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Literature Text
Beneath her
A smile hidden from the world
Beneath her
A girl under stress
Beneath her
A world of many wonderful desires
Beneath her
A grief filled with darkness
Beneath her
Worries of insecurities
Beneath her
A lie of happiness
Beneath her
No one listened
Beneath her
anger flooded her face
Beneath her
Realization of what must come
Beneath her
A pile of dirt
Beneath her
Bugs who flow through soil
Above her
A grave filled of fakeness
A smile hidden from the world
Beneath her
A girl under stress
Beneath her
A world of many wonderful desires
Beneath her
A grief filled with darkness
Beneath her
Worries of insecurities
Beneath her
A lie of happiness
Beneath her
No one listened
Beneath her
anger flooded her face
Beneath her
Realization of what must come
Beneath her
A pile of dirt
Beneath her
Bugs who flow through soil
Above her
A grave filled of fakeness
Handcuffed behind the back close-up
If you love handcuffs behind the back, in arresting positions, and really good CLOSE-UPS, enjoy my shares. Handcuffs, ropes, even NO bondage; I only focus on women's hands shown behind "PALMS OPEN,"
and showing more femininity. None of this tied "PALMS TOGETHER. Prayer position" nonsense. where is the fun in that? 🤷
Thousands of divs to share
$5/month
Literature
Damseltron 4000
Meg shuffled or rather painfully walked towards her workspace for another long day she rather not face wearing a dark blue suit and black stockings and painful blue high heel shoes. She was the secretary of a rather mean boss who usually was a salve driver and forced Meg to do things she rather not do like feed her dogs or running to grab her dry cleaning. Some days she was such a pain she wanted her kidnap and tied to a train tracks, but ever since trains started to use hover technology that was no longer a means of getting rid of a pain in the butt female.
With a deep breath she entered the waiting room or rather her working space, which t
Literature
Worldbuilder
I knew a man, once.
He had no name, only the name we gave him.
Worldbuilder.
I would often wonder if he had a name, or even a parent, as I watched him make his slow way down the street through our insulated little town every day. The same path, never looking up, only looking weary. No one knew where he came from, or where he went. Yet we all knew what he was.
Worldbuilder.
He had never bothered anyone, never even spoken. I suspected, secretly, that if he ever did speak, his voice would be as rusty as the old gate down the back of Nan’s farm. To our little town, he was just another part of the scenery; a phenomenon so ancient it didn&#
Literature
Bondage
Bondage...
the fiend of pleasure,
the drive of pain...
the addiction forever;
that drives me insane.
The desire that makes me,
the cloud that has change..
a new founded sex type;
that makes me feel the same.
My weakness is a pin point,
i surrender to the mood;
i feel your breath on me..
like a whip in the herd.
I scream with excitement,
i shrill with glee..
i moan so spontaneous,
in ecstacy.
I experience the climax,
i endure the rush,
those cuffs hold me down..
when i feel i've had too much.
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Comments8
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I love the repetition. I also love how this literally shows what was under her, such as the dirt most likely a grave, but also in a figurative way. Like she is more than just the face value. I'd assume she commuted suicide.