Movement was, in theory, possible.Reasons to move were obvious. She lay in the disgusting residue of her own long-dried emissions, half-adhered to the...cold dungeon floor. The instruments of her most recent torture still occupied her aching orifices, and dislodging them would be its own form of painful self-punishment. She knew that at some point in the near future she’d be subjected to yet another session of torments, both physical and psychological.But she didn’t care. Nothing mattered. They sit, just looking at each other. Kitty leans forward and steals a kiss, she pulls back and grins looking for a sign of approval. He gives it and returns the gesture, their lips locked in passionate fire. His hands run up and down her back unconsciously as she lifts his t-shirt, his vest long gone, over his head, gently brushing the spikes. Her nails scrape down his spine resulting in a deep intake of breath from Johnny as his hand trace down Kitty’s back. Kitty pulls away, her eyes still. More

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