"Ohfhfhfffff!"

He straightened his leg quickly, forcing the terrified woman forward, her forehead striking the floor. Monica cried out in pain and fear, losing her balance and toppling onto her right side.

"In the dirt, baby, that's where you belong, crawlin' around in the fuckin' dirt."

Jack was getting excited, his voice trembling more and more with each passing second as he looked down at the helpless, leather-bound, gagged blonde. Moving his foot up, he ground down on her spine, making Monica gasp through the gag and work her fingers against the restraining cuffs. She tried crawling forward, her nose scraping against the concrete, her tits pillowing out under her body, and her knees pressed down against the floor. The leather straps were cutting into her flesh even more, now that she was prone. And how those strips felt, cutting into her pussylips! How it felt when one of them slipped up on her juiceslicked flesh and rubbed over her clit!

"Huhhhhrrrrr!"

"Buy it, bitch, go on and buy it," he growled, pressing the toe of his boot down against the base of her spine, nearly cracking the small bones with the pressure. Monica thought she would surely break, perhaps be paralyzed for life when his foot snapped through her back. Then slowly, gradually, Jack moved his booted foot up, scraping the filthy toe up over the bumps of her discs until he was pressing down on her neck. Monica let out another cry, chomping down hard on the resilient latex gag. Spittle frothed from the corners of her forced-open mouth. His mare, his slave. Yes, Jack had made it apparent what he liked, what he wanted from a woman. And it was becoming clearer and clearer to Monica just what she wanted – a man like him, a master to her perverse passions.