By slavebladeboi
Today I was his toy, but then I knew that as soon as he stretched me into a vertical spread eagle.
The leather wrist restraints that were bolted to the high beam seemed to get tighter the sweatier my wrists got, helped no doubt by the fine mist of oil that he had sprayed all over me. The temperature in the dungeon was in the low 90s but humid, and I felt each trickle of oily sweat slowly and constantly running down my body.
I’d been alone and in this position for at least a couple of hours now. Is that all? I hear you say. Well you try it and you’ll soon see how time can sometimes drag. I’m standing with my feet in wooden stocks and spread far enough to make my hole available and easily filled.
He was good at DIY too, almost engineering standards if what I was in was anything to go by. The milking machine was fixed in a position in front of me and also strapped to me so, although I could hardly move anyway, there was no way it was coming even slightly loose.
