Fettered and Tamed

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Dixon Mason sums up the allure of implement restrain bondage perfectly. With cord there is wiggle room, there is a opportunity to wriggle and escape, but with iron there is no hope. It is cold and unyielding, the brilliant counter point to the sensuality of rope. She begins off tied with tape. It isn't the way she thought this was going to start, but fastly it begins to turn into something else. A iron neck corset around her neck fastens her by a chain to the ceiling. It keeps her in place in a way she did not expect. She can't unwind her gams or even slouch sans the iron pulling against her throat. Worse, she can't budge far from where she is. PD knows it and takes utter advantage, cropping her backside mercilessly. When the iron is around her wrists and ankles she moves down to the floor. The bar that keeps her gams apart unveils her honeypot to a brutish caning. Her orbs are tied off to make them more soft for their own abuse. She spoke about it earlier, the effect restrain bondage and discipline has on her body. The bruises haven't even embarked to shape but her honeypot is cascading wet. She isn't fairly able to spunk from the pain but the Vibrator on her pleasure button will get her the rest of the way there. Dixon's a bit exhausted after her orgasms, but PD's friend Fap Strike is here and he hasn't had his turn with her yet. Now the iron pubs and shackles have her on her back with her gams opened up up into the air. The iron cell on her head blocks out all of the light but amplifies every sound around her. The sounds of foot steps, the flog coming down on her legs, even her own bellows are made louder as they echo in the lil' prison. She is going to spunk again, tighter this time, and as the swings of climaxes take her figure she will get the exact feeling she wants, bucking against the relentless bondage.