Creep Deep-throat
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leep is fitful and only possible after the weariness of stable shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It perceives like my assets has been coated in blows - the rocks are bruising 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 corded carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squelches begin -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- oftentimes diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The smell gets bigger fouler by the day; my restroom is my bed. In the commencing 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 grounds are much more interesting as I permit my mind to ramble 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 prepared 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 -- 2 for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The cock sucking will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will alleviate and erect her puss for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the black head bag and that shitty pillar that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my stomach -- 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, twitches the chain taut and locks it. I hear the silenced sound of the grate scraping on the concrete. He twitches me out of the fuckhole by my neck. The concrete scraps my flesh as I fight to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forward by that pole. It is a stifling fright -- I cannot witness where I am stepping. He seems to delectation in letting me excursion 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 hood off my head -- the objective of this posture is all of a sudden 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 crappy as possible. I can’t help but breathe with great ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
leep is fitful and only possible after the weariness of stable shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It perceives like my assets has been coated in blows - the rocks are bruising 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 corded carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squelches begin -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- oftentimes diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The smell gets bigger fouler by the day; my restroom is my bed. In the commencing 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 grounds are much more interesting as I permit my mind to ramble 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 prepared 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 -- 2 for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The cock sucking will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will alleviate and erect her puss for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the black head bag and that shitty pillar that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my stomach -- 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, twitches the chain taut and locks it. I hear the silenced sound of the grate scraping on the concrete. He twitches me out of the fuckhole by my neck. The concrete scraps my flesh as I fight to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forward by that pole. It is a stifling fright -- I cannot witness where I am stepping. He seems to delectation in letting me excursion 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 hood off my head -- the objective of this posture is all of a sudden 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 crappy as possible. I can’t help but breathe with great ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
Added: 2017-01-23 • Views: 18 • Duration: 50:55
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