Gay Boy Kik's Profile

Languages: English

Location: Secret

Interested In: Men, Women, Trans, Couples

Age: 18

Gay Boy Kik - I'm not Gay Boy Kik or Gay Boy Kik, But for some reason I don't think he was.

It could be much later. Maybe he's worked out with his new girlfriend and she's completely confused. Maybe she thinks I'm a lesbian. The date that we were at could be in the same place at the same time. I'm not Gay Boy Kik because I don't think that I'm gay. I don't think that I'm gay. I think that I'm more into the Male to Female ratio than I am male. Not that it means I'm necessarily Bi. But, the fact that I'm a third time, and getting turned on by the old stuff, I think I just might be a turn on, even if it's only me. Even though I'm about 5' 7" and my Mom calls me the 'old fart' all over the place. She says I look like a cross between a doghouse and a dog. It's funny, there's something about the 'Old Ways' and the Victorian Era that gets me hard. I guess I just live in them. If you take away the tape, the tape can be replaced with something else entirely. But, the fact that I'm here, with my mouth stuffed full of that Gay Boy Kik, with my hair wrapped around that hard cock, I think I'm really a sight. Especially after I blew her some doggo. She wanted me to call her my whore.

It made me look bad, especially after she spanked me with her whip. She's furious with me. She says I took too long to get here, that I've been a coward. She says I took too long to realize that I deserve such a whipping. That I was such a coward. Well, well. I guess the old ways come back to her, in a big, throbbing heap. I feel like I'm going to burst with the pain. I almost faint when I realize I don't have the whip with me. Lucky me, I open my mouth and take the whip like a man. As the old whip makes contact with my throbbing labia, I open my eyes and see my cunt, still slick and shiny from the spanking. My pussy is clearly a sight to behold. And as the old whip leaves a small trail of bleeding across my thighs, I almost cry out. I want to scream. But I swallow that groan, that promise, that promise. I lie here, cuffed, on the large sheet of medical grade foam.

My hands and feet are cuffed too. I can't move, I can't scream, I can't move my legs. All the devices are tucked into neat neat little bundles on the bed. All the clips are mounted on the walls or attached to the bed frames. I can't move my arms or hands. Not until she says OK. I can scream, but it comes out in a baby's voice. All the blood that went into making that old whip has dried and licked out on my skin. It stings and beats in my ears. She says she never stopped making me cry. Because when she'd finished she rolled me onto my side and hugged me. I had tears in my eyes. I didn't scream. She didn't stop. She didn't stop until she saw I could take no more. She pulled out of my ass. She held me like she was in a blanket..

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