Covid Sucks And More
- 3 years ago
- 10
- 0
By Covid Caged. free porn video
Dedicated to all the submissive kinky ladies that are suck with out a outlet for their desires.
Her home has become a box. A box that hasn't been opened for far too long. Sure there are holes to look out. Brief reprieves. From time to time the lid will lift just long enough to get a glimpse of the outside but the air gets stagnant. She longs for the days that past. The ones when she could find that release. A way to scratch that abominable itch that gnaws at her sanity. She needs that release. That euphoric rush that comes from the playtime that has evaporated and left her marooned on this island of solitude.
This hell of forced isolation was not that bad at first. There were things that needed to get caught up on. Things that had been put off but for the lack of time, supposedly... books to read, movies to watch, projects to finish. This would be productive! It will be nice to have some "me" time her mind lies to her. It will only be a few weeks! Yes at the beginning it was palatable. Maybe even enjoyable? But that was just a wisp of wishful thinking. Yes, she did get a few things done, a couple of books read, a movie or two watched. But as those projects started to come to there completion,the drudgery of it all came into being. Her mind started to wander to those dark places she loathed to visit. Destinations better left off the itinerary. The plains of depression, wind swept and cold. The mountains of self shame with its burning peaks of introspection and desolate valleys of inadequacy. The mire of regret, a fetid, rotting bog of presumed failures and missteps. No those places are better off left untread. That won't do. The gloom that seeps into her prison from the outside world is more than enough.
In normal times an escape is easily arranged. A munch, play party, or a privet scene would lead her to better places. But those are not here now. Vanished, they had been exiled. It is simply not safe. It's not worth the risk, Not for a brief moment of excitement. Too many people she cares about would be put in harms way. This virus is noting to take lightly. It kills. Not everyone, some will barely know they have it. That's the worst of it you can't tell who is caring it. Avoiding it is the best bet. Social distancing and all. It sounds so simple. Stay home! Stay safe! But the temptation is there! This loneliness is crushing! The frustration is madding! She never would have imagined that the lack of human contact would have her aching so! What she'd give for a hug. A little cuddling?
Chatting and perving Fetlife helped... at the beginning. Keeping in contact with her playmates, scrutinizing profiles for potential new ones. Revisiting memories of past adventures. Pictures and videos sated her desires for a moment. Inspiring jaunts of fantasy, creating mental notes of things to experience once this is over. Yes, this helped... at the beginning.
She is at that place, the place where need and fantasy split. We all get there. Where fantasy and desire split and go separate ways. Giving way to a need for a physical connection. She craves the sharp, unyielding sting of the paddle as it compresses the curve of her ass. The whistle of a whip as it carves though the air and the crack as it reaches its terminus of her lush hind quarters. An all powerful urgency to hear a cane hiss its way to savage her form, incising those delectable lines that will remind her for days of the punishment she endured. Experiencing the agony of the cloverleafs pulling, encircling her nipples. The torment of them constricting more and more. Fear and anticipation of the ache that will come after they are removed as the blood rushes back to the apex of her breasts.That thuddy massage of a heavy flogger as it beats a steady cadence while her body gets pushed rhythmically onto the cross with each swing. The feeling of a Wartenburg pinwheel as it is ran from her ankle slowly up the back of her leg, the shivers its prickly travel sends as it excruciatingly chews its way past the back of her knee. The wheel crawling its way up to her inner thigh nettling its way around her mound.
She drifts to thoughts of a gripping hand reaching around her shoulder, alternating between soft caresses gently stroking her neck and and iron grip closing around her throat cutting of her life's breath as he holds her close to him. His other hand between her thighs. Fingers making slow circles on her sex. His teeth biting into her shoulder making his mark, claiming her for his own.
These are the things she is missing and so much more. But for the time she will make do with what ever self care that gets her though. She has her toys, her imagination, her memories, and the vastness of the internet to keep the fires from consuming her completely. She knows this damnable disease impose chastity won't last for ever. This will all come to an end. There will be times like this again. So she fitfully waits. Desperate for that touch. But confident in her inner strength to not give into that seductive temptation. And when this does end, that first partner had better be ready for the concussive force of her pent up passion. She will hold nothing back. Her needs WILL be sated...
Her home has become a box. A box that hasn't been opened for far too long. Sure there are holes to look out. Brief reprieves. From time to time the lid will lift just long enough to get a glimpse of the outside but the air gets stagnant. She longs for the days that past. The ones when she could find that release. A way to scratch that abominable itch that gnaws at her sanity. She needs that release. That euphoric rush that comes from the playtime that has evaporated and left her marooned on this island of solitude.
This hell of forced isolation was not that bad at first. There were things that needed to get caught up on. Things that had been put off but for the lack of time, supposedly... books to read, movies to watch, projects to finish. This would be productive! It will be nice to have some "me" time her mind lies to her. It will only be a few weeks! Yes at the beginning it was palatable. Maybe even enjoyable? But that was just a wisp of wishful thinking. Yes, she did get a few things done, a couple of books read, a movie or two watched. But as those projects started to come to there completion,the drudgery of it all came into being. Her mind started to wander to those dark places she loathed to visit. Destinations better left off the itinerary. The plains of depression, wind swept and cold. The mountains of self shame with its burning peaks of introspection and desolate valleys of inadequacy. The mire of regret, a fetid, rotting bog of presumed failures and missteps. No those places are better off left untread. That won't do. The gloom that seeps into her prison from the outside world is more than enough.
In normal times an escape is easily arranged. A munch, play party, or a privet scene would lead her to better places. But those are not here now. Vanished, they had been exiled. It is simply not safe. It's not worth the risk, Not for a brief moment of excitement. Too many people she cares about would be put in harms way. This virus is noting to take lightly. It kills. Not everyone, some will barely know they have it. That's the worst of it you can't tell who is caring it. Avoiding it is the best bet. Social distancing and all. It sounds so simple. Stay home! Stay safe! But the temptation is there! This loneliness is crushing! The frustration is madding! She never would have imagined that the lack of human contact would have her aching so! What she'd give for a hug. A little cuddling?
Chatting and perving Fetlife helped... at the beginning. Keeping in contact with her playmates, scrutinizing profiles for potential new ones. Revisiting memories of past adventures. Pictures and videos sated her desires for a moment. Inspiring jaunts of fantasy, creating mental notes of things to experience once this is over. Yes, this helped... at the beginning.
She is at that place, the place where need and fantasy split. We all get there. Where fantasy and desire split and go separate ways. Giving way to a need for a physical connection. She craves the sharp, unyielding sting of the paddle as it compresses the curve of her ass. The whistle of a whip as it carves though the air and the crack as it reaches its terminus of her lush hind quarters. An all powerful urgency to hear a cane hiss its way to savage her form, incising those delectable lines that will remind her for days of the punishment she endured. Experiencing the agony of the cloverleafs pulling, encircling her nipples. The torment of them constricting more and more. Fear and anticipation of the ache that will come after they are removed as the blood rushes back to the apex of her breasts.That thuddy massage of a heavy flogger as it beats a steady cadence while her body gets pushed rhythmically onto the cross with each swing. The feeling of a Wartenburg pinwheel as it is ran from her ankle slowly up the back of her leg, the shivers its prickly travel sends as it excruciatingly chews its way past the back of her knee. The wheel crawling its way up to her inner thigh nettling its way around her mound.
She drifts to thoughts of a gripping hand reaching around her shoulder, alternating between soft caresses gently stroking her neck and and iron grip closing around her throat cutting of her life's breath as he holds her close to him. His other hand between her thighs. Fingers making slow circles on her sex. His teeth biting into her shoulder making his mark, claiming her for his own.
These are the things she is missing and so much more. But for the time she will make do with what ever self care that gets her though. She has her toys, her imagination, her memories, and the vastness of the internet to keep the fires from consuming her completely. She knows this damnable disease impose chastity won't last for ever. This will all come to an end. There will be times like this again. So she fitfully waits. Desperate for that touch. But confident in her inner strength to not give into that seductive temptation. And when this does end, that first partner had better be ready for the concussive force of her pent up passion. She will hold nothing back. Her needs WILL be sated...
Mei
- 19.06.2022
- 24
- 0
COVID Quarantine With Uncle Mike
- 2 years ago
- 29
- 0
COVID Drives Workplace Change for the Wife Pt 1
- 2 years ago
- 15
- 0
