As he keeps fucking me he grabs my hard clit and starts to use it like a handle to pull my taught but weak body towards him, into his thrust. I start...d babbling, “Fuck me daddy! Fuck me daddy! Fuck me daddy! Each thrust of his cock into me breaking my speech and taking the air from my lunges. He was b**st fucking me and I loved it. I wanted this to never stop, but the more my simple mind embraced this raging cock inside me the more my body quaked. I raised my head and looked down at my clitty. She loved the way he moved, both when free and when laden down with heavy chains. She loved the way he talked, when he tried to express his thoughts and dreams, when he struggled in fear to give honest answers to her interrogations and still avoid punishments, and even the gurgling mmpphhhs that he forced out around gags. She knew, in her love of him, that he still tried to reject what he was, what she had help make him, and while that conflict in his mind made his humiliations all the more. As she unzipped me, it was my turn to gasp. She took hold of my erection…..not too hard to find in that condition, and drew it out. The head was but inches from the front of her knickers, not that I believe she was even thinking along those lines. Simply the contact of her small hands with that most sensitive piece of equipment was achieving wonders both physiologically and emotionally. Whether by instinct – it definitely wouldn’t have been by experience – or by sheer good fortune, she began to. She stood up and emptied her brown backpack. It was full of glasses and a few cocktail umbrellas. She’d once had a large collection of the tiny umbrellas; now just a few survived. Seeing the man looking, she said she’d need more time to could explain them.The man nodded and sat again, gathering his glasses and slipping them into his pack. The woman did the same but took one cocktail umbrella and put it behind an ear and smiled. It felt good. For a while, they read in silence. Then, at the same.