You tied yourself up… for me? Left yourself helpless, exposed, desperate to be used but too incompetent to even gag yourself properly. I walked in and didn’t free you. I made it worse. I tightened every rope, locked every cuff, and watched you squirm as I stripped down then shoved my worn, damp black lace panties straight into your mouth. Soaked in my pussy sweat, my arousal, my dominance. You breathed me in like oxygen. Like life. Then came my gym socks worn, salty, musky pressed against your face, pushed into your mouth. I made you worship my foot sweat, lick the stains, taste your own degradation. I spanked you rhythmically not for torment, but for humiliation. I edged you five times, made you feel every second of denial. I plugged your ass, vibrated your prostate, and let you cum, only to gag you with your own cum-soaked sock. You’re not being freed. You’re not going anywhere. You’re just a toy a cum-stained gag with a pulse left bound and dripping in my filth. Will you beg to stay like this?
