He knew every word that she wanted. She gladly pay for each one.
You could sting her flesh as long as you kissed her mind.
See who else is being Wicked this Wednesday
His bare feet padded back and forth. His station was spread out all over the room. Gagged and blindfolded, she could still hear. His footsteps were the only warning that she had. She. Just. Ached. The stingy and the thuddy were gone.
There wasn’t a piece of flesh to mark that hadn’t already started showing its colors. Now we’re done with the first set of tears. There was new life in him. Now on to the sobbing.
He was getting to the real root of his work. Rip. It. Open.
The padding of his feet became a distant sound. He was hitting her faster. Harder. She couldn’t keep up. She was about to cum.
Your hair has been his leash longer and more often than any combination of metal and leather.
Ropes leave those wonderfully symmetrical marks, but his hands bruise you for days.
You’ve never had a toy that can make a fist to clench in your hair, or close around your throat. He can grab a handful of ass. Manhandling what’s his.
You’ve always loved those cuffs. You took the time to pick out just the right pair. They’ve been collecting dust because his body holds you in place.
Feel free to struggle.
You’re still not going anywhere.