Taboo phone sex subjects are my favorite for phone calls. Incest, rape fantasies, torture, BDSM, bathroom play, four legged friends, even snuff. You don’t call me if vanilla is what you crave. I’m a subby bitch whore in real life and on the phone. This weekend my son pimped me out to one of his friends. He does that often. “Why should one of my friends pay for common street hooker, when they can buy you. A suburban, classy, clean soccer mom,” he said to me as he pushed me into the arms of Edgar, a 45 year old co worker of his with a love for S and M games. I was blindfolded and thrown in the back of his van.
He threw me in a cage in his basement where I remained for 24 hrs in the dark with no food, water or human contact. I was forced to pee and defecate in the cage. Because I could not see, I was stepping in my own waste. I felt so violated. When Edgar returned for me he called me a “filthy pig.” I was forced to oink like a pig and roll around in my own shit. I wanted to wretch. This was not how I wanted to be treated. “You were bought and sold bitch. Stop your whining. I own you for at least another day,” he quipped as he pulled my head back gruffly and slapped a heavy chain around my neck.
I stood before him, naked, covered in my excrement, shackled and scared. He used a cattle prod to shock me, which made me piss down my leg further. He shoved the prod up my ass and I convulsed so hard I shit and puked all over the floor. These torture sex games went on for hours until I passed out in a pool of my body fluids. I woke up back in the cage with the words “dirty fuck pig” carved into my chest.
I thought that was the end of it; that I would soon be home to my son. It was just the beginning. I felt a fire hose turn on me, washing the skank off me. Naked, wet and scared, I was yanked from the cage, thrown in a room and sodomized for hours. Ass rape porn was part of the package. Edgar shared my tight asshole with about 50 of his closest friends. Instead of being covered in my own shit and piss, I was now doused in cum. By the time they were done with me, I prayed for death. I wondered if my son knew just how badly his business associate was going to treat his mommy? How would you treat your mother?
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