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Added: August 1, 2018 |
Category: Bondage
As the moments go by it becomes worse and worse. The way your legs are straightened together with your wrists. Metal squeezes your tits. The collar. The gag. It all hurts. Not a lot. But sufficient to make everything difficult, even your breathing. You consider it out on your mind. You are able to take one more minute. Maybe two. And when you can not stand another moment, PD shows up. He places a heap of canes and paddles at your own feet. And you also know anything is far much better than being locked within this metal that rubs and squeezes and presses. Anything. You may clearly see that things are going to get a lot worse. But you don’t care. Even pain is far better than that. You Require PD. And that’s exactly the way he needs it.He oils your feet, taking the time to rub between every toe. His touch is outstanding. Marvelous. He says, allow me to know when you need me to strike you. He makes you part of your own misery. And he pokes a skewer under your toenails. He lights a torch and heats the bottoms of your feet. Your helplessness is deep. It’s only the start. Extended discomfort marked with glowing points of pain and bliss quintessential distress. As time goes, what he does begin to seem dreamlike. He’s bent your hands backwards, palm up splaying out your fingers. The area gets fantastical as he torments your fingers, caning the meaty part of your hands. However, you don’t want him to leave. You do not want to be alone.You’re position, a 4X4 yoke straightened into your neck and wrists. A metallic pipe gag pushes your tongue backwards and down, opening mouth. Your breath dries up your upper palette. You can’t consume or wet mouth. Metal chastity belt. Ankle spreader. Everything is quite heavy. The fat messes with your head. It’s bad. Really bad. You’re nothing now. Nothing but this burden, this annoyance. You are not alone. And perhaps that’s just what you wanted all along. |