My Extreme bondage body aches from the brutal flogging, yet each stroke of the whip sends jolts of electricity straight to my aching clit. I’m bound tightly, ropes digging into my flesh as I hang suspended in the air. My mind swims with a hazy concoction of pain and pleasure, the lines blurred beyond recognition.
He’s right, I live for this or the exquisite agony that tears me apart even as it sets my soul on fire. I’m addicted to the depravity, the utter degradation of being used as Master’s bitch.
He parts my thighs, exposing my dripping cunt to the cool air. A shudder wracks my frame at the vulnerability. “So wet for me already, you filthy whore. I bet you’d let me do anything to this body, hm?”
A particularly vicious strike across my ass has me screaming, eyes rolling back in my head. “Y-yes, Master! Please, use me however you want! I’m your broken little Bondage whore!”
Master chuckles darkly, fisting a hand in my hair. “Oh, I intend to, pet. I’m going to ruin you in the most deliciously brutal ways imaginable. By the time I’m done, you won’t even remember your name.”
Tears of gratitude leak down my cheeks. My existence is to be defiled, to be broken and reshaped in the Master’s image. I’m nothing more than a canvas for his sadistic whims, and I’ve never felt more complete.
He sheaths his thick cock in my throat without warning, holding me in place as he fucks my face raw. I gag and sputter, spit dripping down my chin as he uses my mouth like a cheap fleshlight. It’s so wrong, so filthy and degrading. And God’s help me, I love every second.
Breanne
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