.“I was still sobbing almost hysterically, when the bone of hard male flesh came between my widened cleft.„Miss Modesty don’t look so modest now...“ said a thick, Arab voice.His weight came down on me, there was panting in my ear.Then he drove into me. Brutally.Then he began to pound. Brutally.Grunting piggishly.Revealing in this act of ****.As they all do...The b**sts... the b**sts... the b**sts!Mercifully, it was short. No doubt, thrashing me had excited him. But, short or long, what difference. " He!" cried the marquise: "Napoleon the type of equality! For mercy's sake, then, what would you call Robespierre? Come, come, do not strip the latter of his just rights to bestow them on the Corsican, who, to my mind, has usurped quite enough." Nay, madame; I would place each of these heroes on his right pedestal--that of Robespierre on his scaffold in the Place Louis Quinze; that of Napoleon on the column of the Place Vendome. The only difference consists in the opposite character of the. But she did not whip him. Instead he was released and she pointed ather boots. "I am told that you are good at licking boots Prue. Proveit to me." Good boy. Now kiss the inside of my thighs and my leather panties.Smell me. Smell my leather. Smell your Mistress, the one who controlsall of you slave."She watched him come erect as he did as he was told. "Sit back for themoment darling." He sat back on his knees with his head bowed andwaited for her next command. She walked around behind. Her smile was mysterious, like the Mona Lisa's. Her accent was impossible to place, sort of French with a little British and maybe a little Swedish intonation. She smelled of fresh cut grass and flowers. "You don't like the other part of the park any more?" I blushed crimson. I'd felt too guilty to go back after that day. That night, I had been disappointed by my husband for the first time. I'd spent the next few weeks trying to get interested in him, but I felt distant, distracted. He was.
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