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A naked male figure, strapped to a table, his
legs drawn upright and held in place by one woman gripping
mercilessly on his knees, holding him steady and immobile. His cock
betrays him; his penis is as upright as his legs are spread wide. An
ass, spread by another Woman's hands, hands he knows well and loves
and fears, seems to stand open and ready by itself. She peers inside
the blackness now exposed to the light. Her light.
He has no face. Instead, it's covered by the warm wetness of one of
his captors, the woman holding him steady and unmoving, covering his
mouth with herself so his screams or whimpers or moans are inaudible
except for those brief periods when she rises and allows him to gulp
air into his lungs. His sight, also prisoner to her wet skin, is
useless. His hands lie limply at his sides awaiting the command to
hold his cheeks farther apart so the seated Woman who owns him, can
delve in deeper and see Her target more closely.
All he can do is feel. He has no needs, nowhere to go, no other
thoughts in his brain except to suffer for Her pleasure, whatever it
is.
Without warning, cold steel touches the skin between his scrotum and
his ass and the teeth of the metal wheel dig gently into him. If he
moans, no one knows. If he gasps, no one hears. The vibrations of
his sounds serve merely to titillate the woman's labia that smother
his face.
At the other end, a woman digs deeper with her wheel and traces the
line of skin deeply and with more force. Each lap of the wheel
threatens to go farther and farther down and deeper and deeper
inside that small strip of skin toward his spread ass and touch the
damp darkness inside. His chest heaves, a groan apparently rises
inside him, but it is silenced until she says,
"Spread yourself for Me."
Like a puppet on a string, he obeys. Reaching diligently toward his
cheeks, he grips and pulls them apart so She can invade him better,
deeper, longer, with more ease. His only goal is to provide Her
access; his only thought is to obey. She owns him, all parts of him,
outside as well as the inside She is now claiming. There is no other
world for him; he lives right here and now within Her dominion.
Her sexslave. Her fucktoy. The words suddenly take on real meaning
and he winces with the sudden realization that he is nothing except
Her property.
She moves in with the unforgiving metal wheel and traces him, inch
by inch, to the darkest spot of his being. Almost as dark as the
fantasies in his soul, She looks inside him and . . .
smiles.
The wheel moves down, down, relentlessly down and he screams
soundlessly into another wetness that drips across his face.
Unhearing, She ignores his agony and . . .
smiles.
With keen aim and Her target now in plain sight, She rolls the wheel
into him, harder and harder, until his screaming produces enough
vibration to make the wetness above him fall onto his face with
incredible volume and force. Dutifully he drinks it up while She
sits between his spread and quivering legs and drives Her tool
toward Her final goal. She knows he is suffering for Her and She . .
.
smiles.
With one hand filled with lubrication, She enters him casually,
first with one finger and then another and another until his ass is
finally bursting from the sheer dimension of the intrusion. Rolling
three fingers in a silent circle, She knows he is panting and hoarse
with incessant groaning, and his chest aches from heaving, and his
legs agonize from restraint, but She merely . . .
smiles.
With the wheel tearing into his tender virgin flesh, She presses
inward toward Her goal. Reaching up and around, then down and back,
She inspects every inch inside him until She locates the goal of Her
search. His suddenly-sucked in chest betrays him; his dripping penis
cascades rivers down the rigid shaft toward Her two fingers that
still remain outside him. She rubs the juice he creates just for Her
between Her thumb and pinkie and She . . .
smiles.
. . . as he screams
. . . as he groans
. . . as he quivers
. . . as he trembles
. . . as he shudders
. . . as he shakes
in shock and in pain. in terror and in resignation. in horror and in
realization of what he truly is to Her and within him is unleashed .
. .
spasm after spasm, he ejaculates directly upward, reaching
unimaginable heights as She presses firmly into his prostate and
forces him to finish on Her command, on Her timing, on Her desire,
on Her demand, on Her pleasure. Watching the rivers pour over his
searing shaft, She just . . .
smiles.
Sleep well, my sexslave, my fucktoy. you are owned. you are Mine. I
know it and I own this time, you, and your dreams.
When I want you again, my fucktoy, I'll let you know |
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