She is the party favor - a toy for the guests to squeeze, prod, slap. Blindfolded, she is reliant on the guests to lead her around from group to group, dependent on them to arrange her limbs as it pleases them.
One cluster of guests spreads her apart, with someone holding her arms and legs down, so she can’t escape the hands slapping and groping her. Hands rub over her blindfolded face, presenting fingers for her to suck on, more hands fondle her tits, occasionally slapping the soft globes, pinching her nipples, and still more hands spank her pussy, fingers pushing up into her, fingers brushing her clit.
Later, she was urged to straddle a man’s thigh while two more men on either side of her took her wrists and placed her hands on their cocks. She rode the stranger’s thigh while she pumped two cocks in her hands. Two mouths closed over her nipples and licked and sucked unceasingly. Her head fell back as she came and came.
She didn’t always get to come. Coming was incidental - some guests amused themselves by not letting her climax, but for most of the guests, whether she came or not was merely a byproduct of their handling. They entertained themselves by treating her body like an inanimate object, something there for them to touch any way they wished, and occasionally this object was so stirred it would convulse in pleasure. It pleased the guests to see what sorts of sounds and responses they could elicit from this party favor, and they were delighted to find there was quite a wide range of reactions. So much better, one guest said to another, than the old children toys that could speak a limited number of recordings.
She turned her head away from the sound of the camera shutter and bit down harder on the ball gag between her lips.
"Bring your arms closer together," she heard her Master say. "I want your tits pushed together more."
Drawing a loud breath in through her nose, she did as he told her, using the sides of her arms to plump her breasts together more.
"And lean forward a bit more. Good girl."
The shutter clicked rapidly.
Suddenly, a hot tongue tongued her nipple, then moved to bathe the other with the same treatment. She moaned and shifted restlessly as blunt fingers captured each nipple and thumbed them into peaks. She cried out unintelligibly when an open palm slapped each of her breasts back and forth lightly.
He stopped suddenly. “Back in position,” he reminded her. “Lean forward more.”
Shuddering, she arranged herself again the required pose. He resumed an easy rhythm of slapping her breasts. She threw her head back and submitted to his handling, grunting behind her gag. Then his mouth covered each nipple again, sucking strongly and worrying them with his teeth.
She squealed as tight-tensioned clamps settled on each stiff tip. She could feel something heavy drawing them down slightly and surmised it was a chain connecting the two clips.
He stroked the underside of her breasts tenderly before retreating behind the camera again.
The shutter clicked in a rapid series that captured her heaving breasts, the trembling chain, the strain of tension in her body. She had begun to move subtly against the velvet-covered bolster she straddled, tightening her legs around it and trying to grind down on the fabric.
He wandered closer and sure enough, she had left herself a wet spot in the fabric. He pointed this out to her immediately. She wailed a protest of humiliation from behind her gag.
"Shh," he soothed as he uncuffed her wrists. "You’re being so good for me. I’m going to reward you, wouldn’t you like that?"
She turned her head blindly toward the sound of his voice. He was standing behind the camera again.
"Play with yourself," he said, looking at her through the viewfinder. "I want your other hand playing with your tits. Squeeze yourself. That’s it, lovely. Pull on the chain. You can do better than that…good. Touch your naughty little clit. My beautiful darling. Good girl. Put a finger inside yourself. That feels good, doesn’t it? Go on, add another finger. You have my permission to come."
As her fingers moved busily on herself, his own never ceased on the camera.
Whenever her owner had her fetch newspaper from the recycle bin for him, the pet knew he was going to do something to her that would cause her to make an absolute mess of herself.
"Fetch the paper," he said that morning. "From the recycle bin."
He had been rubbing her cunt with his foot while he drank coffee and idly watched recaps from last night’s game. She had been lying on the floor, her feet elevated and planted on each of his armrests, keeping herself spread and open so he could rub his foot back and forth over her cunt. Her fingers were kept busy by playing with her nipples, which he’d given her permission to do.
Now at his order she rolled onto her side and crawled to the recycling bin. She saw yesterday’s paper. Just to be safe, she gathered the day before’s as well. Holding the papers carefully between her teeth, the pet crawled back to him and heeled, knees spread, hands behind her head.
Eventually, he took the papers from her and stood up.
"Heel, pet," he told her.
She crawled at his heels, following him down the hallway, down the carpet-covered stairs into the basement den. The den was part recreational dungeon and part secondary lounge area. He’d outfitted it with bright, warm lighting, and although the floor was concrete, in the lounging section the floor was carpeted with a thick rug.
He walked to the corner of the room to the wooden table where she did her work while undergoing his training. It was clear because she tidied everything away when she wasn’t working. Upstairs she had her own writing desk that was stacked with her personal things. But down here, the desk was utilitarian, a simple, sturdy piece of furniture she worked at while simultaneously being trained. This was where she sat if he wanted her gagged while she worked, or came fresh from a spanking.
He spread the newspapers down carefully. Sometimes he had her do it, an act that always humbled her. Seeing him do it was little better, really, when she knew why he was doing it.
He came to her, a coil of rope in his hand. “Up, pet.”
She rose to her feet. He pulled her blouse up and had her hold it up with her teeth. He put a simple rope tie on her, such that her arms were secured behind her back and her fingers laced together. Rope dipped low over her pelvis to cord over her cotton panties and run up between her legs to the back. If she pulled her wrists some, she pulled the rope between her legs.
He helped the pet onto the newspaper covered table, where she rested on her side, watching him with anxious eyes. She felt cold, lying there so exposed, but when his hand came out to squeeze her breast, she realized she was really burning up. Her nipples were puffy from when she toyed with them. She hoped he would put his mouth on the tips and suck or even worry them with his teeth, but he didn’t, just left her aching for more.
He wrapped rope around one ankle and ran the end of it through a hook in the ceiling, installed for purposes of binding her. All the ceiling hooks could support her weight. When some part or all of her wasn’t strung up from them, they were innocuously concealed by hanging potted plants.
He pulled on the rope, raising her leg in the air. She shifted, the newspaper crinkling beneath her.
The pet’s owner came and stood behind her where she couldn’t see him. He hooked a finger in the rope over her crotch and pulled, increasing the pressure between her legs. She hummed a wordless sound.
He stroked her flank, caressing the inside of her thigh and then smoothing over her belly. He touched her like one might examine horseflesh. Squeezing, fondling, prodding and pinching. He even ran his fingers around her teeth and then depressed her tongue until she gagged.
Then he took out a pair of scissors and carefully cut her clothes open. The rope rubbed between her pussy on her bare skin. He pinched her clit and made some adjustments so the two lines of rope trapped her clit between them. She made a disgruntled, discomfited protest.
"No words," he said sharply. "I want you to control yourself, but I’ll use the gag if I have to. You just earned yourself the clamps."
She groaned and whimpered but it didn’t matter. He took the clamps out from his pocket, which told her he had probably intended to use them on her at some point anyway.
"You know the rules," he said, speaking to the pet patiently as if she were a child. "I think you wanted me to put these on you, hm?"
She moaned unhappily at him, but her nipples were already standing pertly at attention, ready to wear the clamps.
Her owner brushed the backs of his fingers absently over her nipples. “Yes, these precious titties love wearing their clamps, don’t they.”
Then, as always, he made her watch as he put the clamp on. He paused, holding the little press over her nipple. She knew he was waiting for her to give him the sign. Making her ask for it. With a tiny sob, she gave a little wordless grunt. With a smile, he fitted the nipple press on, carefully and methodically turning the twin screws until she gasped with pain, then giving it one more twist. Then he repeated the ritual with the second clamp until both her nipples were adorned, trapped in their little silver presses.
He grabbed her breast in one hand and jiggled its weight, which made her nipple hurt more, then let go.
"A well-trained pet does not beg unless told," he reminded her.
That was the most difficult thing she submitted to, in her feeling. She was not allowed to beg for relief, of pain or of pleasure. Non-verbal noises were permitted, but no words, unless she was prompted.
Her owner pulled up a roller desk chair at the end of the table, between her legs. He touched a vibrator to her clit, which had grown slippery between the two pieces of rope, and turned it on. The newspaper beneath the girl rustled loudly as she jumped.
"You have my permission to come," he told her.
The vibrator was a powerful one, and he held it mercilessly at her clit, knowing exactly the rumbling intensity she favored. She came quickly once he gave his permission, her suspended leg tautening in the air and then sagging in its bondage. He continued to press the vibrator to her cunt, not letting it leave contact.
Her first climax had been in relative silence. As the vibrator urged her to a second, her breathing became open-mouthed and noisy. This time when she came, she let out a little - wordless - cry.
Still he held the vibrator intently between her legs. She moaned on the table and tried to bring her lower leg up to close her thighs, but it was easy for him to hold her leg down on the table. Her clit was quite engorged and very slippery, caught fast in rope; her lower thigh was shiny with her juices, and there was a darkening stain on the newspaper beneath her.
It was easy for him to move the vibrator with the small twitches of her body so that it never left her clit. The intense vibrations now felt very raw on her sensitized clit, not to mention the girl’s body had become trembling, which in turn shook the nipple presses and caused her fresh pain.
He wheeled to the girl’s side, continuing to hold the vibrator firmly in place, and blew lightly on the tips of her clamped nipples. His pet squealed, and her suspended leg kicked uselessly in the air. He rubbed the pillowy tops of her squashed nipples with a fingertip while she turned her face into the newspaper beneath her and half-sobbed, half-squealed, and came again.
He kept this up until the pet was crying loudly and incoherently, still without words. When he turned the vibrator off and set it down, her body continued its quivering. Because she had been so good, he removed the nipple presses, which brought up a fresh storm of tears. He massaged her sorely abused nipples while he petted her cheek, and gradually felt the pet’s little tongue come out to lick his palm.
He untied her leg and helped her stretch it out, then rolled her onto her other side, this time stringing up the other leg. She’d made quite the wet spot on the newspapers, and they stuck to her leg and bottom.
"Eyes," her owner commanded.
Curling her head down, she watched as he hung up an enema bag from another ceiling hook. She shook her head at him and moaned loudly in distress as he took the hose running from the bag and ending in the awful plug that promptly invaded her bottom.
Once it was seated in her, he unclamped the enema hose and the solution began to enter her body.
As she watched through teary eyes, this time not daring a verbal protest, he smeared tiger balm thoroughly into her nipples. The burning sensation coupled with the enema intake made her very uncomfortable indeed and reduced her to near tears again.
Her owner sat by her lower half and rubbed circles on her lower abdomen while her stomach cramped painfully. When the bag had emptied entirely into her bottom, he rolled his chair to sit between her legs again. She had screwed her eyes tightly shut and was concentrating, it seemed, on breathing.
The enema made her cunt a tighter fit, but she was still lubricating herself very nicely, in spite of the enema and burning in her nipples. He pushed the dildo into her cunt while she panted like a dog.
The pet whimpered, sobbed, and grunted as he thrust the dildo into her. He reached up with his other hand and grabbed her nipple, milking it roughly between his fingers as he fucked her with the sex toy. If she could have begged verbally, he had no doubt that she would have begged very prettily indeed at that moment.
The recording equipment in the dungeon-den would pick up all her sounds very nicely. He had a surround sound stereo system kitted out here. The next time she worked here, perhaps when he had both her ass and cunt stuffed, he would play back this recording so she could hear the symphony of her submission.
"This is good for you," he told the pet, loving the rubbery nipple submitting to his rough treatment by maintaining its impudent perkiness no matter how hard he pinched and tugged it, loving all her sounds, especially the sloppy juiciness of the dildo plunging in and out of her while her wetness sluiced down her leg to puddle on the newspaper.
The plug forced her to hold the enema until he allowed her to release it. When he finally did, she was keening loudly from both the orgasm and the cramping. After she released the enema and he cleaned her, he bent her over a plush armchair and fucked her in the ass. She lay docilely under him, her body exhausted from the orgasms and cramps that had wracked her body, hardly twitching even when he smacked her bottom. He was quite, quite hard from forcing her body through all its painful and painfully pleasurable exertions, and he felt like her ass pulled a gallon of seed from his cock before he was done coming.
He kissed her hair and the nape of her neck, then peeled himself off the pet and sat in the armchair.
"Tidy your table, pet," he said.
He watched her walk to the table of impossibly wrinkled newspaper and slowly begin to gather them together. Even after everything she’d done, even as his cum leaked from her ass, she still blushed to see the copious evidence of her excitement on the grey sheets of paper.
In short order, the girl named Elise was stripped of her limited clothing and placed on the floor. Her Master fit an o-ring in her mouth and cuffed her wrists between her legs to the spreader bar forcing her legs wide. She ended up splayed open, cheek to the rug, ass in the air.
She drew a noisy gulp of air through her mouth. Her body still tremored with the aftereffects of her illicit orgasm. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen, and her nipples ached from their rough and long handling.
High above her head, the girl could hear the sounds of the party swirling on. The clink of glasses, a new bottle being uncorked, indulgent laughter and murmur.
The woman with the white dress, now spotted with red wine that the girl had errantly spilled while in the throes of a forbidden orgasm, squatted down beside her. The woman wore the most beautiful pair of silver high heeled slippers. The girl was drooling a little on the rug. Her entire body was suffused with the heat of her humiliation. This was not an unfamiliar position to her. Her Master had photographs and even video of her in this position. The girl knew exactly what she looked like - a bitch in heat, tied down for fucking, her available holes exposed and on display for people to use.
In this position, she couldn’t do much except wiggle her bottom, which would only seem like a teasing enticement.
The woman reached down and pinched the girl’s tongue, wagging it between her fingertips.
"That was very bad of you," she said sternly. "This is a new dress, you know." Then she gave a laugh that belied her words. "Oh well, now we’ll get to take the price of it out of your pretty little slave body. Well worth it, I’d say!"
The woman straightened out of the girl’s view. Someone standing behind the girl touched her bottom. The girl groaned as the plug that had been seated in her bottom all evening was slowly pulled out. The black butt plug was inexorably eased out, and the girl was panting when it was gone.
Someone whistled. “The slut had that insertion up her bum all night? Quite a feat.”
"She’s very nicely stretched out now," someone else said.
A blunt finger touched her anus and wormed into her ass. Another finger dipped into her cunt and someone pronounced her “fuck holes ready for play.”
The girl heard her Master say from behind her, “Pass me the…? Thanks.”
Then something broad was pressing up between her legs, prodding the lips to her cunt. The girl was huffing through the O-ring gag. Her muscles clenched, and her bottom was swiftly slapped. She submitted. The dildo was long and meaty, and it kept going until it bumped her cervix. It felt like a baseball bat was being pushed into her hole.
Something hard was pushed into her hand, and the girl realized it was the base of the dildo in her cunt.
"Hold it. Don’t drop it, you don’t want another infraction. You know what to do with this, don’t you? Ah yes. There’s my good slave slut. You know what to do with a cock."
The girl tightened her fingers on the end of the dildo and began to fuck herself with it, as best she could. God, it was in so deep. There was a light scattering of applause, as if she’d performed some trick - the slut fucking herself with a sex toy.
"Hand me the ginger," the girl’s Master said.
The girl froze. Blood pounded in her head. She’d been figged before, just twice, enough to assure her Master that it induced such an unbearably intense reaction in her body that he reserved it for punishment.
The girl wailed. Her feet drummed uselessly on the floor. She pulled at the spreader bar holding her apart.
Guests laughed. They were entertained by her display.
Her Master was less amused. His palm swiftly cracked down across her bared bottom, intent on immediately correcting her unacceptable behavior. The girl sobbed. Tears and drool wet the rug.
The damnable woman from before noticed and drolly pointed out the mess Peter’s slut was making.
The girl’s Master said, “It’s fine. I’ve worked it out with John. Elise the slut is going to be a whole lot messier before the night’s over. We’ll just roll her up in the rug and take her down to my car that way. No sense in getting the upholstery soiled.”
He never stopped spanking the girl as he spoke. He didn’t stop until the girl had subsided her anxious, angry movements.
"You’ve been quiet disobedient tonight, Elise," he told the girl. "I expect better from you in the new year."
One of his hands came to pull the globe of the girl’s ass apart even more. Slowly, he forced a sizable piece of peeled ginger root into his slave’s bottom hole. The girl wailed but this time managed to control herself from fruitlessly shifting about. Her Master sank about three inches of ginger into her rectum, checked to make sure it was wedged tightly in her, and then ripped off two strips of duct tape to ensure she couldn’t expel it on her own.
The guests didn’t have to wait long for their entertainment. Perhaps thirty seconds to a minute later, the girl began to wail. It was impossible for her to keep still then. Her bottom jumped and jiggled as much as they could given her restraints. The burning from the ginger in this private part of her flooded her nerves.
She was well-trained; she kept pressing the dildo in and out of her cunt. The head of the toy bumped her cervix each time. Her wail became an unbroken, tormented cry. Guests urged her to “ram it in her slut hole.” The girl did her best, wanting to please.
A thin, moderately flexible rod whipped down on the soles of her feet, wielded by the woman with the ruined white dress. Five strikes on each foot that had the girl screaming. A stranger’s sodden panties were pushed into the O-ring, compressing the girl’s tongue and muting her somewhat. The girl’s eyes were wide open but seemed to see little.
Her Master suddenly pulled the dildo from the girl’s grasp and took over fucking her hole with it himself.
"You have permission to come, sweet Elise," her Master said.
He began to spank her again. Each strike caused her ass to tense, making her unwillingly squeeze and milk the ginger root. Through the sensations wracking her body, the girl barely heard people began to call out, joining her Master’s voice, “Ten…nine…eight…”
The girl heard her Master’s voice above the rest. He smacked her ass hard with each count while his other hand kept thrusting the toy into her pussy.
Pain and arousal bloomed from her cunt and ass to overwhelm her body. In that moment, the girl felt truly owned and controlled by her sex holes. She was her Master’s fuck toy, a sexual plaything, his slave slut. Everyone in the room at the party knew it. Witnessed it.
The girl bucked in her restraints. Everyone’s shoes were turned away from her face at the moment, watching, she thought, the television of the countdown. In that moment, it was just the girl and her Master.
The climax that exploded through the girl had the force of a tsunami. She shook in her bondage, scraping her nipples and breasts against the rug, titillating them further. Her Master ceased spanking her and instead began to fuck the ginger root in and out of her bottom.
Cries of Happy New Year erupted around the room. Warm jets of cum hit the girl from several of the male guests. The panties were pulled from her gagged mouth and a penis was pushed inside instead for her to clean. People continued to jerk off and spend themselves on her still body. Their leavings quickly turned cold, but then someone would come and unload on her. It seemed some of them were doing this as they were departing the party, like coming on her was signing a guestbook.
The girl’s Master eased the dildo out. He replaced it with his cock. The girl was sore and overly sensitive, and she held still for her Master to dump his cum in her. He came this time; she didn’t.
The spreader bar was finally removed, but her limbs remained spread open. Her Master gently brought her arms and legs down close together. She lay there limply, letting him arrange her as he willed. He rolled her to one edge of the carpet and stood over her. Capturing her gaze, she watched as he took his cock in hand and released a stream of urine on her, aiming at her tits and then splattering her cunt.
"Who do you belong to, sweet Elise?" her Master asked.
"I belong to you," the girl sighed.
Then another guest helped him roll the girl up in the soiled rug. So tightly that her arms were pinned at her side. The girl was warm in the rug, cushioned alone with the smell of semen and the feel of sticky wetness encasing her body. She was carried carefully down to her Master’s car and laid in the flatbed of his truck. A webbing of rope secured her further, pinning her down to the truck. Then she heard the rustling of the tarp being spread over the back.
The girl slept.
The bridesmaids had received their instructions from the groom, and they carried them out with wicked delight. Before helping Lana into her dress, they pinned the bride down and edged her close to orgasm until she was in tears.
"Please let me, oh please let me come," she begged in between screams.
"Dominic told us all about your rules," Karen said. "You can’t come without permission, and we’re not supposed to let you come. We’re just helping you get ready, honey."
Lana screamed again as Sally tongued her clit, sucking steadily at engorged bud. Her thighs tried to close, but Karen and Amy immediately pulled her knees open again and peppered the inside of her thighs with crisp smacks.
"If you don’t obey us, Dominic said we were to put you in your training bra," Karen warned.
The threat was sufficient to ensure Lana’s good behavior. The training bra was an awful, torturous device, expensively tailored to her measurements, and used by her Master to train her to obedience as his sex slave. The garment molded to her breasts, and inside of the cups were lined tacks that were only cushioned enough to not pierce her skin but otherwise caused her a great deal of discomfort. She couldn’t imagine having to wear the bra under her bridal corset. Lana would do anything to stay out of the bra.
Amy squeezed one of her breasts, holding it for her mouth to suck on the nipple while on her other side, Karen took great pleasure in twisting her other nipple and pulling it up to jiggle the weight of her breast by its tip.
Lana’s cries changed pitch again. Karen began slapping Lana’s tit, which jerked her back from the edge again.
"Thank me for helping you follow your rule, Lana," Karen said sweetly.
Lana sobbed, “Thank you for slapping my tit, Karen. Please, may I have another?”
"Oh my god, she’s such a good slut!" Karen laughed. "No wonder Dominic hardly ever lets her come; it’s so fun when she can’t!"
The make-up quite couldn’t hide her wild eyes, frantic with need.
One night Master invited a Mistress who owned a male slave over for an evening.
She was fascinated by the difference in the way his Mistress treated him. For instance, at dinner she had to endure the nightly humiliation of being locked into a high-chair that had been specially made for her. Once placed in it, she couldn’t get out of it without help. Her ankles were fitted into little stocks a rung below her bottom so her knees jutted out widely to the sides and her sex was fully exposed. A pink, ruffled bib was velcro-fastened behind her neck and hung over her chest but didn’t conceal her nipples or the round curves of her breasts. Her meal was a nutritious but bland porridge that her Master spooned into her mouth, and she was given apple juice in a sippy cup.
The male slave on the other hand, was given his meal from a stainless steel dish on the floor by his Mistress’ chair. When he finished eating, he knelt up by her side and waited until she leaned over and cleaned his face with a napkin, wiping away the smears of food.
His Mistress trailed her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp every now and then while his eyes narrowed in pleasure.
After she finished her meal, her hands were locked to the high chair. Her own Master, having fed her, took his own meal with one hand. His other he kept fingering her cunt and shushing her when she grew too loud in expressing her desire.
Later in the night, her hands were harnessed behind her back by her Master’s rope, and she was laid flat on her back on the wooden coffee table.
Her Master and his Mistress friend settled themselves on chairs to the side.
"Eyes here," her Master said. "You’ll keep your eyes on us, slave."
The Mistress spoke to her own slave. “Push her legs up. Look down at her pussy. Isn’t it so pretty? Hold her left leg to the side so we can see. Oh, she’s so wet! Give her pretty little hole a good lick.”
The girl sighed with pleasure. She watched Master and Mistress watch her back.
"Keep your legs up," her Master ordered.
"Now, feed her hungry little hole your cock," the Mistress cooed, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Her eyes were avid. "Give it to her slowly."
The male slave was well-endowed. His cock pushed into the girl an agonizingly slow inch at a time. She bit her lip as he thrust all the way into her. When he was balls deep in her cunt, he held still and waited for further instruction.
"Grab her ankles," her Master told the man fucking his property. "Hold her open for you to fuck."
"There’s my good boy," his Mistress said proudly. "Doing what he does best."
"As my slave does what she does best," her Master said. They clinked their glasses together.
She felt herself sliding a bit back and forth across the surface of the coffee table as the male slave fucked her. She could see only the shape of him in her peripheral vision. Instead, she watched her Master as she was held open and steadily fucked.
"Faster," his Mistress said. "Keep pumping into her little slut hole."
Her Master said, “Pinch her nipples. Don’t be gentle with them. Hard. That’s it. It feels good to hurt her titties, doesn’t it? Now, pull them.”
She cried out and tried to curl her weight up to alleviate the pressure on her breasts, but the Mistress said sternly, “Hold still like a good fuck toy for my boy to use.”
The two of them climaxed almost simultaneously. Her Master chatted with his friend as she lay on her back and watched them.
He said, “Next time, we’ll have to bring another so we can fuck her continuously.”
"Yes, I know just who to bring. Next time."
When the male slave recovered, the directions began again, with both their owners calling out instructions for them to comply with.
"My little princess likes being her Daddy’s baby girl-slut, doesn’t she? She likes having a Daddy who will spank her when she’s been naughty, or even if she’s been good, just because he wants to, hm?"
His baby girl-slut mumbled something from behind her pacifier gag.
"Go on, be a good girl-slut for Daddy. Spread your legs wide, baby. When you’re out at work and with your friends, you can be Kristina all you want with them. But in private, you’re my Krissy, aren’t you?"
His Krissy was bright red. She watched her boyfriend - no, now he insisted he was her Daddy - cover her breast with one large hand and squeeze, gently at first, then harder as he smiled down into her face. He kept groping her breasts as his other hand fondled her between her legs.
"Krissy, you’re dripping," he said, delighted. "You really love being my little baby girl-slut. Your pussy is creaming."
She covered her face in humiliation and sucked harder on the pacifier-gag.
"What a darling baby girl-slut you are, Krissy. Fucking yourself on my fingers like that. Keep going, baby. Daddy’s going to let you come this time, but you only have two minutes to do it. If Krissy doesn’t come hard for her Daddy now, he’s going to give her a good spanking, see if that doesn’t help her along. Then we’ll try again, and if baby Krissy still doesn’t come when she’s told, her Daddy’s going to use a hairbrush on her cute bottom."
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Bind and fucked by #BBC
Sometimes I will prop your ass up, hold you down, and simply fuck you.
As you wish
How ever you please Sir
Spanking your clit while I fuck your wet pussy. You’re My dirty little slut.