It isn't the fear of heights that this slave is believing in this BDSM session. Master James has slave abigail outdoors today. She is natural leather strapped to a pole a bit off the ground, view robbed with a cloth mailbag over her head and also top body and after that whipped. Her worry of being sacked has her vocal singing like a bird in a snap.

The noise of the whips echo, the screams blend with the appeals for Master to quit. The moment stretches out, movement is limited, the discomfort burns icy warm. The smell of natural leather and fear loads the nose inverted for claimed last attacks of the agonizing whips like rainfall they drop. And all in my full view, seeing them bite individually, sensation as though my flesh is being flayed off. There is no choice yet to love the pain and also sustain the program, a life of a suffering for others to delight in.