Creep Deepthroat (20 Jan 2017)
Download HD Video (1.8 GB)
leep is fitful and only possible after the tiredness of sustained shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It feels like my figure has been caked 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 strapped carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squelches embark -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- often diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The scent grows fouler by the day; my wc 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 wander 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 prepped 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 manmeat deep-throating will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will moderate and swell her slit for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the ebony head bag and that terrible pole that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my stomach -- I know this drill, so I put my hands behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the fetters together.) He slips 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 crevice by my neck. The concrete scraps my flesh as I fight to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forth by that pole. It is a stifling panic -- I cannot watch where I am stepping. He seems to delight in letting me excursion or briskly walking 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 bondage mask off my head -- the aim of this pose is suddenly 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 great ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
leep is fitful and only possible after the tiredness of sustained shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It feels like my figure has been caked 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 strapped carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squelches embark -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- often diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The scent grows fouler by the day; my wc 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 wander 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 prepped 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 manmeat deep-throating will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will moderate and swell her slit for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the ebony head bag and that terrible pole that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my stomach -- I know this drill, so I put my hands behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the fetters together.) He slips 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 crevice by my neck. The concrete scraps my flesh as I fight to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forth by that pole. It is a stifling panic -- I cannot watch where I am stepping. He seems to delight in letting me excursion or briskly walking 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 bondage mask off my head -- the aim of this pose is suddenly 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 great ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
Added: 2017-01-31 • Views: 5 • Duration: 50:55
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