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It gets more and more difficult to get through the day. Your ankles will be bolted to your wrists. Metal squeezes your tits. The collar. The gag. All it does is hurt. Not a lot. It is enough to cause problems in your daily life, including breathing. It is all in your head. It’s possible to take another minute. Perhaps two. Just when you feel like giving up, PD appears. A pile of paddles and canes is laid at your feet by PD. You realize that nothing is worse than being stuck in the metal, which rubs, squeezes, and presses. Anything. It is obvious that the situation will get worse. But you don’t care. This is why even pain can be better. You have to get PD. He wants everything to be exactly as he intended. He takes the time to oil your feet and rubs it between each of his toes. It is amazing to feel his touch. Marvelous. He said, “Let me know when I should hit you.” He will make you feel miserable. He pokes under your toenails with a skewer. He lightens a torch, and heats your bottoms. It is a profound feeling of helplessness. This is just the beginning. It’s just the beginning of a long period of discomfort that is marked by bright moments and intense pain. The things he does become more dreamlike as time goes by. You can feel his hands on your palms as he bends your arms backwards. As he canes the meaty portion of your hand, it becomes a strange and wonderful room. You don’t want to see him leave. It’s not your place to be by yourself. A 4X4 yoke is fastened to your neck and wrists, while you stand. The metal pipe gag pulls your tongue forwards and downwards, opening your mouth. Your breath dries your upper palette. It is impossible to swallow and wet your lips. Belt of metal chastity. Ankle spreader. All things are very heavy. It can cause headaches. It’s bad. It’s really bad. Now, you’re not even alive. You are nothing but this weight and this pain. This is not who you are anymore. Maybe that is exactly what you wanted.
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