My Master had me ready for torture sex. Spread-eagle and hogtied, my wrists and ankles cinched so tight the hemp rope bit deep into my skin. I was shaking, a desperate, leaking mess, while he called me a useless, hole-hungry slut. I loved every word of it.
Then came the wax. He tilted the candle, letting the searing, molten heat drip slowly onto my swollen nipples. I screamed as the hot wax hardened, trapping the heat against my skin. He didn’t stop there; he poured a thick, boiling stream directly onto my clit and across my soaking wet cunt. The contrast of the burning wax and my pulsing heat was electric, leaving me sobbing and begging for more.
But the real punishment started when he flipped me over. No lube, no warnings—just a thick, punishing cock slamming into my tight ass. He gripped my hair, yanking my head back while he fucked my ass raw. Every thrust was a brutal reminder that I’m nothing but his toy. He hammered into my gut, calling me a filthy little cum-dumpster while I choked on my own moans.
I’m still sore, still smelling like wax and sex, and I can’t wait for him take out his snuff sex fantasies on me again!
Stay deviant.
Chelsea
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