Each punch landed a bit lower.Slowly, relentlessly, she kept punching my balls. Hard enough to make me grunt, not hard enough to do any real damage, b...t hard enough to make me feel nauseated. I could tell she was really having fun, but she was really hurting me and I wanted her to stop.“Please, Mistress Victoria.”“Quiet. I’m going to punch your balls and there’s nothing you can do about it” she announced.So she kept slowly bashing away at my balls. She’d trap my cock with her left glove, and. He stared at her hand and wondered when she had replaced the black gloves that once again encased her dexterous digits. The man placed his large hand in the woman's small one and she led him from the chapel.She led him swiftly through the halls and corridors of the dimly lit opera house. Their path seemed to lead them higher and higher. As they passed a rack of costumes, Christine paused and released Erik's hand. She selected two heavy, fur-lined, winter cloaks and indicated that Erik should do. It was three months ago on the train from Manchester to York. He had been on his way home from the teachers’ convention that he had expected so much of, but turned out to be quite tedious and disappointing. He recalled how he had run across the platform, hurrying to catch the train, even though there would be another one fifteen minutes later. It was just that he had been so eager to get out of the city and go back home to his loving wife Margaret and the school in their village where the. Still on my knees and trying to clean up the cum and sweat from my face I did not immediately get up to my feet but simply pulled myself up to the bench and sat down. As I did I looked up toward the restroom and noticed the shadow of a man standing on the side of the building so as to be out of sight of the trail but in full sight of my temporary boudoir. The halogen light had just come on and in that light I could see it was my black friend and in his hand he held a rock hard cock. Stroking.