A 2 Doll Predicament

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Lavender's neck is bound to a pillar in a basement. Her wrists are cuffed. She hears sounds of grief and the spank of wood on flesh. She waits, nervous, craning her neck. Before lengthy PD showcases up, wedging her mouth and hooding her head. He hauls skimpy lavender into the other room. 2 dolls sit on the floor side by side, both with wrists and ankles cuffed, both masked and chained to the wall. Left to their own devices, their frigs find one another. Before long, they've liquidated rubber hoods and gags, but iron is another matter altogether. He pulverized me half a dozen times, Brina tells Lavendar, funked and breathless. Before they can escape, PD showcases up, without mercy cropping them. He throws a set of keys at the 2 girls. You've got 15 minutes, he says. He orders them to unclothe and to make out. He tells them what to do with each other until Lavendar's throating PD's cock as she sits on Brina's face. PD fills all that writhing doll flesh into a shallow cell set into the floor. When he locks down the top, they scream. They plead and cry. You're mine now, he says.