Strapped down with a brush slipping over my tits and teasing me until I’m a discomforted mess, I knew I couldn’t ask for anything different than soft bondage. I risk everything every day, and every dangerous moment or breath I give to someone else makes it all feel worth it. I take great bliss in the uncomfortable, in being teased and used. I feel amazing when I can barely breathe and my every nerve is singing at me. I need to be used and somehow this guy knew exactly what he had to do to get me down on the table with straps tied up all over me. My legs spread, my juices leaking onto the table with every tease, my naked body the showpiece for him and his friends. He’s got others staring at me, using me, appeasing their own whims while pushing me past boundaries I didn’t know I had. Too bad those boundaries will be gone by the time they’re done using their submissive whore, just a memory of a stuck-up girl I didn’t know I was. I’m always pushing further, growing more into myself and becoming kinkier. Every day is another step into a taboo-less valley of urges and desires met at every turn. I’m grateful for the experience, even if every touch and tease and abuse brings me just a little further from my husband. I used to be such a nice and cute girl, a wallflower without the slightest idea what this kind of world was like. Maybe that’s why I got addicted so fast, why my urges exploded and the next thing I knew my pussy was my main attraction and my pretty fast was no longer important. Fuck, I need this, I need to be treated like the whore I really am. It makes me feel so real and in the moment to be tortured, even if just a little. I can’t get anything like this with my normal husband, even if I wish he’d change his ways and realize what a submissive slut like me needs.
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