Chatroulette Define - The porn authority Devils Films.

director angus n edwards Mandrake and assistant cameraman Chatroulette Define (son), nailing it with all hands on, the team mates all pasty licking around the walls and chatting in deserted corridors. The music is dark. The site is naught but some dubstep beats, a battered old stereo and wires going to and fro. A man sits in a chair, staring off into space. Supersthetics are advanced and almost suffocating. The walls are filled with comfy hi-fi. The floor is polished, even in the creaking old corrugated iron. He cranes round the bend of the river bed in his chariot, the effect is spectacular. His attention is diverted as he slips a thong over his head. He has big, white, male hands, very thick, hands that look so damn good. He hurls himself up into the dance and so gets the thong and his clothes. Flung out across the space, he returns to find those lovely blue eyes looking at him, full and bold and hungry. His aggression peaks and he springs for a reaction, but none is to be found. A short spurt of froth coats his broad throat. He gives a sharp growl, and begins to reel off a string of orgasms, all without touching his teats.

Crying in small sobs, he crawls round in the mud, picks up the discarded clothes and carries them back to the bed. A gigantic belly full of grub, he sleeps. The next morning, I wake from a deep dream, and Chatroulette Define tells me to get her a cup of coffee. I grate grate gratefully. From the last night I had had a wonderful day at work, and I had to finish doing my part for my Master, by scooting round to the front of the bed in the dead of night. Chatroulette Define looks me dead in the eyes as she speaks to me. "Was that a cup of coffee you wanted, yessire? You have it, yet don't you remember past favours? Remember how your Master loves the company of the strong, the manager loves his men, the stockbroker loves his." She looks dead serious. "Go to the storeroom. Your Master will get something for you. Get ready, I am going to set up a video. You will not be needing this very long." I look at her face, her eyes have taken on a life of their own, love a life of pain and ecstasy. I stand transfixed as she speaks to me in this way. After a few minutes of thought I rise quickly, moving to stand by the side of the bed. Chatroulette Define suddenly turns to me. Her silver hair, her blues eyes burning like heat, glittering behind her mask of love and revenge.

"You need to talk to your Master, not just about the video. Go talk to him, tell him what you think of me, what you think of your Master. Tell him that you trust me, that you are my submissive. Go to the kitchen, bring me my coffee and bring that out for me. I will be watching. Careful, we need to talk, it is a bit of a game to play with your body." With those words she draws back her arm, almost drawing me, before moving again. I kneel at her feet, not trusting myself to rise to the occasion. I rub my arm, crying now, reminding myself that my Master is watching me, I want nothing more than to be completely bare for Him. Chatroulette Define steps from the shadows and makes her way to the centre of the bed, naked except for the ties that hold her limbs together. As she raises her foot to the foot of the bed her naked form, swaying, gracefully jumps up and down on the bed, moving in a circle, pausing and straining on the thin walls that hold her softness. Without thought for a moment she turns, brings her foot down hard on the bed, shattering it, spraying the walls in a soft jumble, of icy drops cascading over the headboard and out of the headboard, mingling with the rushes of blood that clot on the broken windows. My head snaps back into focus, then falls back, blood gathering at the corners of my head. I whimper, eyes water, mouth open, teeth clenched. She stands, smiling evilly, shifting into an almost constant scream of ecstasy. I lay, exhausted, for what seems like forever..