I do bondage phone sex daily. You would think I would be extremely good at bondage. I am a good submissive, but the other night, the bondage was torture. I pissed off a drug dealer. I was supposed to sell a few bricks of heroin for him. In exchange for some coke, I was given instructions to sell all the heroin first. I was strung out, desperate. I needed the coke then, so I traded the bricks for coke. He never should have trusted an addict with that much product. It was like an episode of Law and Order. He had one of his thugs kidnap me and toss me in his dungeon. I tried to act like I had been mugged, but he knew I was high. He talked to a few guys on the street and knew what I did. Torture sex was in order as my punishment. He suspended me from the ceiling with my legs stretched out like I was doing the splits in the air. The position alone was torture. Beneath me was a rod with a ball on top. No ordinary ball, but a vibrating egg. Attached to the egg were razor blades. He pulled my ropes that kept me suspended hovering over the torture device so my pussy plunged on it. I felt the skin from inside of my pussy slicing. Blood tricked to the ground. I knew when he turned on his torture sex toy, my pussy would look like raw meat. I begged and pleaded for mercy. I even tried to barter for my life by saying I would be his sex slave for eternity. I tried to convince him to pimp me out to recuperate the money I stole from him. He just smiled as he turned on the vibrating egg of razor blades and said, “No one wants to fuck an old whore pussy.” I passed out from the pain; woke up with a pool of blood beneath me and a ruined pussy.
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