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Stacey

Guys, you don't want a stupid girl because the sharper is her mind, the more versatile is her twat.

Dozens of women today had a PE half as long as within regular course. After lunch, we had to change into naughty lovemaking outfits and sleep until evening in the bags, which changed the purpose of the lecture hall to make us stronger for an extraordinary test. They directed our minds, twats, and every inch of our curves to be full of energy when we met a squadron of fifteen guys to have sex with. 

They hadn't assigned me a new Heir, but I didn't fall out of practice. My desire grew in me.

Wardens led us individually to the rooms, in front of which queues of young horny men were already forming, waiting for their dirty slut, a role that had already come naturally to me. Luckily, Shawn wasn't among them.

What did they say in their instructions? A proper woman can't be a good whore if she doesn't talk like one.

"Hey, fellows," I shouted and ran my hands over crimson underwear. "I am the Red Fog! You won't see much, but you will feel something that will rob you of your sense of time and space!"

Fifteen cocks followed, which got hard pretty effortlessly in my presence, but that was part of the course. The usual rules didn't apply. They could ask for my pussy, my ass, or my mouth, and my boy, they took advantage of it! I frolicked half-naked and completely naked, with a pleasant tickle in my lower abdomen, sticky butt, with a salty and bitter taste on my tongue, dripping the white liquid. After fifteen men, I wanted to sleep again, but I had to satisfy two at a time and then five times three at a time. I've seen guys who are both skinny and lackluster, but beautiful types that I would pay for when I was free also came, and I was glad that their muscles clutched my tits.

Us being exhausted after all that love didn't interest anyone in security or management. Until ten o'clock, they tested us on less demanding things, such as pleasant conversation, attention to the cleavage, and handing panties under the table. The order of our evening was more like shooting a movie.

"You can spend the night in the rooms of your favorite lover," told us Michelle. "But how do you choose between so many, Hamilton?" 

I had fascinating fantasies that would be great to do with Simon or Reginald. However, my classmates were claiming them immediately after the lady's choice announcement, and I heard someone arm-wrestling for them. I lowered my standards then and began to recognize young Bort, whose ass I could imagine on a ninja who had come to kidnap me to teach me sexual arts that could be deadly if practiced incorrectly. We played a game on the subject for an hour in bed, but then I, the sleepy bitch, had to regain the energy I needed.

I woke blissfully to a strange weight covering me, too soft to be Bort. I looked around curiously and had to open my mouth because piles of flowers – roses, gillyflowers, daisies – were lying on my blanket and smelling nice.

"You are our collective princess, aren't you?" Bort asked.

"Guilty as charged!" I replied, the fragrance filling me.

"Then you must prove it with the Princess test." Bort came to me with a medieval-themed carrot-orange dress.   

My exploitative gentleman dressed me with almost the same gusto as he had undressed me before. 

"It doesn't matter if you look stupid or smart. You have to be one of the sunshine darlings of the hall," Bort said and kissed me between my breasts.

The hall was the Holy Submission Lounge, and like the sun accompanied by men, fifteen women shone in different colors, waiting for their sirs to tell them when to speak. Guests of both sexes stared at Arnolph, barely visible among the wardens.

"You are supposed to be goddesses of the kitchen and the bedroom or slaves to the will of your masters'," the Principal commenced the speech, "but in social circumstances, you are not to be just guided. You should pretend the intelligence that you may not-"     

"Strip the she-devil and take her to the Prefect!" 

Everyone, from the most cowardly puppy to the bravest bitch in the neighborhood (read: me), trembled at the malevolence of the voice, sharing the hope that it was about a different frightened woman.

A knife sliced open my dress at the back, and the enforcer's hands tied my wrists.

 Apart from Zita Shitpiece, I was the only one from our original group not to be detained again. It should have felt strange.

I could think better about the encounter with Green because this gang hadn't taken me to the bag. I could fine-tune the tone I would speak in and how much I should remind him of my debt to him. The scariest part is always the unknown. He had bypassed Arnolph, so he must have had a new charge up his sleeve. I was only sure that this time, it wasn't Shawn who was complaining.

The Prefect's minions took the fastest route out, but they didn't even get halfway, and guys in austere suits stopped them, badges in their hands. A thin man separated from the silent crowd. He was a guy of Middle Eastern appearance, his face adorned with a black beard.

"Agent Daher, FBI," he introduced himself, looking for reactions to his authority in the faces of the enforcers. "I know you're leading a murder suspect, but we have got orders to take over the investigation and to interrogate her."

Murder suspect? Either I'm sleepwalking and fulfilling my dreams asleep, or someone's hatred for me was worth destroying someone else's expendable person.

"The Prefect has the right to bring charges in Wyo-"

"The Fraternal Bureau of Investigation is intervening at the express request of the Princeps himself, who has concluded that these embarrassing partisan disputes require the intervention of impartial investigators.  He has, therefore, ordered units of the Justice and Defense departments to land around the Princess Tower. Am I supposed to show you the text of the order?"

"We'll give her to you. We just wanted to, given the seriousness of the accusation -"

"Rest assured that we will meet all the standards of her interrogation."

I was still naked when they took me to this and the dungeon, and the chains on my arms stretched out so far that I thought my muscles would break. However, my legs were locked in contraptions on the floor, and my thighs promised free passage.

Daher was looking at me, searching for something in my face. An ugly agent with pig eyes and a pincushion in his hand greedily evaluated a different part of my body.

"Miss Hamilton, this is going to be fun for us, whatever you say, but I'm sure you'll recognize an answer that won't make you too happy but will save us work." He took one of the needles and looked at it worshipfully. "Did you kill your former lover, Shawn Cruz, and attack the Prefect's enforcer, Paul Danchenko?"

It rarely happens, but sometimes there is partial happiness in an unhappy situation that refreshes you, whatever else that means.

"Shawn is dead? He deserved it. Thank you for the news, but if you can read my expression and you would look up at me, you would know that I'm surprised and didn't..."

"I only asked," said the satisfied agent. He approached my crotch and pushed the needle into the softest flesh of my pussy. In my head, I saw the tip slicing through my pink flesh. I screamed and tried to relieve the pain by moving my legs, but no one gave me that.

"I think you heard the question correctly, so imagine I asked it again. And let me present your answer. It's still no – isn’t it? And who is Mr. Danchenko, you don't know at all?"

"Of course, you sadistic knows-it-all!"

"You overestimate me. I don't know everything. For example, I still can't call myself a real expert on female anatomy, and in that area, I'm limited to educated guessing." He demonstratively pulled out the second needle, and with his tongue sticking out, he stabbed me in second place sharply, getting into a deeper area. The terrible pain suddenly became unbearable. I screamed as if I was giving birth, although, at that moment, I was more afraid of vomiting. I wished the needles would fall out and shatter.

"We all have our methods," sighed the interrogator. "Some repeat questions, others expect the perpetrator to change his mind and make a statement spontaneously. Why underestimate him? You need to be creative. You girls like boots. Have you heard of Spanish boot?"

I didn't answer him. The ball was on his court, and it wasn't hopping away.

I closed my lips convulsively, but that didn't deny the reality. Around my knee, calf, and thigh on both legs, I felt someone tightening the pieces of casing, irritating me with small-sized metal pyramids or wood screws that were close in sharpness to those two needles. So far, it was just uncomfortable, but they were tightening it!

"Believe me, this is the warm-up phase, and in the case of a special interrogation, the name has a strong warning meaning." I saw that he had a razor blade in his hand, and he was shaving off the remaining fluff on my crotch very roughly. It was supremely unpleasant, but compared to the needles I had inside me, what bothered me at that moment was the fact that someone like him was touching my most intimate organ. He topped it off by inserting a third needle, this time on the surface of my womanhood. I whimpered, but he couldn't find mercy in himself. He just showed me a lit lighter.

"Now, Miss Hamilton, the needles are made of iron. To have a hot iron in your insides – let's say that a person risks sanity for the rest of his life."

I didn't answer him. I felt the Spanish boots penetrating my legs. I felt like a steak, pounded and then cut. I screamed louder and louder and forbade myself to say a single word because I was starting to want to confess to something I hadn't done.

"Miss Hamilton, I'm not mad at you. That you won't admit it means I'm doing something wrong. I don't think I have distributed the pain much yet." He gave instructions to his colleagues and waited for a while while the agony crushed my legs to a pulp.

"No," Daher changed plans they hadn't even told me about. "You're not going to remove her teeth. There's still a chance she will hit the market. I want you to make her stand."

Someone untied my hands, which stopped one kind of pain, but it didn't please me because everything else continued to torture me with an unchanging force.

 "Miss Hamilton," Daher said. "We're going to free your feet now, and we'd like you to walk around the room a bit."

I didn't know if there was a slight humanity in his team or if they had written me off as an incorrigible suspect, but they left me in the realm of the unconscious I had fallen into because of them.

With my senses restored, the pain came again. The Federals – or the Fraternals – had moved me to a room with only a table and two chairs. Traditionally, I was tied to my seat and did not complain about it internally. Otherwise, I would fall to the floor, and my feet in the roaring regenerators would not be able to carry me.

Daher at the other end of the table was already emptying the bowl, and I, attracted by the smell in front of me, took a spoon and sent the nutrients to the tormented body. My bowl was half full of crushed and boiled crustaceans. I had to bite down carefully so that I didn't get stung by one of their claws. I guess I should be happy that I still have a tongue and all of my teeth.

I spoke to Daher with my mouth full. He did not deserve respect. "It seems that you are one of the more attentive. I'm lucky to have come across you." I put my left hand between my breasts and stomach. "You didn't give me any clothes, but you stopped one of the techniques of cruel torture, and you eat with me almost as an equal."

Three bites passed before the agent answered me. "I hate suspects like you. Given the wishes of Princeps, the fact that you didn't succumb means that we have to arrange a trial quickly, and it will quickly come to two verdicts. I can't control whether Princeps signs 'guilty' or 'innocent'".

"I'm not a lawyer, but I'm a detective. I contributed to the justification of the judgment. What will stand there if I am convicted?"

Daher raised an eyebrow. "You hated the man, the enforcer was in your way, and you left your DNA on the scene. We policemen don't live in fairy tales. We live in cases that we can sum up in three points at the most."

"Cameras will depict where I was."

"That could be Arnolph's ruse, meaning her ass will be on the line, too."

He should be the suspect, because it was his story that had holes wide the size of the Grand Canyon.

Daher licked his spoon and tossed it onto the empty bowl.

"He can't remember. His brain is scrambled. He can count himself lucky to have learned how to breathe again."

"None of this sounds like the deed of a deranged person who was recently liberated from that guy. Prefect Green wants to take revenge on me and Princeps can discredit him if-"

"If he takes that course of action."

I pushed my bowl away, even though I still had food in it.

 "You're a cop. You should be interested in what happened and not allow the investigation to deviate from reality!"

"The concept of law has changed."

"But we can still reflect on the law. Would you let your wife end up here?"

"I'm divorced."

"Oh."

He got up from the table and held out his hand to knock on the door. He turned fast enough for me to see the disgust of twitching lips. "You won't be able to work as a co-lector for a long time. Can you recommend one for yourself, since the other one – I mean Miss Ekström – has died?"

I burped loudly. "Miss Xiong is a physique legend. Hodges knows how to bully people. Freeman is an amazing, obedient little girl and would love to turn people into them."

Daher turned and spoke. "For work reasons, I visited one of my former colleagues in another Princess Tower. She was better off doing what she was good at."

 He hurriedly left the room, and the enforcer untied me with the regenerators on my feet and dragged me across the yard to the cells of the Security. I was not entitled to one whole cell. I had to crouch down and squeeze into the cage. The other prisoners stood in separate contaiments, also completely naked.

"I wish I had a shared cage like my budgies," quipped Kane.

 "I told you that every prison is small," Jenine said.

"With you two, the wait for the trial will pass quickly," I assured them.

 "Mayson has the cell across the street to himself when he gets back here," Jenine noted, hardening her expression.

 There will be several trials in a row, the knowledge illuminating the darkness between the bars enlightened me. And even Princeps will not decide all the sentences.

I couldn't sleep, if for no other reason than because of the vibrations from the regenerators. That wasn't the only reason my body was weak. A few hours were enough for my stomach to growl, its supply of crustaceans depleted, and my dry throat also reported. I woke up at night and threw myself on the plastic bottle, stuck to my cage, this time deceived, only to taste the disgusting sperm. It wasn't until the morning, announced by turning the prison lights on, that I discovered a similar bottle torn off a few inches from Jenine's cage.

The male privilege applied even in the sphere of the régime's enemies, as evidenced by the rosier cheeks of Mayson when one compared them to ours. The formal Principal sat in his cell, staring at a greasy stain that his imagination may have turned into a window. 

"I hope your dear will come during visiting hours," I teased him. "I have to call her as a witness when the patriarchs will judge me."

Mayson didn't turn his head even when he spoke. "Sophia can't say anything in your defense. Someone dug deeper into our database than my dick into Cabrera and wiped most of our database from the cameras at the time of the murder. The person we suspect behind the sabotage will appear in court as a witness for the opposing party."

"Perhaps Arnolph has her watched."

 "She will find her a suitable position and move her around so that she will not have much time for intrigues."

She should have the least of it in the meat grinder.

My thirst and hunger grew, but strangely they did not budge the bars of my cage. These needs were perfectly suited to the design of the enforcers, who, after pulling me out, provided me with a beige jacket, a grey miniskirt, and a wheelchair.

With the speed with which I was taken out, I had to compliment the leather straps that held my regenerators to the pedals. The Fraternals might have tortured me, and they didn't mind condemning a woman for something she couldn't do, but they still didn't want to bring me to the trial crippled to death.  

 The outdoor tennis court was converted into a courtroom. It was a fitting place to pass judgment on the PE teacher and probably the perfect area to emphasize that what is supposed to take place here is game and play.

While soldiers with enforcers carved the wide space, the functionaries sat behind the plastic tables. I missed the jury. That part of the trial was sent on its merry way when Juan Gilbert replaced the last of the presidents.

 The robed judge, the prosecutor, and my dubious defense lawyer were all young men of the new noble generation, who could be considered obedient but not humble. Next to the defense lawyer, on whose desk Arnolph was breathing, an empty seat was waiting for me. On her sides were full-fledged free lectors and on the edges other co-lectors. Anyone who did not know them would not recognize the two groups. Everyone had the anguished look of a fish that knows it will never get out of the net. 

 They were not at all like the jurors behind the prosecutor. Three men and two women got their ebony chairs there. The front seats were taken by Daher and people whose names I did not know. Next to the fear-inducing enforcer sat the Tower Doctor, smiling with cracked lips, Bellinda and, of course, Dorothy filled the back row. 

The earth, the glass ceiling, and everything in between were captured by the insect-like drones with tiny cameras and big guns.   

 Enferocer placed my wheelchair to the right of the defender. The lad, whose overbite and sparse eyebrows sucked the coolness from the cradle to the grave, took out four sheets of paper covered thickly with writing from his briefcase.

"Have you confessed?" he asked me quietly.

 "I won't confess even if they cut off both of my hands," I said aloud. The judge made a gesture with his hand that was probably intended to imitate the movement of a saw.  

 "That means half of my notes are useless!" the lawyer said.

The judge pressed a button on his laptop, and the sound of a gong sounded, Archibald Zimmerman presiding. The prosecutor bowed deeply and delivered his speech. In it, he called me a fool who is able only to express herself physically and in the area of men's affairs I didn't understand a zilch. This is what led to the misunderstanding of my Heir's methods. I got good grades in Lovemaking anyway because I'm a nymphomaniac using men for my dirty business.

My defense lawyer did not object. During my characterization, he crossed out several paragraphs of his papers and completed the client's reputation section.

The denigration then turned to Shawn's elegy. He was a brilliant young man. He was supposed to take over his father's dress company, but society lost his brain.

I correctly guessed his intended conclusion.

„Shawn Cruz was the second representative of the elite to lose his life in this Princess Tower. He resisted the ineptitude of the system himself, but in vain. He died under the watchful eye of the management that protects their murderesses.“

I was swallowed up by a monstrous political machination and saw deep into its bowels. Judge Archibald came here as an agent of Princeps and the prosecutor, the actor whose character had the greatest motivation, had to be Green's man. I studied him as he settled his hippo ass. He did not lack joy in what he was doing. It wasn't enough for me to remain a mere predator to defeat him. I had to turn into a killer whale butcher.

Sorry, protectors. I must feel tough.

 "Are you sure you haven't changed your mind?" the judge asked me.

 I stood proudly and cursed the pain in my treated legs

 "Innocence is not a matter of my mind!"

Archibald got angry. "Give her six of the best for contempt of court!"

The Enforcer pushed me out of the wheelchair and as soon as I lost my balance, he grabbed my arm with his crushing grip and bent me over the table. I looked back to see him take a reformatory strap from the holster at his waist and slap me brutally across my skirt, two more strokes setting the same spot on fire. SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!!!

I suppressed my scream, and by doing so I deliberately irritated him. I told myself that those needles were among the worst experiences I could encounter here. But courage doesn't pay off when someone is punishing you. The enforcer stopped for a moment, hiked my skirt, and gave me the second half of the spanking. I didn't scream anyway. That sting, reminding me of Dad's worst parenting lesson, didn't hurt nearly as much as the murder charge. 

 My thrashing concluded, I sat down, condemned to wiggle in the wheelchair. 

 Sitting in the chair next to the judge's desk, Bellinda turned into an angry fury, echoing the dead Shawn's complaints about how rebellious and maladjusted I was, and how I needed constant punishment. Her speech became most coherent when she explained that this murder and the fact that I had gotten hold of a gun best proved my connection to the dubious leadership of the Tower, which fights against the defenders of a clearly defined order.  

The prosecutor approached the case artistically. A doctor replaced Bellinda on the witness stand. He coldly and dispassionately described my last encounter with Shawn and how the late Hachi Manabe used him to his advantage. At this point, the prosecutor had to tame him so he wouldn't think of possible political connections, expressing his gratitude grudgingly when he received confirmation that vindictiveness might be brewing in me.  

Next, they called my name, which unsettled me. The will of the enforcer pushed my wheelchair.  

 "Stacey," the prosecutor addressed me with a humor in his voice. "Do you know that if you continue to be naughty, you will get another beating?"  

They made me swear on the revised constitution. I negligently promised to tell the truth.

"Can you deny the state of your relationship with Shawn Cruz as described by the witnesses?"

 "No, I can't. I would wish to experience only what these people knew about."

"And whose fault was it?"

I looked at my lawyer. He was filling in Sudoku squares.

"I'll tell you whose fault it is that it will never get any better. The one who killed him. That person may sit in this court, he may serve Principal Arnolph or Prefect Green, but he certainly does not serve justice!"

"You said three sentences," proclaimed the judge. "And for each one, you will receive three strokes. Three more for disparaging your betters. From the first to the last, they will be given on the bare."

The bailiffs bent me over the wheelchair itself. The reddening of my ass didn't go without my whining, but it never turned into pleas or promises.

They put me next to my lawyer. I think he filmed the spanking on his cell phone. I wanted to deprive him of all the air he had sucked into his lungs and punch out the contents of his stomach, but it wasn't so much the burning ass that made me sit all crooked, that prevented me from doing so, but the rumbling of my own insides. There was no danger of me shitting myself because I had nothing to squeeze out of my ass. Instead of the heads of the people around me, I saw wieners, good with the mustard kind. Only their voice allowed me to recognize them. 

Before biting into the testifying mirage, I reminded myself that Daher was speaking. He was the only guy here whose name was associated with the title "agent" and yet he had no agency. He served as a speaker to the FBI lab, which confirmed as a neutral institution that my DNA was at the crime scene. The prosecutor asked him for my psychotype. Daher admitted that he thought I was an unthinking cunt with unnatural violent tendencies. 

 At least it didn't sound like anyone pitied me.

 The next speaker was gruff, but he had memorized more of the learned text than I would have guessed from his dull face. He described accompanying Shawn to the crisis that night. A group of delinquents created a security breach and a group of the Heirs used it to unleash even more chaos. Unfortunately, he reached Cruz too late, but not so late to see the blonde-haired assailant flee. He searched the area and on that occasion discovered a comatose colleague. He has never learned the name of the detained rebel. 

The message hidden between the lines suddenly revealed itself to me. Anyone who wants to testify that he saw someone other than me will point to himself as one of the insurgents.

The prosecution called their last witness. Dorothy. I didn't want to eat her, not the whole person. I wanted her liver with onions. I would cut her eyes as a part of a Greek salad. Of course, I would share with her...

Warden bowed separately to the prosecutor and the judge. She exercised her butt as she sat down, but ended up falling on the chair because someone in the audience gave her a severe shock.

"She killed him!" shouted Arnolph, rising from the ranks behind me. She waved her hand aggressively at the witness and raised her arms towards the heavens. She was standing between the two groups of attendants. I saw Agatha stifled laughter and hid her face in her lap. The women at her side did not refrain from the obvious satisfaction. 

"I went out then to see what had happened to the runaway youths, and I heard the demented voice of this being, this-"

The judge banged his gavel on the table. "Miss Arnolph, stop making a racket in the courtroom, or I'll have you escorted out despite your entrusted office!"

Arnolph clasped her hands and turned around. "I'm leaving myself. Mr. Prosecutor said I'm in league with murderers, but he's actually doing it himself, and you can be sure the Princeps will hear about it. As will Prefect Green if he doesn't already know it himself." She walked out of the courtyard, and the people gradually realized what had just happened. 

Dorothy recited her statement about how the suspected killer looked a lot like me. She sounded like the world's slowest phonograph. The defense did not want to question the witnesses, and the judge had no choice but to adjourn the case.   

Things changed in the cage – for better or worse. They took me to another cell. They served me a stuffed sausage and beer. I didn't even have to be naked anymore. I kept my court clothes and gained extra items, including pants. Unfortunately, they also pulled down my regenerators and left me lying in pain. The next evening, as soon as it had subsided, they came back for me with a wheelchair and drove my ass to the Daher in the interrogation room.

"In a tense time, it is almost impossible to deal with the female rebelliousness," he complained. "Miss Arnolph's emotional instability prompted Princeps to redouble his efforts to clarify all local crimes and ensure they are exemplified. He tapped his knuckles on the table. "I spoke to his office. I told them that you being guilty is not very likely and that the truth has strong political potential."

My relief with my mouth shut may sound like a vulgar sniff. A tough lady will stay tough.

 "I have met dozens of criminals and snatched evidence from the most notorious mafia bosses. Let me be part of the investigation. Put me in touch with your co-workers."

Daher showed me his eyes. Life and death alternated in them as if on a psychotype traffic light.

"I probably owe it to my colleague. Otherwise, I would never interrupt this blissful period when no woman gets in my way at work."

"You all act so manly," I laughed in a way that made it clear that I didn't mean to offend him. "At the same time, the first director of your police was a guy who liked to dress like a woman."

Daher raised his hand in disapproval. "That's slander and misunderstanding. J. Edgar Hoover was a masculine homosexual."

"And you are manly in every way?"

He looked at my face and a little lower.

"Absolutely – without exception."

"So the woman you decide to please wouldn't leave you unsatisfied?"

"Maybe you should ask my ex, but she's a lying hag."

"Please give me a practical demonstration of your skills!"

He leaned over me. "Miss Hamilton, you're still not well yet."

"The sight of a man like you heals me quickly."

It was necessary to make a good impression on him. I lifted myself slightly in the wheelchair and, despite his defensive instincts, unzipped his fly. He grabbed my elbows but didn't go any further. I pulled down his pants and let myself be excited by the electric shocks from the hair on his thighs. I moved closer to his knees. He freed my hips from my jeans and stroked my ass for a long time.

Together, we removed my coat and T-shirt. We got in each other's way but still perceived our passion, not our clumsiness. Thanks to the efforts of both of us, I stood before him wearing only stockings, a garter belt, panties, and a bra. Even so, I was much more dressed than when we first met. Daher must have been angry with me for that. [ ]()He turned me back to him, took my panties in both hands, and ripped them in two. I dared to a step, which I immediately regretted, and fell to the ground with my legs spread like a ballerina. I didn't want to spoil the sexy moment. I unbuttoned my bra and threw it on Daher's head. The agent laughed, picked me up by the shoulders, and laid me on the table[. ]()His eyes wandered between my freshly shaved pussy and liberated breasts. He was overplaying a bit when he pulled down his underwear. The mystery between us had diminished considerably. His wiener had turned into a long hard scepter.

"You can only touch what I see on you!" I told him. I must admit that I would have been impressed if the guy had not listened to me and taken what belonged to him half-undressed. But he, longing for my tits, took off everything from the waist up.

How could a woman be so stupid as to divorce him? I needed those abs to warm me up, and that chest invited me to lay my head on it. Natural bed for Daher's gorgeous bride. It's a pity that I'm supposed to be down now.

Daher bent at the waist and massaged my breasts with his strong hands. Sure, he touched them as if they were my control sticks. Yet I'm the one who drives hi – Oh my God, I was leaking between my legs! Daher bit my ear, and I felt his teeth working their way up to my auricle. I screamed in pain and pleasure, but not as loudly as when Daher's cock penetrated me. The torture injuries recurred, and each thrust caused me a moment of suffering. I decided not to complain. I loved the warmth and the body inside me.

"That's not all," whispered Daher, his hands all over me, my hands all over him. "I'll show you what I call the Feast of the Three Holes!"

Continues in part b.