Suddenly I feel two warm, clammy hands slipping over my shoulders. I look up and there's Raymond above me, his big head leaning to one side, his eyes ...aking in my body from this new angle. His sausage-like fingers slip lower to cup my breasts and I gasp involuntarily. The feeling of his sweaty palms on my nipples coupled with that look of power and lust in his eyes ignite my fire. I'm too scared to push his hands away. Too scared and... shit! The truth is I don't want him to stop. How can I be. ”He gripped her tits hard, and he began to slam his fat prick into her cunt hard, and brutally…. he wasn’t in the least bit gentle. He rammed into her as hard as he could. She could feel the jarring impact of his hairy ball sac, each time her trust on her upturned ass. There was no passion, Scott was simply using her like a worthless whore. She knew that the only thing he cared about was his own pleasure, and her humiliation.“Yeah…. you’re a great fuck,” he moaned. “You fucking know how to. As to possible virginities, he would have bet his life that no female between the ages of twelve and sixty had escaped rape in the sacking of Tradagha.The woman on the sale block at the moment was a sorry sight. She was weeping copiously, and the overseers had had to whip her before she would stand still with her hands at her sides so that the buyers could see her. With her abaya removed for the actual sale, she revealed pale but sagging breasts, and a small amount of straggly pubic hair which. The sublimity of the artistic moment, it must be noted, is that in the frozen time of the painting the young girl is never exploited: she is only about to become thus violated. Each time I stared at the round, slightly plump, and pleasantly short figure of Miss Gilda, I seemed to be ensnared in this very same moment.It is to be supposed, I think, that each woman knew that I was merely using them for the ends of my own ambition. But when we moved into that house we all seemed happy enough. Even.