Perdition

Andy San Dimas is breaking. Cyd sits back, smirking, arms crossed, watching every twitch she cannot control. He set this up. He gets to watch it unravel. Her jaw is forced open by a hard ring gag that looks like a funnel, spit spilling down her chin in long, hot strings that swing and drop onto her chest. She cannot swallow. She cannot close her mouth. Every breath pulls more drool out of her. Her shoulders burn. Her arms are wrenched high behind her, wrists locked to the ceiling, hips forced forward so her knees barely touch the floor. One inch of slack and she would fall flat on her face. She stays exactly where he wants her: spine arched, tits out, cunt exposed, drooling, shaking. Every time her legs tremble the strappado jerks tighter. Her muscles scream. Cyd leans in closer, eyes bright, enjoying the slow collapse. She fights to stay quiet. Then the first real sound breaks loose, raw, humiliated, unstoppable. She is on her knees because he put her there, and she stays there because she has no other choice.