They were such fools. So pointless.Through it all the was the lust. The need. Long nights in her bed thrashing and sweating. Legs spread wide with fak... cocks plunging into her very core. She even had a special one that she ordered off a store on the Internet. Very big, very long, almost the size of his. That was her favorite. She would start with lesser ones. Human ones. But she would end with it. Pushing it in so deep it hurt. Stabbing into her pussy and even her ass. Wishing he was driving it. ## Scene 2The attic of the Summers residence. Dawn is completely naked and gagged. Her hands are bound together with a rope fixed to the ceiling. Buffy is wearing her mistress uniform: a short, tight black dress, black stockings, and black high heels. The outfit does not include any underwear. Buffy is mercilessly beating Dawn's ass with a riding crop, only occasionally pausing to admire her work and to "massage" Dawn's red buttocks.Dawn: Ouch! Ouch!! My butt! I wish I were a masochist.. Still,. Bet it makes you wet to think about it, you whisper again as you kiss high on my jaw. My periodic moans have become a chorus now with each word, each touch of your warm lips on my skin; my attention is completely on the kissing and I don’t even realize your fingers have manipulated the leg band of my panties and slipped your hand under them to touch my bare pussy until I feel your finger slip between my folds and begin a rhythm of in and out into my now completely drenched pussy.I am beyond. Rhythmic. Rhythmic. Throb. Throb. Dribble slops onto my twitching penis, it is already wet and frothy, it is becoming spastically erect as my brain is gently lobotomised. Head twitches. Hands still grasp and scrabble at the ring. Grasp-grasp. Throb. Throb. Scrabble-scrabble. Throb. Throb. Hands become jerky and spastic. Throb. Throb. Hands fall to sides. Brain is being cooked. Throb. Throb. Babbling turns into long, frothy gurgles. Brain cleansed of knowledge of how to make words. I try to beg.