Visualizing the upcoming wrestling match, I would craft a methodical approach to ensure your excruciating downfall. The spandex trunks clinging to my body would serve as a silent threat, hinting at the raw power and control I possess. The headscissor and sleeper holds are my preferred tools of torment, applied with a sadistic, deliberate slowness that amplifies your agony.
My headscissor would begin as a gentle embrace around your neck, but gradually morph into a vice-like grip, crushing your windpipe and filling your vision with a haunting darkness. The bulge in my trunks would grow as I revel in the power I wield over you, a testament to the brutal force applied. Meanwhile, your body would contort in a desperate attempt to break free, your ass clenching in anticipation of the next punishing move.
The figure four headscissor would follow, a twisted delight that combines the torment of the headscissor with the painful stretch of a figure four. This intricate hold would leave your body trembling, your will to resist fading as the seconds crawl by. Each squeeze would be more vicious than the last, the pressure building until you're on the edge of consciousness.
Sadistic intentions would drive every action as I continue to manipulate your body. The bulge in my spandex trunks would be impossible to ignore, a symbol of the brutal dominance I exert over you. My moves would be slow and deliberate, drawing out every ounce of suffering, ensuring you're fully aware of the pain you're enduring.
Your struggles would be futile against the relentless onslaught of my scissor locks. Whether it's your head trapped in the vice-like grip or your torso stretched by my legs, the message would be clear: you are at my mercy. The bulge in my trunks would serve as a constant reminder of the power dynamic at play, a silent declaration of victory.
The match would unfold like a tragic ballet, a dance of pain and submission. You would fight valiantly, but my sadistic determination would wear you down, leaving your body a crumpled mess beneath me. The spandex trunks would cling to my sweat-slicked skin as I maintain the holds, my muscles flexing with the effort of dominating you.
As the end nears, your body would beg for relief, your ass wiggling in a final attempt to escape. But the inevitable would come, your resistance shattered, and you would succumb to the darkness. The match would be a testament to my sadistic brilliance, a slow and brutal demonstration of power that you would never forget.
TX bull (21 )
23 dias atrásI know I would love to grip Vic in the same fashion. 😈
phillip171 (3)
23 dias atrás(em resposta à...)
what is a grip Vic
bigt730 (13 )
23 dias atrásVisualizing the upcoming wrestling match, I would craft a methodical approach to ensure your excruciating downfall. The spandex trunks clinging to my body would serve as a silent threat, hinting at the raw power and control I possess. The headscissor and sleeper holds are my preferred tools of torment, applied with a sadistic, deliberate slowness that amplifies your agony.
My headscissor would begin as a gentle embrace around your neck, but gradually morph into a vice-like grip, crushing your windpipe and filling your vision with a haunting darkness. The bulge in my trunks would grow as I revel in the power I wield over you, a testament to the brutal force applied. Meanwhile, your body would contort in a desperate attempt to break free, your ass clenching in anticipation of the next punishing move.
The figure four headscissor would follow, a twisted delight that combines the torment of the headscissor with the painful stretch of a figure four. This intricate hold would leave your body trembling, your will to resist fading as the seconds crawl by. Each squeeze would be more vicious than the last, the pressure building until you're on the edge of consciousness.
Sadistic intentions would drive every action as I continue to manipulate your body. The bulge in my spandex trunks would be impossible to ignore, a symbol of the brutal dominance I exert over you. My moves would be slow and deliberate, drawing out every ounce of suffering, ensuring you're fully aware of the pain you're enduring.
Your struggles would be futile against the relentless onslaught of my scissor locks. Whether it's your head trapped in the vice-like grip or your torso stretched by my legs, the message would be clear: you are at my mercy. The bulge in my trunks would serve as a constant reminder of the power dynamic at play, a silent declaration of victory.
The match would unfold like a tragic ballet, a dance of pain and submission. You would fight valiantly, but my sadistic determination would wear you down, leaving your body a crumpled mess beneath me. The spandex trunks would cling to my sweat-slicked skin as I maintain the holds, my muscles flexing with the effort of dominating you.
As the end nears, your body would beg for relief, your ass wiggling in a final attempt to escape. But the inevitable would come, your resistance shattered, and you would succumb to the darkness. The match would be a testament to my sadistic brilliance, a slow and brutal demonstration of power that you would never forget.
WrestlerVic (11 )
22 dias atrás(em resposta à...)
Woof! I need to print that out and read it every night before bed. Thank you!
Shadow Knight (77 )
21 dias atrásSleeper/body scissors combo