The master's real control this day was to make me walk on a treadmill whilst wearing ballet heels. My hands were fastened behind my back and I was hung up. I could solely entreat for lenience on the treadmill.
Ballet heels are totally the almost any painful shoes... I spent countless hours practicing. The merely options were standing, squatting, or even worse, using an air chair. If I fell, I'd be whipped.
Ordinary domestic services turned into hell. My in natures garb, aching cookie was so sensitive… and in the end, this chab merely teased me to the edge as a “reward.”
I was manacled in metal handcuffs, wrists and ankles locked to a iron bar. My slit lips were clamped with a cold-blooded screw-tightened set, every twist digging sharper into me.
The lower part is designed to belt a sextoy tightly against my vagina. Once it was turned on, I couldn’t even walk straight… each step shoved me closer to climax. This outfit is insane… it made me so powerless and overwhelmed.