“I forged these myself. They are balanced to perfection.”She sat them on the work bench, the sunlight glinting off her glasses. She smiled at me, ... creamy glimmer between her thighs. She picked up a large chisel. “Shall we bless them, Mistress?”The tool’s handle was round and smooth, made of gray-black steel. The tip looked sharp, the end blunt like the head of a cock. I smiled as I sauntered to her, the heat building in my pussy. Juices ran down my thighs.“And ... I assume I have to quench. She was covered in her ownblood. It was all over her, streaked through her hair, in dark patchesthat glistened in the moon light down her dress. Her legs, her beautiful,beautiful legs were a wash in red. The hose she wore were shredded andhung in dripping strips. Her dress was torn and hung loosely from oneshoulder. She walked through the grass, limping and pathetically mewingin pain as she did. Nothing seemed to be broken on her, but she wasfavoring her right arm. It hung limply at her. More

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