PD locks Sybil into a new chair-like gizmo, ballooning her breasts like he's hoping they'll pop. A metal tube locked into in her mouth makes her gag and dry heave, a thoroughly exhausting torment. Pussy whipping, orgasm, clit and breast torment. PD drives Sybil to the edge then tips her over, leaving her to cook. Beyond panic, she begs, she bargains. But PD wants everything, all of her. He delivers one, two, three strokes of a cane. Sybil breaks.
To cool her down, PD hoses her off, scrubbing hard with a bristle brush. You have the sense she's like glass now. Like you can see right through her. And that it won't take much, the smallest of things. And Sybil would suddenly shatter.
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