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Muzzle Crimes

Edition en anglais

  • Editeurs divers USA

  • Paru le : 27/04/2017
The two stout posts, perhaps as old as the castle itself, rise from the rough stone floor and ascend into the darkness above. A woman's reaching hands... > Lire la suite
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The two stout posts, perhaps as old as the castle itself, rise from the rough stone floor and ascend into the darkness above. A woman's reaching hands can barely touch both at once. I, bound between them, can certainly not, though my bare, cold feet, pulled apart beyond endurance, almost can. The spread of my legs is already a strain, especially on the inner thighs, available for a punishment that has not yet come.
When I pee, as I have once already and must again soon, I expected it to go straight down to the floor, as a man's would, but my hopes were dashed as the slow coolness slid down my leg, leaving behind an itch that bothers me still, despite my efforts to shake it off. Perhaps this is because, at the very juncture of those legs, where lean thigh skin shades into softer, darkly-wrinkled flesh, a coarse rope nestles - no, that is too soft a word - crushes ruthlessly into my bone-dry slit, supporting my weight at the expense of sanity.
It, too, must be made fast somewhere both front and back; my one attempt to push myself forward on it yielded only pitiless abrasion. Encased in the muzzle, I cannot see this, of course. My uselessly flapping hands - already feeling ashen and numb - would willingly reach for the muzzle straps, worrying them until the vile thing came off my head, but my arms are braced tightly behind, the turns of hemp around my right wrist pulling it far to the left and the left wrist far to the right.
Tied off, no doubt, onto the selfsame posts. More rope lashes my elbows together in an X, forcing my chest out the way She likes (and I like in secret, though She may know). My all too proud breasts, rounder now though perhaps less high, are spread wide and taut by the nooses, leaving my needy tips swollen with the chill. Perfectly available to Her loving touch that does not come, though I believe - I want to believe - that She comes down the ladder on silent feet and looks at me from time to time, perhaps gloating, perhaps rubbing herself to ecstacy while watching my slow, poor struggles.

Fiche technique

  • Date de parution : 27/04/2017
  • Editeur : Editeurs divers USA
  • ISBN : 978-1-370-42753-6
  • EAN : 9781370427536
  • Format : ePub
  • Caractéristiques du format ePub
    • Protection num. : pas de protection

À propos de l'auteur

Biographie de Tina B

My earliest sexy memory is of discovering a paperback hidden behind the leather-bound books filling the spotless bookcases in my father's sprawling house. The paperback opened with a scene of a woman being tied to her bed by a detective - recreating the woman's rape so he could photograph it "for evidence". It made me wet - and I wasn't really even sure how sex worked yet. Later on, I would tie myself up when my parents weren't home, rubbing my crotch on the bed until I came.
It wasn't until after college that I got up the courage to look for a bondage partner for real. And discovered that in most cases the real thing is a pale imitation of what one imagines. So I took up writing about my sexual fantasies. Wrote extensively for a now defunct website, StoryBondage.com. And now for you, here. If you're a submissive, remember to ONLY play in public places or privately with people you know well.
ALWAYS let someone else know where you are and when to expect you back. There are a lot of sick fucks out there. Some of whom I write about.
 Tina B - Muzzle Crimes.
Muzzle Crimes
4,99 €
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