Stocked Slut Part One
Maybe sometimes he wonders why he likes to hurt them. The women. Why he likes to make them not quite human. With this one, he's decided he'll immobilize her mouth, thereby immobilizing her flesh. Because her flesh controls him, those breasts that he ties so tight they balloon. He beats them. Tweaks them. Foamy drool spills down her chin. She squirms. She screams. And then he plays with her clit and she begs for it. She moans. And when she comes, she screams again. It's not that different - the pain and the pleasure. And besides, maybe he likes the screams. He screws her mouth to the floor. He whips her. He canes her. Harsh marks crisscross all over her body, spiking her into the never never land of love. Her pussy swells. She's lost all sense. She's hysterical. He spanks her ass till it's red like a baboon in heat. Pure animal. Pure flesh. Pure love. The stocks are made of thick wood, heavy. They hold her wrists and neck. She's chained to a post. This is how people go mad. Because there's no relief. No end. Nothing but the unrelenting pain of being alive. He stuffs food into her mouth until she overflows. She tries her best. But it will never be enough. Not for her or for him. At some point he'll make it worse. It always gets worse. Because he's restless. So he wanders about, held in thrall, lost in her garden of misery.
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