The metal band around her waist is more than tight. It constricts her liver, her stomach, her spleen. Metal shackles pinch and bruise the skin at her wrists and ankles. And the head cage – forty pounds of steel that does not quite fit. It presses. It rubs. The of metal. The little pains accrue.
He positions her so that she cannot quite stand. She cannot sit. So she shuffles this way and that. Her hands make soothing motions as though searching for comfort. But there is no comfort. Not here.
Sasha Sparks is known for extreme bondage. She won an award! She has big tits. Huge tits. Tits that men love to bruise. But this man, PD, he ignores her huge tits. He leaves her to stew. Just a little softening up. Just a little ripening. Metal teaches the more subtle meanings of the word “cruel.”
He rolls her out for display. Her head is locked in stocks, a metal gag, her wrists chained to the sides, and her feet stand on metal pipe. It’s excruciating. He knows this. It pleases him, her suffering, her continuous moan. He uses a singletail, a cane, and a heavy flogger. Big tits just make a big target. And she’s caught, held firm, and he revels. He makes her oink. He calls her his little piggy. But she begs him anyway. Begs him because of the pain in her feet. He gives her wicked little blocks of wood that wobble and turn. He ties her tremendous tits and pulls them up. And a fucking machine grinds away at her cunt. Then he leaves her like that. Fucked. In darkness.
When she comes, her moans are the same moans as for pain. But the machine doesn’t care. The metal doesn’t care. She’s nowhere now. She’s gone one step too far – over the edge of the earth and falling.
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