Perhaps that is the manner in which lady saves herself. Because all this cutie senses outside of herself is nothingness. So cutie goes to him. His use of her makes her solid, fierce, like bodies are intended to be intense, and how souls contain infinite mass. His evil management of her breasts encourages her out of her whimsical sleep. Ache is a voice of the spirit excited itself. Cords grow luminous in a mind gone dim. Beating rectifies balance, any strike conspicuous, bright points like Christmas lights strung ’bout her limbs. Lad decorates her like a tree. Lad dangles her from her stretched, aching breasts as although lady is a dark angel. Dude walls her into her soft, supple flesh and tastes her like a vintner tests wine. Made manifest on the eve of her destruction, the birthing of her body is more about difficulty than ease. And in her weightless condition of diseased dreams, female must be brought back to herself by the use of extremes. Cords and straps binding her ankles, knees, wrists, arms, and neck are neither reality nor sleep. The prying open of her mouth with hooks and the compression of her breasts between metallic rungs, anchor her in the realm of the living because of dread and excitement, the electricities of skin.
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Duration: 1:11:09
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