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#BDSM #Mature #Zoophilia
By HanSolo
Weeks had passed since that life-altering encounter in the stable with Duke. I, Jane, the once-straight-laced librarian, had been living with the memories, the sensations, the confusion. My body had changed, my desires had awakened, and the estate at Willowbrook was no longer just a quiet retreat; it was a Pandora’s box of secrets and sensations.
I couldn’t stay away from the stable, from Duke, from that machine. There was a draw, a magnetic pull to understand more about Marjorie, the mysterious woman who had designed such an apparatus. I started digging, finding old diaries, scribbled notes, and sketches hidden in the depths of the manor. Marjorie was more than just an eccentric; she was a pioneer of pleasure, an artist of the flesh who had explored boundaries beyond the conventional.
One particularly stifling afternoon, I found a more detailed blueprint of the machine, labeled not just as a “stretching device” but as “Marjorie’s Pleasure Harness.” There were notes on how to adjust it for different experiences, and one section caught my eye: “The Sensory Overload Sequence.”
I knew I should’ve walked away, should’ve burned the damn thing, but the curiosity, the thrill of the forbidden, it was intoxicating. I dressed in a loose, flowing gown this time, my skin prickling with anticipation. I set up the machine according to Marjorie’s notes, adjusting levers and dials I hadn’t noticed before. The timer was now set for 45 minutes, and I knew this was going to be different.
With the restraints in place, I felt the familiar click, the embrace of the machine. Duke, as if sensing the setup, wandered over, his eyes almost knowing. This time, I whispered to him, “What else did she teach you?” My voice was a mix of fear and excitement.
The machine whirred to life, not just holding me but vibrating in waves, targeting every nerve ending. Duke mounted with the same precision, but this time, the machine was guiding him, moving him in sync with its vibrations. “Oh, fuck,” I gasped, the sensations already overwhelming, my body betraying me once again.
Duke’s cock entered, but now there was a rhythm, the machine ensuring every thrust was met with a pulse of vibration against my clit, inside me, even against my nipples through the thin fabric of my dress. “Marjorie, what have you done?” I moaned, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.
The sequence was designed for sensory overload, and it was working. Each thrust from Duke was met with a symphony of vibrations, pushing me through one orgasm into another without pause. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” was all I could manage, my mind lost to the waves of pleasure.
After what felt like an eternity of continuous climax, the machine introduced a new element – small, mechanical arms that began to tease my breasts, my thighs, everywhere, turning my body into an instrument of pleasure. “Oh, God, yes,” I cried out, my voice hoarse, my body no longer mine but a vessel for this relentless ecstasy.
Duke, guided by the machine, seemed to sense my surrender, his movements becoming more deliberate, his cock swelling inside me, each thrust deeper than the last. The machine’s programming was clear now; it was designed to escalate pleasure until it was indistinguishable from madness.
As the timer ticked down, the sensations reached a crescendo. Duke’s movements became urgent, his ejaculation a hot flood inside me, triggering my final, most intense orgasm yet. “Fuck, yes!” I screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of the stable, my body shuddering uncontrollably, my mind barely clinging to reality.
When the timer finally beeped, releasing me, I collapsed, my body limp, my mind reeling from the experience. Duke stepped back, his part in this bizarre ritual complete, leaving me to gather myself in the aftermath.
I lay there, panting, my dress in disarray, my body still quivering. The revelations of Marjorie’s work were more than I had bargained for. This wasn’t just about pleasure; it was about control, about pushing boundaries, about exploring the darkest corners of desire.
I knew then that I was forever changed, not just by what had happened, but by what I had discovered. The estate, Duke, the machine – they were all part of a legacy I was now a guardian of. I whispered to myself, “Marjorie, you mad, brilliant woman,” understanding that I was now part of her story, her experiment in human desire.
With a newfound resolve, I decided I would delve deeper into her world, perhaps even continue her work. But for now, I needed time to process what I had become – a woman who had tasted the forbidden fruit and found it irresistibly sweet
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By HanSolo
#BDSM #Mature #Zoophilia
