A Quiet Riot:Goth Slut Submits!

She starts on her back, arms locked under her, legs spread wide to hold the rest of her weight. One wrong twitch and she drops. Clothes pins bite into her skin. A blindfold cuts the light. Then the flogging starts—sharp, steady. A crotch rope runs tight between her legs, a twelve-pound bowling ball swinging off the end to keep her honest. Electricity follows, quick jolts that make her jolt harder. When she’s earned it, The Pope lets the orgasms come. She stays quiet, but her body gives her away. Next she’s flipped, ass high, face down. Cane stripes her soles, one after another. Elastic bands snap on after that, constant low-level burn she can’t shake. The Pope watches, waits, adds more when he decides she needs it. Only after she’s taken enough does he pull fresh orgasms out of her; this time she can’t swallow the sound. Last position: shackled flat to the wooden table. He works over every inch, calm and exact, then zeroes in. Fingers and a vibrator hammer her pussy without pause, dragging climax after climax until the quiet goth girl is nothing but noise—loud, raw, finished.