Creep Deep-throat
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leep is fitful and only possible after the fatigue of sustained shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It feels like my body has been covered in blows - the rocks are damaging me. Its getting colder. The sun is lower; It rafters thru a window and illuminates the details of what hovers above me. I am one of those web tied carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squishes commence -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- permanently diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The aroma gets taller fouler by the day; my restroom is my bed. In the embarking he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, frolicking with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was wearing a gas mask. The everyday chores of the lands are much more interesting as I permit my mind to stroll to that creature entombed in my barn. It is less distracting of late because of the stink, and I now must face the task of cleaning it. I have ready a platform based on the designs I have seen at the county fair; A grooming table that holds her wrist and ankles so she is on all fours. For days I have been content with just knowing that it was stored there. To compensate and motivate the chore of cleaning it, I want to take it to another level. I am going to bifurcate her -- two for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The cock throating will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will soften and swell her cootchie for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the dark-hued head bag and that horrible pillar that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my belly -- I know this drill, so I put my mitts behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the shackles together.) He slides the bag on my head, yanks the chain taut and locks it. I hear the silenced sound of the grate scratching on the concrete. He yanks me out of the hole by my neck. The concrete scraps my skin as I struggle to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forth by that pole. It is a stifling panic -- I cannot see where I am stepping. He seems to delectation in letting me tour or briskly ambling me into obstacles. I’m now on all 4s locked at the wrist and ankles. It must be a table or platform of some kind. He pulls the rubber hood off my head -- the objective of this posture is abruptly clear. A bucket of soapy water and a hose pipe are lounging on the floor. Im sure he will make what is to come as horrible as possible. I can’t help but breathe with superb ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
leep is fitful and only possible after the fatigue of sustained shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It feels like my body has been covered in blows - the rocks are damaging me. Its getting colder. The sun is lower; It rafters thru a window and illuminates the details of what hovers above me. I am one of those web tied carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squishes commence -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- permanently diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The aroma gets taller fouler by the day; my restroom is my bed. In the embarking he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, frolicking with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was wearing a gas mask. The everyday chores of the lands are much more interesting as I permit my mind to stroll to that creature entombed in my barn. It is less distracting of late because of the stink, and I now must face the task of cleaning it. I have ready a platform based on the designs I have seen at the county fair; A grooming table that holds her wrist and ankles so she is on all fours. For days I have been content with just knowing that it was stored there. To compensate and motivate the chore of cleaning it, I want to take it to another level. I am going to bifurcate her -- two for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The cock throating will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will soften and swell her cootchie for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the dark-hued head bag and that horrible pillar that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my belly -- I know this drill, so I put my mitts behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the shackles together.) He slides the bag on my head, yanks the chain taut and locks it. I hear the silenced sound of the grate scratching on the concrete. He yanks me out of the hole by my neck. The concrete scraps my skin as I struggle to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forth by that pole. It is a stifling panic -- I cannot see where I am stepping. He seems to delectation in letting me tour or briskly ambling me into obstacles. I’m now on all 4s locked at the wrist and ankles. It must be a table or platform of some kind. He pulls the rubber hood off my head -- the objective of this posture is abruptly clear. A bucket of soapy water and a hose pipe are lounging on the floor. Im sure he will make what is to come as horrible as possible. I can’t help but breathe with superb ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
Added: 2017-10-10 • Views: 16 • Duration: 50:55
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