Slink Charnel

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The coyotes will have a feast; her valiva runs phat and copiously. I am beside myself with this whore. She cringes at my attentions yet her bod pulses, reaching out for more. This is the ultimate state and the final betrayal. Her mind and perceive of self have hopelessly failed. I readied her with a tight clam truss and positioned her in the middle of the mattress. Devices of foray encircle the altar. Letting her stew for a duo hours will afford her the chance to amuse herself by imagining how they all will be used. It was time for the trail. Blindfolded and guided by the strap cleaving her cootchie she is yanked up the hill. Every step is a funk and her feet are jabbed by bristle and shale. Arriving at the grotto I truss her to a tree. Her skull fuckhole is stuffed with 2 store rags and sealed with filling tape. For added measure her jaw is sealed shut with a wrap over the top of her head. Her screams will scarcely be audible over the caw of the crows. The crows are declaring a new arrival; the celebrate is at hand. Lets start with some red life essence drawn as the whine of the mosquito fades in an out about her head.