Mystic Molly - pt.2
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Clothed in a conservative knee length skirt, matching top, and sensible high high-heeled shoes I awaited my fate, ball-gagged and cuffed, while conversing myself into the appropriate mood needed. Only occasionally was I aware of the movability around me instead I was trying to manage the slobber that was forming around the firmly cinched cord drenching the mattress and smearing my newly made up face. I was prepping mentally for the corporal intensity that was going to be demanded of me. The count down. I was shocked by uncertainty and nervousness. When the clock struck Ten I dissolved at PD's initial touch. The highly first sensation of his forearm was mushy and delicate then in the matter of seconds I was Choking and choking! Struggling with the cut off air I managed to view directly into the lens of the camera reminding myself that people the world over were about to observe intense intensity exchange and I was the object of torture! Cold trib blades cutting off my cautiously chosen apparel left me experiencing defenseless and longing to be . The one gam semi suspension opened my cooch for the world to see. I could not bashful away by trying to shut my gams since the restrain bondage was so strict. A weakness of mine is dealing with any sort of anguish inflicted on or even near my slit but I suffered the whipping, surprising myself, but not sans whimpering, of course. I have a fantasy of being objectified and when PD said "Let's get some detail on this cunt" I knew I was right where I yearned to be. The bishop implement was terrifying. punctured by an electrical monster it was all up to my balance or else a horrific shock would jolt thru my body. It was much too intense for me... I became so parched from the noisy screams I uncontrollably pulled out I completed up pleading PD for water which he just spit it in my face. How abasing I could not take the suspense when he determined to manage the shocks. He was taking me over the edge. The sole torment tool I was locked into was amazing. PD strapped each toe individually... which is yet another one of my kinks. I have never accomplished flames on my soles before and that frightened me quite a bit. If I have never tried something I am hesitant to do it- only because I do not know what to expect. The cropping on my underarms was another sensation I have never felt. It was highly painful but I still pridefully wear the marks. I had absolutely no control. I could not stir my soles at all. I was entirely vulnerable. I was on an emotional rollercoaster. One moment moaning as noisy as my vocal straps allowed. The next crying softly to myself. Then grinning from my heart. I left that night with actual crop marks on my soles which I never thought was possible considering how harsh the flesh is. strapped to the chair. Choking for my right to breathe. experiencing desperation as he managed the tube of mouth-watering oxygen. Having a line crossed by the tape being pushed up my nostrils. Every one of these elements helped in my reaching orgasm... 3 in a row no less. I left that night flying high as a kite. Unable to sleep, throwing and turning while dreaming of bastinado, Mr. Pogo, strapped toes, and breath control. Raw desire after Raw dream. PD gave me an extraordinaire gift. One that I will never forget.
Clothed in a conservative knee length skirt, matching top, and sensible high high-heeled shoes I awaited my fate, ball-gagged and cuffed, while conversing myself into the appropriate mood needed. Only occasionally was I aware of the movability around me instead I was trying to manage the slobber that was forming around the firmly cinched cord drenching the mattress and smearing my newly made up face. I was prepping mentally for the corporal intensity that was going to be demanded of me. The count down. I was shocked by uncertainty and nervousness. When the clock struck Ten I dissolved at PD's initial touch. The highly first sensation of his forearm was mushy and delicate then in the matter of seconds I was Choking and choking! Struggling with the cut off air I managed to view directly into the lens of the camera reminding myself that people the world over were about to observe intense intensity exchange and I was the object of torture! Cold trib blades cutting off my cautiously chosen apparel left me experiencing defenseless and longing to be . The one gam semi suspension opened my cooch for the world to see. I could not bashful away by trying to shut my gams since the restrain bondage was so strict. A weakness of mine is dealing with any sort of anguish inflicted on or even near my slit but I suffered the whipping, surprising myself, but not sans whimpering, of course. I have a fantasy of being objectified and when PD said "Let's get some detail on this cunt" I knew I was right where I yearned to be. The bishop implement was terrifying. punctured by an electrical monster it was all up to my balance or else a horrific shock would jolt thru my body. It was much too intense for me... I became so parched from the noisy screams I uncontrollably pulled out I completed up pleading PD for water which he just spit it in my face. How abasing I could not take the suspense when he determined to manage the shocks. He was taking me over the edge. The sole torment tool I was locked into was amazing. PD strapped each toe individually... which is yet another one of my kinks. I have never accomplished flames on my soles before and that frightened me quite a bit. If I have never tried something I am hesitant to do it- only because I do not know what to expect. The cropping on my underarms was another sensation I have never felt. It was highly painful but I still pridefully wear the marks. I had absolutely no control. I could not stir my soles at all. I was entirely vulnerable. I was on an emotional rollercoaster. One moment moaning as noisy as my vocal straps allowed. The next crying softly to myself. Then grinning from my heart. I left that night with actual crop marks on my soles which I never thought was possible considering how harsh the flesh is. strapped to the chair. Choking for my right to breathe. experiencing desperation as he managed the tube of mouth-watering oxygen. Having a line crossed by the tape being pushed up my nostrils. Every one of these elements helped in my reaching orgasm... 3 in a row no less. I left that night flying high as a kite. Unable to sleep, throwing and turning while dreaming of bastinado, Mr. Pogo, strapped toes, and breath control. Raw desire after Raw dream. PD gave me an extraordinaire gift. One that I will never forget.
Added: 2022-08-02 • Views: 26 • Duration: 38:31
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