He would always bind her, tie her spread eagle between 2 trees, His cock dripping with poison right before thrusting it into her mouth, powerful and veined, a poison serpent creeping in, she could barely get him in as he forced himself down her throat. He would always look down at her, some evil smile plastered on his face and would say, "you want one thing, to be defiled; to be debased into some submissive creature just for me." She would wake up gagging, gagging not only at the poison being spewed down her throat, but at his words. Never! Not her. She was far too independent to be some object of lust for a man to find his pleasure in.She would always find solace in her art after her unnerving dreams. Her advocation was pottery and sculpting, her vocation was a sales rep. She went into her studio and began carving into a block of clay. It always amazed her, empowered her that she could create beauty from some mundane lump, could transform it ugly and plain into something magnificent. I wished I could have done something to stop it but I was immobile. We'd been told the Japs were not allowed to draw blood but I wondered how closely they would keep to that promise. I couldn't see Jim's back but could well imagine it oozing blood. Fortunately my imagination was wrong. The welts were deep and fiery but the skin was not broken. Soushi let forth with her whip high across Jim's chest. He yelled at the top of his voice. I could hardly see for crying. The others were crying too. Again the cat lashed Jim's back followed by Soushi's whip catching his nipples. Jim was screaming himself hoarse now and the whips fell with perhaps ten seconds between the strokes. Finally Shortie put the cat down, unzipped his trousers and pulled out a rather small prick. Without any lubrication, he forced it in Jim's backside and started fucking hard and torturing his arse still further. Soushi now aimed her whip at his prick. "Maybe if it swells big, I let you fuck big tits later," she told.
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