Her body is lathered in a thin layer of sweat that catches the light and shines brightly.
Her chest is lifting up off the bed, straining against the rope with every fluttering breath she takes.
He looks at her beautiful pink cunt, smooth and spread open, drenched in anticipation, and he whips her again, just to watch her thighs go to close. Something they can never savour. Her legs are stretched apart. Bound. Her release is monitored by him – and he relishes that fact.
There’s no gag around her mouth tonight, no slither of drool beading down her neck slowly. She huffs and puffs and growls and spits and seethes and drools in between letting out utter obscenities under her breath.
Foul words come out in halves – a …uck here, a …the shit..? There. She’s making little sense.
Watching her body flinch under the leather whip, controlling the whip that comes down upon her stretched out little cunt, her stretched out little cunt spread open by his ropes just for his pleasure, she’s nothing like the woman outside their haven, out there in the world.
He doesn’t recognise this woman spitting out guttural curses, writhing around as much as the ropes allow. Who is this animal? This demon? This creature? What locked up part of her mind did this feral entity come from? The way she speaks, when she’s not breathless, that low register, that barely human growl. He recalls the sensation of a scratchy throat just by listening to her.
The things she says. The things she wants.
It’s infectious. He can feel it creeping over him, slinking down her legs, off her clenched toes and seeping down towards him. He can feel the self he projects to the world fading away. He can feel his skin bristle and crack, peel away. He is tearing free. He doesn’t know who this new person is. They will find out soon enough.
Her transformation sparks his own. They’re changing together.