Humbled AgainWithin moments I hear the office door open. No words are exchanged as I sense movement behind me. My testicles are jostled, and just as with handler Beth yesterday, I feel the cool smooth wood of a humbler at the back of my thighs as my sac is captured and compressed. And Beth is correct in her assessment. The woman is a magician, in moments deftly placing my precious organs in quirky bondage.
“Would you rut him a little for me Morena? I do want him kept stiff and in the right frame of mind.”
In silence I sense footsteps then tension on the nostril rope, forcing up my head. There comes the scent of feminine fragrance, strong and musky, reminding that for the women of the island feminine hygiene comes only by way of the tongue and lips of a pixie. Those thoughts are quickly s
