Her Freedom

1 min read

He places the mask over her eyes, completely blocking the sun. The reality of a night sky. He proceeds to dress her in chains, tight across her breasts. She sits silently, head down, patient as he straps each strip of leather into its buckle. Her mind’s eye, empty of the world’s issues. She has no reason to think, her focus only tunnel vision. Her preparation. This is where she goes in the moment; even though her mind is empty, she is ever present.

He places her on her knees on the table, spreading her legs as she feels the cold steel shackle attached to the spreader bar. She is now hooked, bent. She, is something to see.

He begins to stroke her, big hands smoothly, soothing. Beginning at the bottom and rising to the top. Her clit tingles as she relaxes. He strikes her on her upturned ass with the old schoolmarm paddle. Its smoothness makes a whistling whiz as it strikes. She counts, 1, 2, 3, 4… she can and will take more. She receive the blows with very little outcry, as the duplicity of movement distances her from any singular sensation. She inhabits them all.

He inserts another foreign object into her anus. Its swirling mechanics combined with the stimulation of her clit, the spanked sensations all pull her into a fight or flight direction of forcefulness and intended ecstasy. She moans, writhing with no way to turn, as she pulls fiercely against her bondage… chains are broken. Physically broken. She is free.

He begins to stroke her, until she squirts that clear waterfall of organic cream, that feels as though it will never stop. She is tense, spent, as he loosens her restraints and turns her head to push his engorged penis into her waiting mouth. She suckles it like a mother’s tit, as it soothes the pain she feels and calms the euphoria below.

Deeply, he pushes, as she gags but does not choke, breathing deeply, heavily, past the entrapment. She tries to take him all in. He grabs the back of her head, pushing forward, pushing deeper in, then pulls out, pushing in again and again. Saliva drips like foam as he begins to stiffen, muscles taut, as he fully releases into her mouth, his tension. She does not withdraw, pursing her lips around him as she swallows, losing nothing.

Why must she crave this love? The fucking of her mind, her body, her soul, is complete… Loving is fucking is amazing, she must determine her own patterns and continue to write her own story. Defining her path will, of course, be her escape… her freedom.

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