Realtimebondage - Peaches (1080p)

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Perhaps this is the manner in which she saves herself. Because all that she feels outside of herself is nothingness. So she heads to him. His use of her makes her solid, heavy, like figures are intended to be heavy, and how souls contain infinite mass. His cruel management of her mammories encourages her out of her unnatural sleep. Agony is a voice of the spirit rousing itself. Cords grow luminous in a mind gone dim. Whipping rectifies balance, each hammer conspicuous, bright points like Christmas lights strung about her limbs. He frosts her like a tree. He drapes her from her stretched, aching mammories as tho' she is a dark angel. He walls her into her soft, nimble skin and tastes her like a vintner tests wine. Made manifest on the eve of her destruction, the birthing of her body is more about difficulty than ease. And in her weightless condition of diseased dreams, she must be brought back to herself by the use of extremes. Cords and cords strapping her ankles, knees, wrists, arms, and neck are neither reality nor sleep. The prying open of her hatch with hooks and the compression of her mammories inbetween metallic rungs, anchor her in the realm of the living because of fear and excitement, the electricities of flesh.