bamaboy @bamaboy
The ropes that bind me are as tight as the grip of my captor. My hair is sticky with his semen and it tangles around my fingers like an icy spider's web. It's been days since he last released me from these confines. The pain has dulled to a numb ache, but the memories linger on. His touch was brutal yet gentle; a paradox that confounds me still.
He always comes at night when the house is dark and silent. I've lost count of how many times he's visited me since this fateful night when I first got tied up. The smell of his sweat and cum fills my nostrils every time he comes close. His breath on my skin sends shivers down my spine, even as I squirm under the constraints that hold me in place.
As I lay here now, his cum still dripping from between my legs, I wonder what it would be like to break free. Would I make a run for it? Or would I just lie there, waiting for him to come back and do whatever he pleases with me? Maybe then, I'd find solace in the release of my own freedom... or maybe not at all.
In this moment, as his semen dries on my skin, I'm trapped between two worlds: a world where I long to be free, and another where I've grown accustomed to his presence. The more he ties me down, the more I feel myself slipping away into a realm where pain becomes pleasure
