Starved Beast. Part 2

I know such freedom, and in the words of my tongue: j'accuse!

I know the freedom to watch a wife's humiliation, of enduring it, of watching dirty men's hands playing with her buttons, laces and zips, caressing her skin, their cocks exploding in her holes and pounding her pussy like canons. Clods of mortar fix my prison and layers of limestone protect it, unyielding and impermeable - and I'm glad. I cry out and shriek to the Gods - deny me my freedom!

What interest have I in watching strangers torturing my wife, striking her with whips and tearing at her skin, in hearing her cries and being unable to help her?

"Look at how he's enjoying it," they sneer, pressing their paws into the jaws of her sex. They tickle her slit. They kiss and lick and pinch her pearl with their nails. "Look at how his knob throbs for release! Look how purple and bulbous it stands! Let's thrust it into her mouth while we fuck her! Maybe she'll suck him and he'll cum!"

Oh God! Have mercy on thi