Deflowered

She’s flat on her stomach, face mashed to the floor, wrists chained tight behind her back. Her thighs are spread over a wooden rail, steel cuffs digging into each toe so she can’t shift an inch. cyd sets a bowl of water beside her. She laughs—nervous, shaky—thinking he’s joking. He isn’t. When she barely dips her tongue, he snatches the bowl and dumps it over her head. Cold shock and dripping hair. Fayth’s only two bondage shoots in. She lost her virginity three years ago at twenty-one, used to think she’d save herself for marriage. Now chains and toe-cuffs have her rethinking everything. cyd slices the clothes straight off her, stuffs a gag between her teeth, then drags a thin wooden skewer across the soles of her feet. Her brow knots, breath quickens, sweat beads. He straps her back to a post, shoves a thick dildo up inside her, forces her into a spread squat so every twitch drives the cock deeper. The flogger snaps across her tits. She starts to ride it, thighs shaking. When the vibrator hits her clit she cusses through the gag, rides harder, and comes hard enough her knees give. Later he hogties her in leather, fires up the fucking machine, and leaves her drooling and moaning around the gag while the piston pounds her senseless.