
They have no idea how kinky you are.
It’s always been such a loving and relaxed relationship.
How could you tell them how badly you want to be used.
What would they think of you, knowing the sort of things you read,
the countless nights you’ve stayed up into the early morning,
cumming over and over again while watching videos of women in tears,
watching as they are tortured and degrading, wishing you could be them.
It’s more than just a little rough sex, and you know it.
Hair pulling, face slapping, they get you wet, but you want more.
It’s become a constant distraction that you just can’t stop thinking about.
So here you are now… kneeling in the entryway, hands cuffed behind you.
Gagged, blindfolded, and on the entryway table, your laptop, open to your blog.
There won’t be any turning back now, they’re at the door, turning the key,
and your heart is pounding, pulse racing, and your panties…
well… they’re soaked, aren’t they?







