1. Memento Mori


    Date: 8/7/2015, Categories: BDSM, First Time, Taboo, Author: spermanator4, Rating: , Source: xHamster

    outside. I was just --&#034 An exquisite young specimen? I start to question his motives. Is this man a homosexual? I don't want to lead him on. However, I'd prefer that to going out with that storm of punches and kicks outside. &#034Hiding.&#034 &#034...Yes.&#034 I cannot tell a lie. &#034Well then let me invite you in. I can not very well just leave you out here in good conscience, now can I?&#034 In good conscience. Is that really what he means? Or does he just want me in bed with him? Am I getting myself into something I can't get myself out of? Trust. Have trust. The body goes where the head looks, so look on the bright side. &#034Thank you very much.&#034 Cordiality seems the best policy. Don't upset him, but keep him at a distance. He holds the door as I walk in to his house, an orgo-building with its characteristic organic sheen. &#034Let me pour you a cup of tea,&#034 says the older man, who then walks into what I take to be the kitchen. While he is in the kitchen, I hear a sound coming from the door adjacent me. It sounds similar to the sound of cats fighting. I glance toward the kitchen. He's humming while he makes the tea. I get up and walk toward the door with the sounds. I open it a little. My curiosity is getting the best of me when --. I see an arm tied up to the wall. Panic stings my mind like an electric spiderweb. Before I can see any more I hear the man return from the kitchen. I feel a slight pressure on my neck. ... I wake up. I can't move my hands. I ...
    struggle. I can't move my legs either. I open my eyes and see the man who let me in sitting on a chair in front of me. He has a pleased look on his face, like &#034Oh, you've woken up!&#034 I look to my right. I see the man whose arm I saw through the door before. He is all sliced up, from head to toe, a bucket below him to catch the pooling bl**d dripping off him. Looking forward again, I see the man approaching me, razor blade in hand. His eyes shine. He cuts my forehead. I can handle the sharp pain as it tears my flesh, but the warm feeling of bl**d dripping down makes me nautious. I'm not capable of handling this. And yet, here I am... I keep staring at his teeth. He has a smile, like he's doing me a favor in torturing me, and he has this really rather beautiful smile with straight white teeth, that in another situation would be charming but are instead the very definition of menacing. Who - no, what - is this monster. What kind of creature could do this to another creature - not a lion or something that does it instinctually and doesn't know better - but something that knows full well what it's doing and does it anyway. And with such alacrity. &#034Why? Why are you doing this? Please. I did nothing to you. I'll help you, please. Please. I have many dolors.&#034 He smiles. &#034Help me?&#034 He stops cutting. &#034Help me what? Help me find my next meal?&#034 He points to the man on the wall next to me. &#034What could I possibly need your help with? I own you my lovely ...
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