She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him.The floor vibrated with the fall of his steps. Sh
She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him.The floor vibrated with the fall of his steps. She held her breath fearfully as he came closer and moved between her legs. Sliding two fingers between her cheeks, he pried her open, exposing her dirty, secret hole. For a long, shameful minute, he contemplated the tiny prize, unseen by anyone since the last loving diaper of her childhood. Her tears dripped underneath the floor. When he placed one callused fingertip atop the pink dimple, gently pressing and slightly prodding, she exploded with a choking sob, coughing and choking on her own saliva and panic. After spitting on his target, he swiftly leaned forward and began to force his cock into her body. Unable to kick or move or close her legs, she could only scream below the floor, helplessly flapping her arms on the concrete, as he pushed firmly inside her tiny hole, ripping her open with his bulky weapon. She screamed and screamed, aghast at the pain and shame of the man entering her body, Of him forcing her head beneath the floor, locking away her humanity - and making her personal, unsanitary hole his own. He used her not as a person - meeting her eyes with an unabashed glare, noting her agonized tears as he harmed her - but as an object, as his property. All inconvenient human parts were hidden away, leaving the wee pink anus to be forcibly impaled and distended, unrelentingly stabbed and pounded, brutalized for his pleasure. Her muffled shrieks rose up through the floor. He didn’t hear it as the laments of a tortured girl, but as a beautiful musical accompaniment, a song keeping time as he played his captive instrument. -- source link