Neophutos part 2
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The tour is beginning. I’m told to sit down on the floor as Sir commences attaching me to a large, intense steel triangle. My ankles are squeezed badly into the iron cuffs. I guess people truly can be big-boned, because my feet are going stun by the time he’s secured the iron band around my neck and the cuffs on my wrists. He asks me to pull my gams out in front of me as far as I can. The tension on my ankles causes me to wince, and I attempt to adjust my neck inwards the band — it’s so tight. After an hour of this torture, I am let out only lengthy enough to have him pull my gams into a taut yoga posture so he can tie my breasts to my ankles. I'm going from one gruelling posture to another, and I languish in my own defenseless misery for a while. I am again untied, this time so I can stand, so that Sir can manacle my wrists behind my back, as well as put a leather cord attached to a strap on a pulley around my neck. I find it’s stiff to breathe, and even more difficult to swallow. I stand on my toes to attempt and relax some of the pressure, but shortly I am asked to spread my legs. Obediently, I do so immediately, only to find this lowers me and makes getting air that much more difficult. Stubborn, I resolve to stay with my gams spread for the entire 2 hours, only moving to turn around and show people my youthful body. I hear Sir commanding me to juggle up and down to make my tits shake. As I’m doing this I’m told to repeat, "I'm a restrain bondage hooter slut." With a crimson face I do so, still bouncing, until Sir has finally stopped chuckling at me. I am humiliated. 2 hours have passed, and now I'm told the real joy is about to begin. My neck is let out from the cord and the handcuffs are removed. Soon, Sir is trussing my wrists and hands rigidly behind my back with a harsh rope. Concluding this task, he tells me to cower down and take off my sneakers and socks. With my hands virtually useless, this is frustratingly difficult, but I finally persevere. I sight up at Sir to observe if He is pleased, but have no time, as I’m standing up and having my own grubby socks stuffed in from one side of the hatch to the other. Clear plastic tape is wound around my head to secure the sock gag. Looking devious, Sir says that I’ll be receiving a caning. Cringing, I attempt to prepare myself for what is to come, but shortly tears are running down my delicate cheeks and landing on my nimble breasts. I sob out into the gag as he hits me repeatedly on my ass, thighs, and on my tits. I’ve only had 2 other croppings before, so they are still overwhelming. However, I find myself strangely exhilarated by the end of the beating.
The tour is beginning. I’m told to sit down on the floor as Sir commences attaching me to a large, intense steel triangle. My ankles are squeezed badly into the iron cuffs. I guess people truly can be big-boned, because my feet are going stun by the time he’s secured the iron band around my neck and the cuffs on my wrists. He asks me to pull my gams out in front of me as far as I can. The tension on my ankles causes me to wince, and I attempt to adjust my neck inwards the band — it’s so tight. After an hour of this torture, I am let out only lengthy enough to have him pull my gams into a taut yoga posture so he can tie my breasts to my ankles. I'm going from one gruelling posture to another, and I languish in my own defenseless misery for a while. I am again untied, this time so I can stand, so that Sir can manacle my wrists behind my back, as well as put a leather cord attached to a strap on a pulley around my neck. I find it’s stiff to breathe, and even more difficult to swallow. I stand on my toes to attempt and relax some of the pressure, but shortly I am asked to spread my legs. Obediently, I do so immediately, only to find this lowers me and makes getting air that much more difficult. Stubborn, I resolve to stay with my gams spread for the entire 2 hours, only moving to turn around and show people my youthful body. I hear Sir commanding me to juggle up and down to make my tits shake. As I’m doing this I’m told to repeat, "I'm a restrain bondage hooter slut." With a crimson face I do so, still bouncing, until Sir has finally stopped chuckling at me. I am humiliated. 2 hours have passed, and now I'm told the real joy is about to begin. My neck is let out from the cord and the handcuffs are removed. Soon, Sir is trussing my wrists and hands rigidly behind my back with a harsh rope. Concluding this task, he tells me to cower down and take off my sneakers and socks. With my hands virtually useless, this is frustratingly difficult, but I finally persevere. I sight up at Sir to observe if He is pleased, but have no time, as I’m standing up and having my own grubby socks stuffed in from one side of the hatch to the other. Clear plastic tape is wound around my head to secure the sock gag. Looking devious, Sir says that I’ll be receiving a caning. Cringing, I attempt to prepare myself for what is to come, but shortly tears are running down my delicate cheeks and landing on my nimble breasts. I sob out into the gag as he hits me repeatedly on my ass, thighs, and on my tits. I’ve only had 2 other croppings before, so they are still overwhelming. However, I find myself strangely exhilarated by the end of the beating.
Added: 2023-04-07 • Views: 29 • Duration: 26:57
Categories: BDSM
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