captor who lays me out and ties me up in front of several cameras so he can set up a multi-angle livestream as he stretches my cunt out around the wide end of a baseball bat

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captor who lays me out and ties me up in front of several cameras so he can set up a multi-angle livestream as he stretches my cunt out around the wide end of a baseball bat

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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you drugging me and taking pictures of my sleeping body. uncovering it slowly, getting good shots of my innocent, relaxed face, my soft tits. spreading my legs to inspect my cunt, finding it wet enough to press a couple fingers inside. testing how deep my sleep is, appreciating the strength of the sleeping pill keeping me slack and unconscious. you finger me deep and slow, enjoying the wet sounds and my quiet grunts and little huffed breaths. the air hitching in my lungs is addictive, and you plunge your fingers deeply over and over to elicit those noises
pulling out your camera, you take pictures of my pretty cunt gripping your fingers while you adjust your hard dick in your pants. you use the wetness of my cunt to lube up my asshole, playing with the tight ring of muscle. you lose yourself for a while, stretching the hole gently, almost forgetting your camera entirely. it’s not until you’ve inserted a plug that you remember, snapping an image of the little jewel between my cheeks. you massage it with your middle finger, and the stimulation makes me moan into the pillows
at a certain point, you just can’t hold out anymore, and you pull out your cock and stroke it by my face, slicking the head with precum before sliding it along my parted lips. you groan and grip harder, cum dripping on my cheek before you force my jaw open and push it all the way into my throat. both hands grip my face as you fuck my mouth mercilessly, one thumb against my bottom lip to feel your wet dick slip in and out
leaving my room with a camera roll full of homemade porn you made without my knowledge
It took so much time and effort to stretch my pussy around your fist that even after you’ve made me come on it twice — screaming and shaking, clit rubbed raw, walls fluttering and clenching around the unyielding shape of your hand — you’re still not done with me.
I cry when you pull out of my cunt, tremble and sob as your fingers play with the rim of my gaping hole, pinching and stretching and fucking in so easily. You’re gonna keep me open, you tell me, and you shove a beer can into my cunt.
It hurts, but it’s also cool against my overheated flesh. I can feel the beer inside it sloshing around against the thin aluminum sides.
You pull up my briefs to keep it in place and help me stand. It’s painful, and I can’t walk without waddling around. It’s embarrassing enough with just you there. When your friends start to show up, I can barely meet their eyes.
You don’t need me to meet their eyes. You turn me around, bend me over whatever’s closest — the kitchen table, the arm of the sofa — pull down my pants and show them the can. They laugh, tapping the top of it, fucking it in and out of me in short, shallow thrusts. My cheeks burn. Tears well in my eyes.
When all of your friends have arrived, you take me out to the back patio, strip me down, and lay me out on the rough concrete. They tower over me, leering and laughing, drinks in their hands that I should have made but I couldn’t because my hands were so shaky and I could stand up straight enough to reach the liquor cabinet.
You’re here. Down on your knees with me. You push the beer can back inside me when my pussy tried to force it out. You laugh at me, too, but there’s pride in your eyes when you do. Then you start fucking me.
The beer sloshes inside the can as you shove it in me, pull it out, and shove it in again. It hurts. It feels so good. My body doesn’t know what to do with it.
Your friends are still talking and laughing. Somebody has a phone aimed at me, filming. Another crouches down and works my clit.
Tears spill over. You fuck me harder. Faster. I’m so wet, so needy. You fuck me with this huge thing and I can’t help but love it. Love you for hurting me so exquisitely.
When I feel my orgasm getting close, I ask, beg you to let me come. You smile, tip my hips up, and say, “yes.”
The new angle hurts more, feels strange, but doesn’t stop the pleasure.
When I come, you stop fucking me and I’m confused for a moment at what your hands are doing, until I hear hiss-pop of the can opening. Until I feel the explosion of it, beer and foam spilling over me, over you, over the ground. It’s like I’m squirting, like I’m ejaculating. It covers me. Spattering my chest, dripping from my thighs, pooling on my belly. I understand, now, why you brought us outside.
It smells like beer. Everything smells like beer. You lick some of it off me. You pull the can out and I scream and you pour the rest of the beer all over me, face and body and cunt.
You’re covered in it, too. My come.
You leave me there, lying in the puddle of it, your friends taking pictures and videos. The one whose fingers were on my clit has the same fingers in their mouth, tasting me.
My cunt feels so empty now. After being so full for so long, it gapes open like it was made to be stretched wide and needs something hard to clench around. Like it’s ruined. It will never be the same again.
I expected the hose, but not this gentle stream of it. The water is soothing as you clean me, your hands soft against my skin. You warn me before aiming the flow over my face.
i want to be fisted open after you’ve already fucked me for an hour or more. after you’ve already cum inside me as many times as you wanted. your dick is sated, and this is all just for play. because you can. because my pussy is yours. i want to scream and squirm, over sensitive and sore, as you work your knuckles, then your palm into my red, puffy, cum-filled cunt. i want you to not care if i come on your fist, only to care that you can make your fist fit. i want you to hold my legs down as you punch in and out of me until the widest part of your hand moves easily through my wrecked hole. i want you to tug and pinch at my swollen pussy lips, flick my throbbing clit, and fuck me with your fist until i’m sobbing and gaping wide. take a picture. jerk off into my ruined hole, and take another. play with my cunt like it’s just another stim toy as i writhe and beg and soak the sheets with my tears. see how wide you can spread your fingers inside me. then see if you can fit the other hand, too
Thinking about a captor who only ever wants to eat me out. He doesn’t touch me for any other reason — never beats me or puts his dick anywhere near my holes. He just keeps me naked, drugged, and available to him. The food he gives me is chosen to alter my taste as he desires.
By a week or two in, he spread me out over every possible surface in his house, bent me over to eat me out from behind, tied me up in difficult positions so he can hear me scream as I come. And that’s all he asks of me: to let myself react. He’s taken such good care of me, and he doesn’t hurt me like others might, doesn’t fuck me for his own pleasure, or lend me out to his friends. He just wants to taste my pleasure, to hear it and feel it and see it.
He’s angry when I don’t come, and even though I cry and apologize, he leaves me alone in my crate for days. Then he’s all soft and sorry and he eats me out a dozen times in five hours.
Sometimes he uses his fingers or toys, but always tongue. Always his mouth on me. And he films it every time. Takes pictures before and after, too. My pussy lips red and swollen dripping with his saliva and my arousal.
Very occasionally, he sits me down in the corner of a room as he takes out the pictures, plays the videos on a massive flatscreen, and jerks himself off. “This is what you do to me,” he says as he comes again and again to the sounds and the images. I’m so wet by the time he’s done and he lays me out on top of the photographs, spreads my legs, grabs a camera, a makes me come on his tongue once more.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
My owner runs a weekly poll on my cam channel, a list of household items. I’m allowed to see the list, but not to see the results of the poll. Paid subscribers vote, and at the end of seven days, my owner sets up a live show.
I’m blindfolded and walked into the room that is our studio. I know the setup is usually three cameras and a mic wherever my head will be. Sometimes I’m laid out on my back, knees spread wide. Other times ass up face down for so long my thighs tremble. One time I was bent over a desk, but I assume that was thematic to match the curved-body stapler I was fucked with.
The objects are always safe, like the lightbulb replica made of play-safe glass, and the rolling pin which had been stainless steel rather than the old wooden one in the kitchen.
The filming has already started whenever we enter the room, and the chat ping ping pings away. Cash machine sounds as tips roll in, the bell chime for new subscribers. My owner responds to the comments, sometimes reading them out to me while my cunt pulses, drips, stretches.
I’m allowed to try and guess what the object is, but so often they all feel the same: smooth, cold, hard, vaguely cylindrical. The egg beater had been pretty easy though.
When whatever it is has been fucked all the way in, my owner makes me come on it, fucking it in and out, circling my clit, helping me along with a vibrator. Whatever it takes to make me clench down on this hard, unforgiving object, the thing shoved into my cunt like it’s the only thing my cunt is good for.
The comments always come faster the closer I get. The tips, too. Sometimes my owner reads them out, sometimes not. But I always come.
At the end, my blindfold comes off and I watch the bottle or utensil or tool as it slides from my pussy. I watch the cameras click off one by one. I watch my owner clean my juices off the handle or body, and then that thing, whatever it is, takes its place back in our home.
And every time I use it, I remember what it felt like, and my pussy clenches again.
captor who films my face as he violates me, records my voice as he makes me cum and cry, and posts it all online with my missing persons poster as the thumbnail and the tag #.proofoflife