Scare and Euphoria Felonie

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She says she enjoys railing that line, the one inbetween funk and euphoria. It reminds me of a tryptych of Bosch. On one side, Paradise. On the other side, Hell. It is the center panel that fascinates. And that is where we find felonie. He's roped her elbows behind her back until they almost touch. Another cable covers her nipples. Toes strapped together. Ass plug. Dildo. A set of stocks screwed onto her neck. She comes stiff and fast, not bothering to ask permission. Now she has to be punished. We have to ask did she forget on purpose? Because the glance in her eyes tells us that she's fallen to one side of the line. Euphoria. Bosch would have appreciated this side of PD. He contorts and twists the faces of pretty girls. PD slides strap hooks on either side of felonie's facehole and then catapults a nose hook. Now she looks like a living skull. Felonie takes a lashing on her soles and ass, at first-ever screaming, but learning to be quiet and thank PD for each strike. When she's tied to a fuckbench with her arse jutted into the air, she pulverizes herself on Mr. Pogo. And for some reason, she keeps coming sans asking permission. Her penalties mount. She takes a dual spanking. Her cooter is phat and gleaming. Like knives gleam in the center panel of Bosch's tryptych. Like trumpets gleam in the forearms of angels. Bare bods punctured gleam. Fires glow. Panic. Euphoria. Where is the line now?