I have Malafada flat on her back, legs lifted high, wrists tightly bound to her ankles. She’s completely immobile, utterly helpless. A gag urges her mouth wide open as I turn her into my personal ashtray. A lit candle rests on the sole of her foot the entire time. If it falls, her face and open mouth burn. She trembles, she whimpers, she suffers beautifully while I savor every second of her desperation. I spit into her waiting mouth, pinch her nipples hard, whip her ass and arms with my riding crop. The psychological and physical tension builds until she shatters. Only then do I release her from this sweet torment.