InfernalRestraints - Molly and the Anvil

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Okay, so I been eyeing her at night, eyeing 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 lil sundress demonstrating her bumpers plump and pointy and hard, the twitch of that saucy booty leaving a trail of labia so thick, a dude gets lost in a fog, can't keep his mind where it belongs. She was the Demon clad like a whore. She might of looked like the dame next door, but she weren't nothing but a whore. And last night, she stood spank in front of the window, lifting her slide over her head. Her fingers, those fine, sensitized stems, unhooked her bra. The cords slipped down slow, like a desire you been swallowing and just like that, you're falling down drunk, you're whiskey blind with how you can observe her in your head, her cunt, her steaming pussy, nipples, silhouette of the moon. She plays with her nipples, her melons white, half-shadowed. Her assets writhes. That girl's fire in the mouth, a dual glug of milky lightening banging like a jack hammer on the back of your skull. Temptation. You got to kill 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 bumpers and labia right against that window, and I spotted 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 dude all weak-kneed and horny for what they got inbetween the legs, that sleek cavity, that creamy cooter that inhales a dude in and don't let go. She thought she was working me. I shivered cause I spotted old dude Demon a-staring out at me from those eyes so youthful and brown and plump and wet. My hand shook when I lit her cigarette. But she was cold, like a sheet of ice, frozen, cold-blooded like a snake. "What's that for?" she asked, eyeing the spear palette, the rope, the plastic wrap. "Delivery," I said, slowing the camper down. I was driving the back verge of the coal yards. Nobody around. She didn't blink. Not once. Reached over and unzipped me without so much of a sate and thank you. She seized my cock. Demon had a-hold of me, getting me rigid and thick and pummeling up into my eyes. I shoveled her down. I bound her tight, her elbows near fumbling in back. She made a lil chirpy sound or two, but I plunged her mouth. I decorated those eyes fast. Demon will catch you in a spell quicker than you can blink. And I got to seizing her bumpers and sensitized ass. She wiggled, squirmed. She was like peaches and plums, like you could drown in your teeth and fluid would drip down your chin. Her flesh was silk, like nothing I ever groped before, like something so fine you can't help but cram your hands, wring and squeeze, fondle. I slammed her into a ball and packaged her taut to the palette. I drove over to the garage. By that time she was making a gruesome fuss. saucy lil whore, I said, whispery and sensitized while I pricked her nipples 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, scent 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 sensational tools, metal, wire, super-steamy shavings from the grinder. You got to gauze her jaws and eyes, gauze her cunny shut. You get her dancing, punctured on the treat of a shove broom. She cried. Yes she did. Because I was doing my finest to help that poor girl, using wire and metal to drive the Demon out. I caned her with wire. I hammer her melons red, her cunny pinkish and striped, her plump soft, booty marked with super-steamy bright lines. I caned her rigid enough to hammer the Demon back. Tonight her window is dark. I watch shadows crawl along the roofline. I devise her bound and locked in a glass case in the lower room. That's where she belongs. I take another hit of milky lightening. It's a fire in my gullet and eyes. But she's a mist, a bleached fog that passes thru my mind. Even now, I hear her cries. Temptation strikes my temples like a gong, the bleary longing of my mind. And the empty sky, deep low wail of the devil, rumbling night, dark blackened sky.