Words could not express her distress. Her hand still gripped the ochre wood, now glowing red hot in her right hand, listless by her side.Strange music...filled the air, as Jean’s eyes started to burn. The voice screamed in pain as the smell of cooking flesh grew stronger, flavouring the air with what could only be described as an unusual perfumed incense that burned all the way down into your lungs.The melody entranced the burning flames, flickering and wavering with each crescendo and. For that she needed an excuse and I was there to provide her with one. That's her story in some pictures. she thought it was sexy to have your asschicks slapped around a bit. Kinky even. She felt kind of cool for that. But her roomate was in the room beside and she could hear everything. Not the cries of joy, but these of pain and humiliation. She never came that day. She never begged enough for it. She thought that keeping it was making her special.She wore that buttplug for 2 days straight.. More

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