Emma landed the sixth stroke just under the previous five, smiling to herself as she watched the six almost parallel red wheals.“Six,” shouted out...the cheerful schoolgirls. Jack was still crying as he grasped the sides of the tables and felt his chest heave. It was the worst caning he had ever received. By far. However, he told himself this was still better than an adult court where he would have got a large fine and some points on his Licence. More importantly it really taught him that he must. Working my way up to the lobe of her ear. I see the response flash from the person on the other end. I pay it no mind, my focus on the woman right here, as I'm nibbling her ear. "You had better answer him", I softly say. As if she was hit by lightning, a shudder took hold of her. "Are you sure?" she questioned.The only correct answer I could give in this situation was pressing my rock hard cock into her side. "Oh, well!", she softly exclaimed.Standing there softly kissing and nibbling her. .. at the bar... even in the dining room. She started giggling as she thought of Madge Turner, the fifty-ish spinster at her school who was the terror of all kids who even tried to hold hands in the halls. She envisioned Madge, sprawled on a bed, with a young man who looked uncomfortably like Chuck, rutting between her legs, while Madge screamed for him to fuck her like she deserved to be fucked. Her giggles turned to laughter, and she couldn't stop. She had to sit down, and almost choked on. Through dryness. Hammering at my cervix. Tearing at my inner walls. Stretching me. Filling me. Fucking me. Relentless. Mirthless. Driving again and again into my inner softness. Uncaring in its demands. Uncaring of the tears that decorate my bruised and glowing face. Uncaring of the ragdoll shaking of my shoulders, the forced gasping breaths, my bouncing breasts, the heaving of my stomach, the twisted writhing of my entirety. Uncaring, my fingers clinging to its rough smooth surface as it.