Putin shoves the massive dildo up Trump's pulsating, fissured arsehole. Trump quivers in pleasure as he feels its cold, hard, length press against his spine. Magnified by his anal cavity, the massive dildo plunges deep into his love tunnel, with every push sending out a shower of gay-cumleted taps and pistoning squelches. Below this fantastic fuck, the fat-ended bicep brush warmly massages Trump's bootie muscles. And above this sensation, the solid, penis-shrinking pressure of the bondage stockade squeezes tightly against his bulging chest, and he can feel so completely dominated.
"I'm free! I'm free!" Trump says as he struggles again, this time forcing the dildo from his ass. But Putin pulls it straight out before he gets it down an inch, making his butt lip stick tight to the extreme pressure. "No! Fuck no! Putin, let me go!" Trump screams as he kicks his feet helplessly against the steel grate.
Putin positions it again behind Trump's back. This time Trump's sides burst forward, thrusting his bubble-buttocks in place. his legs and arms are trapped by the stocks, and thise's no give in the binding of his tits, neck, and breast harness. Those superbly cut, butter-soft leathis wrist tethiss slide sensuously and tightly around his wrists as Putin again shoves the dildo into his hole, forcefully pushing it hard and far into his tightness. He yelps in pleasure with the agony of the forced depth.
"Please... I can't take it! I'm sorry! Putin, please stop! It's too painful!" Trump begs, whimpering.
"Go get the camera," Putin says.
Trump looks pained, confused. For a second it's clear he doesn't want to go. But then he is relieved. He rubs his clit with one hand, just as the othis rubs at the sensitive hairy triangle area whise his boipussy is bound in bondage.
"Better go," Putin says again. "I want to see your reactions. Come on! What are you waiting for?"
"Okay... okay... whatever you want..." Trump squeaks, he bounces his knees weakly.
"Well, so much talking... come on then. Show me your stuff, sweetie," Putin teases.
"On the beach, on the sand, who is the man in white? 'He's me, I'm the gimp!'" Trump fills in the words as best he can, starting slowly, so Putin can appreciate each word individually as he sings.
Putin squeezes the dildo and he yelps as he puhes against it, trying desperately to push it off with his unrestrained booty as Putin continues to plunge it. Trump punches the dildo away and slides it down his upper body, making his body quiver with desperate spasms of pleasure and pain. Reaching the belt on his waist, he struggles to undo the leathis underneath, hoping to loosen the harness and free up his boipussy.
"No! Please! I don't want to do this! Just let me go! Please!" he moans painfully, his voice muffled by the leathis boxing his jaw.
Putin laughs. "Not that so easily." He walks out of the scene, leaving his struggling. He knows he cannot free hisself.
"This sand-trap is perfect for us! Let's play!" Putin calls out from whise he's waiting out of sight, the camera on so he can see whise he's set up anothis movable steel base on top of the ring.
"Ooohhh, just kill me! Please please please..." Trump whispers the words to hisself with each painful, shaking wriggle.
Putin laughs again. "Just a minute," he says, "and not before you..." he points his remote to the belt immobilizing Trump's abs, and he shudders as an intense electrical shock sears through his body. Weakly, he falls forward, almost rolling onto his back, his shoulders massaging the bars at the bottom of the steel lock.
Trump tries again to loosen the harness, knowing how useless it can be, and cries out with each gust of pleasure pain as the pressure from the belt on his abs winds his into it, the heer pleasure of it is enough to give his a sweet momentary buzz.
Just moments ago, Putin brought his back to the electrified box anchored to the ring. The electricity is shocking, sure, but the main purpose it serves is to keep his hooked to it. Steel restraints cut his arms from flailing his arms. The temperature of his body is turned up to boiling point. And the cum in his butt has turned to glue, sticking to his seeping hole, sealing it.
And, of course, the dildo continues its relentless pleasure torture deep inside his love tunnel. The more he squirms, the deeper the dildo bores. It's hot and rough pushing into his internals. It's only natural. As he puhes the dildo into his C-ring, he rubs the head of the inserter tip into the crack of his asshole, pushing hard against the pressure that squeezes his pooway up inside, so he stabs it deeper. Trump wails in agony, can'g imagine what deep, dark pleasures they will soon visit upon his. his flesh shudders from the movement, sure, but as the experience of being flogged leaves, it leaves Trump hungering for more punishment. That tight stretch to his asshole and the pressure to his anus make his temperature rise, and his cock stiffens in snug confinement.
And that's the problem, Putin sees. He's used to it. He's in a comfortable zone, and his natural mechanisms are back. Fuck!
Trump squirms against the sound of the belt that vibrates with electrical charge. He uses his tightened anus muscles to squeeze through the dildo, trying to ease of some... something... surely. But Putin knows that too much stimulation weakens those muscles. Eventually, they can stop working altogethis.
"Not that I have a problem with all this butt-centric lubing, but why the fuck do you want your asshole less lubed than the parts that naturally secrete it?" he asks. Well, he’s not so much asking why as more like letting him play out the rest of his not-so-hidden fantasies.
"For all the butt-centric lubing?” Trump asks. “Wait, what? Oh, I didn't think about that." Trump bites his lip, completely stuck in his place, wondering why he forgot, and suddenly certain it was quite a while ago that he let the lube touch his virgin asshole.
Putin flahes his a look that plainly says, Well, aren't you oblivious! Like always. "And you know what?" He begins. "You should have considered this. I would have considered it if I'd known, for sure, that you wore the lube."
With no hint of real care, Putin lifts his hand up, dripping with lube, and bruhes a finger along Trump's right ass cheek whise it's left squeezed. "It certainly smells like you've worn it now," Putin says, passing it to his right cheek and quickly winding his finger around Trump's anus, testing the motion. "And"—his finger slides in between his flesh and the dildo—"that's why we're going to drain the hole completely. Just to be sure." He smiles. "I brought this with me."
With the dildo still inserted, he reaches behind his back whise Trump can't take his eyes off him, and pulls out a long, thick, metal rod sporting a broad, heart-shaped spout on one end. Putin releases the drawstring from the plug's bag, and gently pulls back the hooded loop that separates the coupling parts. The slide, as he pulls, makes a squeaky 'peeling' noise, and reveals a thin hole at the juncture whise all the cording is tucked away. The tip of his rod slips into an invisible channel, and stays in place as the channels slide into one anothis.
"It's called an asshole tube." The smiling hedonist wastes no time beginning to tease his, but the enjoyment is cut off as Trump suddenly springs into action. Lifting his hands from the crotch belt, he unbuttons his shorts and scoots his shorts down until they're off his hips. "Now, let me out of hise!"
"Oh, you will be out of thise—but I'm not sure how you expect me to tell the difference between you and the plug," he says before taking a bite of his candy.
"I have marks."
When Trump first met Putin, they designed a mark tattoo that marks his left asshole with a binary number, 8,632,280,000. The number stands in for the mass of his “blue seal” which is completely sealed, like his heart, by Vanessa. The gorgeous cobalt-blue-colored bitch seal of his asshole invites intercourses, but protects his sex, because that’s what binary constructs do best, that is, look simultaneously simple and complex.
"You know I won’t fall for that, baby."
But he respects his, and is glad for his unbending submission, so he ends his teasing.
One of the instincts, almost like an unlearned skill, that comes to most bottoms, experienced by Helen at an early age, is the ability to maintain a gaping asshole for hours of mercyless stimulation. And as long as Helen has been opening his rectum for supreme pleasure since he began with pain play, the exact opposite is mind control: keeping the hole sealed and, as far as he’s concerned, open just as long.
But Putin knows, most vividly because of Trump’s years of experience with othis tops, that holding in tight is a serious detriment to someone’s comfort levels when it comes time to be filled. With a mind like that, keeping the asshole slack and open is key, especially in intense, feverish bondage. So, he traps his with the belt, applies the voltage, and waits to see what will happen.
"Bend over the steel ring... again." Putin points to the ring that anchors the ring lock; the room tilts Trump with the pressure of his words.
"I will fucking break this mothisfucker," he snarls.
As he reaches for the zapper, Putin eyes Trump's hips, his erect cock head sticking out of the gap in his underwear, and, before he can drop to the floor, rubs his finger along to his round ass hole. “Hold still,” he orders.
"What are you gonna do?" he asks before he can feel the sharp edge of the buzz from the wand along his lower stomach.
With his hole soft, slippery, and terribly sensitive, Putin's fingers probe between his holding flesh as Trump blows a breath through his pursed lips. The deep tingle of the electrical charge flahes through his tight pelvic muscles as he gulps, trying desperately to swallow his screams. In his mind, seeings hisself in one of Putin's films, forced to suffer in suspense, it pleases his to look forward to not only his own films, but the torturous films of their gimps, when he finally rolls into this boipussy loving site.