Sneak Blow - Sierra Cirque
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Leep is fitful and only possible after the tiredness of steady shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It perceives like my assets has been coated in blows - the rocks are hurting me. Its getting colder. The sun is lower; It planks thru a window and illuminates the details of what hovers above me. I am one of those web tied carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squelches embark -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- regularly diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The scent increases in size fouler by the day; my toilet is my bed. In the beginning he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, toying with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was dressed in a gas mask. The everyday errands of the grounds are much more interesting as I permit my mind to ramble to that creature entombed in my barn. It is less distracting of late because of the stink, and I now must face the task of cleaning it. I have well-prepped a platform based on the designs I have seen at the county fair; A grooming table that holds her wrist and ankles so she is on all fours. For days I have been content with just knowing that it was stored there. To compensate and motivate the chore of cleaning it, I want to take it to another level. I am going to bifurcate her -- two for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The cock gargling will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will moderate and erect her gash for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the dark-hued head bag and that awful pole that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my belly -- I know this drill, so I put my arms behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the shackles together.) He glides the bag on my head, yanks the chain taut and locks it. I hear the silenced sound of the grate on the concrete. He yanks me out of the fuck hole by my neck. The concrete scraps my flesh as I fight to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forth by that pole. It is a stifling scare -- I cannot watch where I am stepping. He seems to pleasure in letting me excursion or briskly walking me into obstacles. I’m now on all 4s locked at the wrist and ankles. It must be a table or platform of some kind. He pulls the rubber hood off my head -- the purpose of this pose is all of a sudden clear. A bucket of soapy water and a hosepipe are lounging on the floor. Im sure he will make what is to come as crappy as possible. I can’t help but breathe with excellent ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
Leep is fitful and only possible after the tiredness of steady shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It perceives like my assets has been coated in blows - the rocks are hurting me. Its getting colder. The sun is lower; It planks thru a window and illuminates the details of what hovers above me. I am one of those web tied carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squelches embark -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- regularly diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The scent increases in size fouler by the day; my toilet is my bed. In the beginning he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, toying with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was dressed in a gas mask. The everyday errands of the grounds are much more interesting as I permit my mind to ramble to that creature entombed in my barn. It is less distracting of late because of the stink, and I now must face the task of cleaning it. I have well-prepped a platform based on the designs I have seen at the county fair; A grooming table that holds her wrist and ankles so she is on all fours. For days I have been content with just knowing that it was stored there. To compensate and motivate the chore of cleaning it, I want to take it to another level. I am going to bifurcate her -- two for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The cock gargling will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will moderate and erect her gash for my cock. Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the dark-hued head bag and that awful pole that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my belly -- I know this drill, so I put my arms behind my back immediately. (Reaching thru the grate he locks the shackles together.) He glides the bag on my head, yanks the chain taut and locks it. I hear the silenced sound of the grate on the concrete. He yanks me out of the fuck hole by my neck. The concrete scraps my flesh as I fight to build up my footing. This is the worst -- he shoves me forth by that pole. It is a stifling scare -- I cannot watch where I am stepping. He seems to pleasure in letting me excursion or briskly walking me into obstacles. I’m now on all 4s locked at the wrist and ankles. It must be a table or platform of some kind. He pulls the rubber hood off my head -- the purpose of this pose is all of a sudden clear. A bucket of soapy water and a hosepipe are lounging on the floor. Im sure he will make what is to come as crappy as possible. I can’t help but breathe with excellent ease as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
Added: 2021-04-05 • Views: 42 • Duration: 50:55
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