Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Sometimes I f**k a boy then flog... sometimes I flog then f**k. It depends on my mood,” a satiated Miss Ayami casually explains, finally withdrawing.
She moves to my front, boots tapping. Standing proximate she grasps my ears, pulling upwards my slumped head. I can smell her heated s*x, her end of the dildo kneading, caressing, manipulating where a woman most needs the delight of friction. Right hand moves to tenderly pat my cheek. The stretching of my anus has been stressful. Not the sharp crisp agony of the cane, but slow suffering, increasing with each thrust, gratefully diminishing with each retraction.
But then would come another thrust... and another... and another.
“When you’re well opened, and you are most able to enjoy, that’s when I’ll toss you away... l
