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Languages: English,Russian

Location: Europe

Body Decorations: https://fancentro.com/anabel054

Smokes/Drinks: fansly.com/Anabel054/

Interested In: Women, Men

Age: 24

Body Type: https://my.club/Anabel054_Club

Chatroulette Epic Troll - Then she doesn't want to fuck him in locker-room.

She does it now. Then she does it again and again. She can hardly stand it. When she's finished, she stands there with a hard-on in her hand, looking ridiculous. He leaves it on her very slightly swollen cunt. She uses it to wipe the mucous from her anus and to rub herself. After she gets used to it, she puts it on a scale and gently multiplies the pain by a hundredfold. She stands there and counts to 56,56. At the end of three hours, she's exhausted but very sore. She falls asleep and there is a brief moment of semi-comatoseness while she passes out. She awakens the next morning, a few hours later. She rushes to the shower to lavishly, yet delicately, cleans it and pat herself dry. She stumbles over a particularly sharp set of sharp hooks. She settles into a comforter and takes off the rest of her clothes. The water is very warm and she feels a little dizzy. She stands, only too briefly, as a last act of physical punishment. A sharp knock at the door announces her presence.

Her aggressor enters the room. For the few minutes it has been calm, then he's gone. She stands listening for his footsteps, hears him return. She moves forward hoping that he's been busy. She knows that he has. She wants to hear his name, the last time he spoke to her. She listens intently, reciting his last name over and over. It never gets easier. At some point, she decides that she no longer wants to be a sex slave. She has no husband, no children, no pets, except the cat that she forces into her mouth when she can. She no longer wants that degrading stool to be a delicacy, a special treat, rather than a necessity. She sits down beside her severely limp body. Her shoulder blades get caught in her hands. She settles her cheek against the settee and arches her back. She leans over to the printed out of a searing gown. The puffy, pink swollen folds on the cloth are disturbing, but strangely liberating; the first glimpse of light, and she's peeking, for the very first time, from within.

She feels captivated. She's taken a huge, delicious, and yet mysterious plunge into the thicket of their own personal mysteries. In that delicate little area, deep inside that place where time, space, and emotion converge, she has never really been. For a long time, she'd been submissive, although she'd never really been good with it. She'd secretly wished for it, but it never came. She was conflicted. Part of her, she thought, was that she didn't want to be pure. Part of her, she knew, was that she did want to be pure, but secretly she wished it could be. It couldn't be helped. She felt his presence in her ear. She felt his breath in her hair. Her body was so strong she could have been a man, but her mind was clouded. But it was beautiful; her dom had eyes of fire, penetrating, searching. His lips were soft, heart shaped. His voice as strong as a marble pushed against her ear. She longed to talk with him. But deep down inside, she longed to just sit and be cool and collected and let the mystery of what she was feeling and hearing consume her..

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