Encaged

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The head cage with a metal bit holds her head even more still. Clips on her puss are weighed down with chain. Her pussy's swollen, swollen from all her orgasms.She sobs, and the tenor of her wail changes, barely warped, an unsettling sound. The vibrator almost vanishes inwards the swelled lips of her pussy. Another orgasm, and another. Pd glides his forearm inwards of her up to the knuckles. He stuffs all of her fuckholes and she comes again, over-stimulated into some never-never land of sexual exhaustion. Now she's standing, stiffly roped with leather, restricted up by her hair. A cat o' nine tails brings her to tears again. She begs to let her down. She promises him anything. He tells her she must make herself stop crying. Her face leisurely reduces. It becomes a face that is not crying. She interchanges one intolerable condition for another. The dissolution of one self. The emergence of another.