The whispering of the house, conversations of ghosts. And the howls. That pack of dogs is come sniffing around the barn again. They always know when I got me another girl. I got me two of them a couple days ago, their pussies ripe and glittery-wet like jewels, nipples as tight and hard as nuggets, cold enough to ripple the skin. November’s got a chill around these parts. When a girl shivers it bones me up fat and hard, strong enough to squirt…
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The choice was hers. He asked flat out: would she accept his ties, his tortures? And she did, signed herself away. Just one weekend – how bad could it be? He places a collar on her neck, orders her to undress. Hands cuffed, she struggles to wriggle out of her jeans. Kneeling, she presents her smooth bare ass. He removes her shirt and binds her arms. Willingly, she submits as the ropes pinch harshly into her skin.
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Like a diapered newborn in her highchair, 412 fidgets restlessly, anxious to come out and play. Metal restraining her absolutely around the neck and wrists, she fixes her makeup chained to the station. Metal boots tightened at the bottom crush her finely arched feet, causing her large eyes to glaze with tears. With a rubber brake laced over neck and mouth, she is forced to gulp water that drips into her mouth through a long tube.
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For me, the anticipation had been building. I had, for so long, been eagerly awaiting this moment when PD would once again take my wrists and so nimbly apply them with rope. As he continued the binding by tying my elbows, and subsequently securing my arms to the column in an intense, backward stretch I could feel the excitement begin to overwhelm me. The sensation of moisture that had been accumulating inside me since we began had now escalated to where I could feel it begin to run down my leg….
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Dairy available here.
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