This one should be called, "How to Get Kicked Out of the Dungeon." We very casually strap this fat fuck onto the saw with him wiggling around like a stuck pig, desperate for but crying over the pain. This is his fantasy: To be by Strict Miss Kayla , who he's idolized and drooled over from afar for many years. This is his big chance, but he gets so overwhelmed that he can't handle it and begs us to stop. We don't.
We tie him rather loosely to the sawhorse, because We love the way he wiggles with each SWAT of the floggers (leather braided and tire rubber). We beat...

This one should be called, "How to Get Kicked Out of the Dungeon." We very casually strap this fat fuck onto the saw with him wiggling around like a stuck pig, desperate for but crying over the pain. This is his fantasy: To be by Strict Miss Kayla , who he's idolized and drooled over from afar for many years. This is his big chance, but he gets so overwhelmed that he can't handle it and begs us to stop. We don't.
We tie him rather loosely to the sawhorse, because We love the way he wiggles with each SWAT of the floggers (leather braided and tire rubber). We beat him with various implements meant to leave beautiful marks, shove ice cubes up his anus, hold his head down for leverage, scratch him with our nails, and leave him looking like a gang of motorcycles ran over his ass and back. We are sexy panthers prowling our prey, looking perfectly poised and stunning, even as he drips sweat, drool, and red fluids.
We are very cool and collected, enjoying every blow and laughing at this idiot's complete humiliation. Then We vow that he will never, ever, ever get this chance again: this random, stupid blob of purple flesh is never coming back again.

Featuring Strict Miss Kayla

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