Fir woh rote hue boli ki maine kai baar samjhaya hai woh nhk maante maine moke ka faayda uthaya aur bola ki kya main kuch madad karu woh fir mere kand...e pe sir rakh k rone lagi maine unhe chup karaya woh boli ki tum bahot ache ho tumahari wife bahota lucky hai maine pucha kaise toh woh boli ki tum dono toh roz hr karte ho usne mujhe bataya tha main ekdum se bola ki aap bhi roz kar sakti ho woh boli kaha tere bhaiya ko sharab se furssat ho tab toh kare maine keh diya main hun na fir jab humari. Before I knew it, Ophelia slapped me again. This time with her right hand. “Don't you dare flinch,” Ophelia said. Then she faked with her right hand and slapped me again with her left. Both my cheeks were stinging. “I can’ wait to get you into the dungeon and begin helping Mistress Flavia beat you properly,” Ophelia said. “Now kneel by the table.” Then, Ophelia held up a long black whip, with an exquisitely plaited black handle and long thin leather tails. “Mistress Flavia had this special whip. I admit to wanking over the same stories many many times, on my quieter visits to the cottage. Many of the stories featured graphic, blatant kinky sex, and some were more generalised. There wasn’t much gay talk – it can all be described as sex, but not featuring males as much as females / girls.There were big pictures almost expertly drawn, often depicting girls with huge boobs in stockings and suspenders and high heels being kept busy by lots of falsely sized cocks. There were drawn pictures. I was searching through the rubble of small city, the name no longer matter, human history had come to an unknown end. This city was in ruins, evidence of explosions, possibly from bombing, possibly a nuclear weapon. There was enough remaining evidence that this was the scene of battle between humanity and whatever had destroyed them. Again at this time I did not know it was machines, sentient, intelligent machines. In the distance I heard a low, consistent humming. The humming level.