I didn’t know I was a squirter until I was abducted...

My master said he always knew. He says he could tell I was a slut from the minute he laid eyes on me. That’s why he chose to kidnap me: to show me my true nature and set me free...

... I don’t know how long I’ve been gagged and tied up in this armchair. My legs are bent at the waist. My thighs are set wide apart. My knees are acquainted with my clamped tits. The ropes are fastened around my ankles and wrists, anchored by even more rope that wraps around the entire chair. I can’t shift at all. I’m stuck in this vulnerable position: legs spread wide; both my pussy and my asshole on full display.

Master has been fucking my ass for hours...

He’s a colossal bull of a man that I couldn’t hope to overpower in a million lifetimes. He’s completely naked so I can see all his bulky muscles, each one serving as a testament of how impossible it would to escape him.

My pussy is a big sloppy mess: red, dripping, and swollen. I’ve squirted so many times I stopped keeping track. My juices spray in a magnificent eruption whenever I cum, plentiful sharp lines of high-pressured shame shooting out from my filthy cunt in a steaming geyser.

Even now, as Master pounds my ass, rough and hard, my cunt is steadily drooling. A generous flow of vulgar honey seeps from my twitching slit and dribbles all over the place. The edge of the armchair cushion beneath me is already soaked through. I’m ashamed of the mess I’ve made; ashamed how much my body loves this abuse; ashamed I’ve become such a filthy slut and willing slave.