The repetitive squeak of metal against metal. She swings, strapped onto a steel grate that's hanging mid-air, parallel to the floor. Her neck and torso are strapped tight. Her lower legs and arms have been pulled through the grate, folded backwards, and fixed in place. Mr. Pogo slips into her cunt, fucking her. Then in her mouth. The grate, perfectly balanced, pivots easily. Her head angles downward, her mouth at cock height.
A flogger strikes her breasts, giving them a blush. The whip that slaps her pussy colors her labia rosy. He sits in front of her face. Manipulating first one hole, then the other. It doesn't take long. She comes quickly, happy.
Wooden stocks weigh on her neck and wrists. She sits on a bed of spikes. He gets hard when he sees tears run down her cheeks. Through all the torment she laughs. But after she comes, when she can't do what he wants, she tears up.
Doused in excess, her balance centers upon one point only. Small effort sets her in motion, back and forth, swinging.