The Twisted Mind of Tina B

This blog is NSFW, and not for those under 18, or of a delicate moral nature. But if you like your bondage strict and your gags tight, cum on in! Read more of my hot bondage stories at SMASHWORDS - https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/tinab5885 and see my galleries on IMAGEFAP - https://www.imagefap.com/profile/TinaBtheAuthor.

These cute three guys at the club said they’d give me a good time if I’d go with them.

So of course I did.  Did I mention I’m a whore?

I stripped slowly, giving them a good show of twirling legs, wiggling ass and shaking boobs.  Dancing into their waiting hands, but then backing away, allowing them only a quick, teasing touch of everything I have to offer. They seemed to like it.

When I was done, they politely insisted that they “take care” of me.  Surprised, cause when do guys EVER think about pleasing ME, I let them hold me, one behind, one holding my thin little arms out in front - and the third guy binding my wrists slapping handcuffs around my wrists.  Manhandling my crying body over against the wall, they tied the cuffs to a rope and hauled my arms up overhead.  

They ordered me to spread my legs, but in my terror I clamped them together, already blubbering and pleading for them not to hurt me.

To my surprise, they promised not to, so I relaxed my legs enough for them to haul them wide apart and tie the ankles to some bolts in the floor - stretching my body out nakedly.

They were sort of right: they didn’t hurt me - at least not at first.

They began by working my nipples and clit.  Not painfully, but on and on like they were machines.  At first, it felt good, all my stuff swelling with blood and feelings, stiffening under their fingers like the little slut that I am.  I came, embarrassingly.  Then again.  And again, my heaving body dangling from the ropes.

And then it began to feel not so good.  To feel sore, to feel used, beaten, tortured.

Until my body was spasming and jerking against the restraints like a mad thing, tears running down my cheeks, squealing nonsense.  My body hanging there like a side of beef, jerking and flopping helplessly as they began taking their pants off . . .

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