Erotic Fellatio From India

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I WANT TO GO HOME!"My new mother smothered me in a hug and tried to soothe me. "You arehome, Samantha. It's all right, it's all right, shh..." she told meover and over until I calmed down. She sat me down at the foot of mynew bed while I finished sniveling. Maybe she would be nice after allI thought. My old parents would just call me a sissy and a baby when Ibroke down like that and tried to explain what was happening to me butMrs. Donovan had calmed me down and soothed me like... I stopped cryingsuddenly and tried to act like the boy I was claiming to be...she hadsoothed me like I was a little girl having a fit."Samantha," she addressed me.I interrupted and tried to explain myself again. This time I kept myemotions in check. "My name is Jimmy and I'm a boy. I want to changeout of these clothes now. My sister makes me wear them. I neverwanted to." SAMANTHA ANNE DONOVAN!" she shouted. "You do not interrupt yourmother, ever. I know all about your little sister and you don't. “Oh please keep slapping my tits hard! I love it. Make them red please?” There was a mix of pure lust and desperation in her voice now. She was pleading with him to hurt her more. She’s always been a good slut. I then heard another loud slap and Laura letting out a loud whine. “Shut the fuck up whore. You get what your given and be thankful for it.” I heard another few slaps and a lot of moaning from Laura. “Now it’s about time I fucked this tight pussy of yours isn’t whore?”“Yes! Yes please! Fill me with this massive cock of yours. I need it now!”I listened closely as the guy began grunting. And Laura was panting and whimpering. “Jesus this bitch isn’t that tight. You weren’t wrong about her being a well used slut.”“Told you man. She’ll ram anything into that pussy of hers if she thinks it could get her off. “ I couldn’t help but smile as I had seen some of the stuff she had used first hand. “Please just keep fucking sliding that meat inside me. Get it balls deep. Fuck. Fuck..
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He stops.I catch my breath. I see him on my right side now. I shudder. It will be my front now. He draws his arm back and strikes, before I can close my eyes. I scream. My right breast is on fire. The crop hit the top of my mound. I cannot help it and look down, to see the angry red stripe, crossing the front of my breast. He pauses, to let it sink. I know the drill; nine more on my right breast; the last three on the sensitive areola and the last one smack on the nipple. Again the crop falls, and again I scream; two stripes cross my breast, then three, then four; each one closer to my nipple; each one more painful, my screams more shrill, more pitiful. The fifth takes my breast at the bottom, where it joins my chest, then the sixth and the seventh. Sweat mixes with my tears. I have lost count, but Parker reminds me."The last three" He tells me, letting the anticipation build.I am trembling in fear. He strikes, I scream. The top of my pink areola bears now a red stripe. A pause, I.

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