InfernalRestraints - Molly and the Anvil

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Okay, so I been observing her at night, observing the gold light of her window streaming into darkness, and the shadows that crawl along the roofline. But she was the one that come on to me, all prettified in that brief tiny sundress flashing her melons chubby and puffy and hard, the yank of that fleshy bum leaving a trail of cooch so thick, a fellow gets lost in a fog, can't keep his mind where it belongs. She was the demon clothed like a whore. She might of looked like the doll next door, but she weren't nothing but a whore. And last night, she stood spank in front of the window, hoisting her glide over her head. Her fingers, those fine, mild stems, unhooked her bra. The straps glided down slow, like a wish you been swallowing and just like that, you're falling down , you're sightless with how you can see her in your head, her cunt, her warm pussy, nipples, silhouette of the moon. She plays with her nipples, her milk cans white, half-shadowed. Her bod writhes. That girl's fire in the mouth, a dual glug of white lightening pulverizing like a fap hammer on the back of your skull. Temptation. You got to it, got to put it away somewhere's so it don't get you. See, I'm a God‹fearing man. So it had to be done. And like I said, she come on to me. She stood naked, pressing her melons and cooch right against that window, and I witnessed her like a steam, like a mist flowing out into the night. And her eyes stationary on mine, those dark demon eyes. I got her in the camper easy. Whore's are like that, thinking they got a fellow all weak-kneed and insatiable for what they got inbetween the legs, that smooth cavity, that pearly cootchie that fellates a fellow in and don't let go. She thought she was working me. I shivered cause I witnessed elderly fellow Satan a-staring out at me from those eyes so youthfull and chocolate-colored and chubby and wet. My arm shook when I lit her cigarette. But she was cold, like a sheet of ice, frozen, cold- like a snake. "What's that for?" she asked, observing the boner palette, the rope, the plastic wrap. "Delivery," I said, slowing the camper down. I was driving the back edge of the coal yards. Nobody around. She didn't blink. Not once. Reached over and unbuckled me sans so much of a satisfy and thank you. She took hold of my cock. Satan had a-hold of me, getting me stiff and ample and smashing up into my eyes. I pushed her down. I strapped her tight, her elbows near touching in back. She made a tiny chirpy sound or two, but I rammed her mouth. I glazed those eyes fast. Satan will catch you in a spell quicker than you can blink. And I got to capturing her melons and mild ass. She wiggled, squirmed. She was like peaches and plums, like you could drown in your teeth and testicle tonic would run in rivulets down your chin. Her flesh was silk, like nothing I ever touched before, like something so good you can't help but fill your hands, wring and squeeze, fondle. I inserted her into a ball and packaged her cock-squeezing to the palette. I drove over to the garage. By that time she was making a shitty fuss. Yummy tiny whore, I said, whispery and mild while I pricked her puffies with the tip of my knife. demon girl. Cunt. My knife was searching for the devil, drawn like a magnet to her dark, humid cunt, aroma of girl, smoky-sweet, salty, blunt. I got her on her soles and wired her, stretched over the anvil. When the devil's in a girl, you got to use off the hook tools, metal, wire, red-hot shavings from the grinder. You got to tape her hatch and eyes, tape her pussy shut. You get her dancing, punctured on the treat of a shovel broom. She cried. Yes she did. Because I was doing my finest to help that scanty girl, using cable and iron to drive the demon out. I flogged her with wire. I beat her milk cans red, her pussy pinkish and striped, her chubby soft, bum marked with red-hot bright lines. I flogged her stiff enough to beat the demon back. Tonight her window is dark. I see shadows crawl along the roofline. I devise her strapped and locked in a glass case in the lower room. That's where she belongs. I take another hit of white lightening. It's a fire in my hatch and eyes. But she's a mist, a bleached fog that passes thru my mind. Even now, I hear her cries. Seduction bashes my temples like a gong, the bleary craving of my mind. And the empty sky, deep low groan of the devil, rumbling night, dark blackened sky.