It had to be more than 10 inches of hardened iron.“Get on your knees, whore.”“Please, please.”His foot lurched out, colliding with my thigh. T...e pain lurched inside my leg. I rolled off the mattress on the floor, rose onto my knees, gazing up at his hooded face.“If you don’t refrain from polluting the air with your fucking voice, I’ll beat the ever-loving shit out of you. Do you enjoy pain, if you do nod, if not shake your head?”I shook my head.“Open wide, cunt.”My heart raced beating in my. Damien finds himself not walking away from the tent, but instead on his knees, peeking into the tent. “You sure you want to go in dry?” Desiree playfully asks. “Hmm..I guess I can wait.” Harper says, as she pulls her pants down, finally unleashing her thick crimson cock. Desiree leans forward, grabs it and takes a lick.“Always good to moisturize, right?” Harper says“Pfffttt…hahahahaha!” Desiree drunkenly laughs.“These girls are a mess!” Damien whispers to himself. “Alright, come to mama” Harper. ”“You know I disagree with you on that. I don’t see myself as a victim.”“And yet, you were. Of your mother, and to an extent, of your sister. But also of yourself. And the recognition of that last one - that you were a victim of your own actions, was YOUR key to recovery. You weren’t a rapist, Steve. Yes, the law might say otherwise, but you weren’t. Not in your mind. Not in her mind. And those are the ONLY two minds that matter from a counseling perspective. In fact, she blamed herself for. Her hands cupped her bounteous breasts and rubbed them together."Kiss 'em!" shrieked a male voice.Jennifer paused, then squeezed her boobs together. As the flesh bulged upwards she planted a kiss. Then licked.She felt like a whore. But parading like a whore was better than the alternative.Her hands reached down as she half-turned. Gently she squeezed her butt cheek. As she did so she gave a little wiggle. Could she use her body to entice the men some how? To make them sympathise with.