Infernalrestraints - Slink Deep-throat
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Sleep is fitful and only possible after the tiredness of sustained shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It senses like my bod has been caked in blows - the rocks are damaging 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 commence -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- oftentimes diving at me and bombing me with their droppings.The smell gets taller fouler by the day; my toilet is my bed. In the beginning he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, toying with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was wearing a gas mask.The everyday errands of the lands are much more interesting as I allow my mind to roam 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 well-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 -- 2 for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The stiffy gargling will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will moderate and erect her snatch for my cock.Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the black head bag and that terrible pole that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my tummy -- I know this drill, so I put my arms behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the fetters together.) He glides the bag on my head, spasms the chain taut and locks it.I hear the silenced sound of the grate scraping on the concrete. He spasms me out of the fuck-hole 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 funk -- I cannot witness where I am stepping. He seems to delight in letting me excursion or briskly ambling me into obstacles.I’m now on all fours locked at the wrist and ankles. It must be a table or platform of some kind. He pulls the hood off my head -- the objective of this posture is all of a sudden clear. A bucket of soapy water and a hosepipe are lounging on the floor. Im sure he will make what is to come as crappy as possible. I can’t help but sigh with superb ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
Sleep is fitful and only possible after the tiredness of sustained shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It senses like my bod has been caked in blows - the rocks are damaging 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 commence -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- oftentimes diving at me and bombing me with their droppings.The smell gets taller fouler by the day; my toilet is my bed. In the beginning he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, toying with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was wearing a gas mask.The everyday errands of the lands are much more interesting as I allow my mind to roam 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 well-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 -- 2 for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The stiffy gargling will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will moderate and erect her snatch for my cock.Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the black head bag and that terrible pole that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my tummy -- I know this drill, so I put my arms behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the fetters together.) He glides the bag on my head, spasms the chain taut and locks it.I hear the silenced sound of the grate scraping on the concrete. He spasms me out of the fuck-hole 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 funk -- I cannot witness where I am stepping. He seems to delight in letting me excursion or briskly ambling me into obstacles.I’m now on all fours locked at the wrist and ankles. It must be a table or platform of some kind. He pulls the hood off my head -- the objective of this posture is all of a sudden clear. A bucket of soapy water and a hosepipe are lounging on the floor. Im sure he will make what is to come as crappy as possible. I can’t help but sigh with superb ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
Added: 2025-03-24 • Views: 0 • Duration: 50:55
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