Water Torture
Cherry red. Her blouse. A thick metal collar holds her neck motionless. The leather hood so conforms to her face that she looks to be a stylized being, not quite real you might think. Not quite. Her body is locked onto a chair of welded steel. Hands and head are held in a rigid plane perpendicular to the metal grid that separates her body from her head. And she waits. Then she is inside a large water tank, spread eagled by shackles and chains. He plays with her breasts, her pussy. When he tightens the chain that holds her collar, she struggles to rise higher. Her feet shift in small increments, rattling the chains. Through round portals, light pours upon her body, illuminating her from the sides. Water from a high-pressure spray hits her like bullets. Her cherry red blouse clings to her nipples. It outlines her breasts. Water mauls her face, nose, lips, and breasts. He pulls her breasts out of her bra and places the gun of the nozzle there, at her nipples. He aims at her cunt. Then she is naked. Rivulets of water course her skin. The slice of the spray goes on. The gun is positioned at the entry to her vagina. It shoots inside. It cleans her asshole. Water spouts outward between her thighs. Next, she is suspended in the tank, a spider gag in her mouth. Leather straps grapple each of her outstretched limbs, spreading her as though she is in a sling. Water shoots into her mouth. She tries to turn away, but the water follows. The pink of her tongue and lips are reminiscent of cherry. Her cherry pink clit is battered bright by the water. Her screams reverberate, cascading like water, pounding all that metal. Her body rocks with her efforts to protect her cunt, her nipples. Until suddenly, the water stops. The lights go out. He goes away. She’s crying. Her head is held upright by a thick metal U-bolt forced into her mouth. A copper dildo penetrates her. She is bound into the metal chair, her arms pulled tightly behind, legs held open wide. Copper wires wrap her breasts. Her nipples are perfect, pointed, ready. Her lipstick matches the color painted on her toenails. You guessed it. Cherry. The color of pain. An electric box with numerous switches can be seen in the foreground. He sprays her down, wetting her body. Then he attaches scissor connectors onto the wires, as though jumping his car. He throws the first switch. Her screech tells everything. The eroscillator hums. She melts onto it. He shocks her and vibrates her simultaneously. She wants it. She craves it. And he gives it to her. But then he stops. He leaves. Maybe she wants him back. Maybe. In the empty darkness, rain pounds the roof. She’s upright again, hanging by the neck and hands in metal stocks. Chains hold the ankle stocks. A dildo is strapped inside of her. The gag that he shoves into her mouth is the color of cherries. More spray. More water. Slicing into mouth, nose, eyes. She swings, suspended, illuminated by light that pours through opposing portholes. Water drips. The creak of the chains. The lights go dim. She is alone.
내 별점 · 메모 · 리스트
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