Oxygen Calico

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A dentist's tabouret sits empty, waiting. Blinded and handcuffed, she's led to the chair. He sits her down and handcuffs lock her ankles and wrists in place. Her clothes are torn and cut off her body. He gropes her melons then slides strap thru her nip rings to her collar, pulling the strap tight, opening up her nipples. Her body twists against the iron holding her in place. A fresh iron face-hole creation fits inbetween her teeth. He flogs her breasts. Slobber runs in a stream. He uses it to grease her pussy. The Fish, a dual iron hook, slides into her cunt, prying her open. A magic wand nestles inbetween the folds of her inward labia. Her thighs start a rhythmic motion. Because now she wants what he's doing to her. She wants it highly much. You can witness it in her eyes and her face, in the softened form of her mouth. With PD, it's always more straps. He tightens them around her chest, her neck, and her forehead. She's reclined. Her ankles are bound to the armrests so that her gash is hiked and her gams spread. Clamps corded to her toes open up her labia. Her cootchie opens, rosy and juicy. Mr. Pogo pushes into her cunt. PD flogs her foot as she comes. A gas mask encloses her head. PD links a tube and bellows. This is her task for the next few hours. Breathing. He places the moans inbetween her knees so that she can pump it. If she spurts it she's done, a goner breathless. He stimulates her again, but occasionally she leaves behind to pump the bellows. Because it takes concentration, coming and sighing all at the same time. He laughs. Don't forget to breathe, he says. It's subtle, the game he plays with her. He makes her come many times. And then he leaves. And she's attempting to remember to pump the bellows. It's all about oxygen.