“God, god, yesyesyesyesyes…” she rattled off … “Damn, you f*****g asshole, f**k me fuuuuck me…” the obscenities poured from her mouth unchecked.
“Yeah, I’m going to f**k you, b***h!”
The quirt came down again, strike after strike whipping into her flesh, catching sharply down the sensitive crack, then curling around and snapping painfully against her heavily swinging p***y lips. The effect was a stinging reign of terror down the back of her thighs.
Then all went quiet. The noise of the quirt ended, the pain receded and her cries diminished. Her p***y lips were numb by now, and the dildo ceased being a cumbersome burden. She wanted a c**k as thick and forceful as the fake one in her ass. But she had to settle for a human one. For her master’s, her captor’s, for Perry Livingston’s c**k.
