Sexting On Kik - She sticks it in deep.

She can no more, she can only withdraw moaning and thrusting. Two fists, purple as crimson moons pel-lits the back of his neck. He can feel her thick climax coming. He tells her to fuck him more. She strains against her bonds trying to spilt blood on the base of her anointed, aroused body. He removes the device from her brain. He flips her over. Raising her chin from the floor, he places her face to the mattress. Again the device from her brain. He turns her face to the mattress and tucks the coils of rope behind her back. She raises her head to the ceiling. She sucks the last drop of blood from her reddened, aching shoulders. She moans pitifully, unable to do anything else. He would have to shoot his load to regain her freedom, but that would anger her host. He draws the razor in deeply, carefully shaving the skin. The small groove where the razor passes through the rings is small, but it creates a small pool of blood in the wood. He marks the spot.

She reacts almost catatonic. With an animalistic scream she loses consciousness. Her soft heart and lungs return. She absorbs the attack, unaware that she has also just passed through a cum trench. She can feel the rising tension, the drive to hit that crucial plateau. She can feel the fire in her limbs, the need to open, the pent-up emotions returning. She is overwhelmed by these sensations. She is on the edge of a great, long-awaited orgasm. Her blood-red nails dig into the wood of the rail. She gasps, catches her breath, sighs, falters. She cannot believe that she has just given birth to a fully autonomous being. She is overwhelmed by the realization that she is now truly in charge of her life. She is the slave. The Mistress. He removes the clamps from her nipples. She gasps, turns her head.

Her back has come to rest on the bed in the ashes. Not quite able to recognize the sensation of the strong clamps suddenly biting back, causing rapid eye movement as they travel up the back of her neck. Her eyes widen as she realizes she is surrounded by warm flames shooting down from the sky. The burning has become an uncontrollable stream of fire that sweeps her every which way. She has survived, and the fire is inexorably with her. The burning has become a channel. She cannot feel pain no more. The fire is her only means. She feels nothing, except the intense need of pain. She senses death almost as well as the great pain of her self. She touches the end of the wooden rail. She hesitates. She sees a pair of eyes, both watching her, hunger in them. She could die. She does not know which. She waits. Her legs slowly reach up the wooden rail..