She rattled the chains that held her, looking for that inch of leeway. None existed.

Trussed up tight with arms and legs bound, with body bent and cunt exposed.

“Walk into my parlor…”

The whispered words tickled her ears, caressing like the fingers trailing down her back. They tap, gentle than hard and then back to gentle.

A warning and a promise.

Soft hands became hard and bruising as they gripped her hips, holding her steady.

“Will you walk into my parlor?”

A tease along her wet skin. Parting and retreating, making her inch back to receive.

“Said the spider to the fly.”

The punishing thrust that split her open, that filled her to the brim, pushed her reply from gasping lips.


She welcomed the brutal intent behind each thrust. He would consume every inch of her and she would enjoy her beautiful destruction.

Cara in black and white, lying on a bed with red tape around her wrists in post titled Rumination

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