More immobile than this chab imagined possible. But this is the type of perverted, psychological position I spend my nights dreaming about, my days planning... what does that say about me? About a client who asks for my twisted, no-going-back-bondage? The nylon belts have him so very feeble this guy can barely groan -- can't watch, can't lift his head, can't hear, can't save himself... and now the pleasure part... How many ounces of pathetic man-milk should I make out of him? How many times previous to he's broken?
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