She Sits On My Face.

"The nobleman's clothes are bundled in the corner."As the man left, Ponkert entered and found his new attire spread across a chair. He chuckled to himself as he donned the rather gaudy black and white checkered trousers that fit him like tights. The loose blouse-like shirt, complete with puffed sleeves, was red. To top off the strange costume, there was a bright yellow cape, which he swirled to his shoulders with a flare that would have put Errol Flynn to shame.Feeling somewhat like a clown, but thoroughly enjoying the medieval garb, Ponkert slid his feet into black knee boots, then strode back down to the main room of the inn like a strutting rooster.The praises that came from Terri and Letti and their father seemed to be a little too much, but Ponkert didn't mind. Nor did his ego suffer as they led him to a wooden table and proceeded to array a feast of delectable meats and tasty vegetables before him. Although he couldn't identify one of them, the meat was fantastic; so was the. The thought of how angry she would be only increased his arousal. He reached down and began to play with himself.Lady Catherine observed his hand rubbing at his member.“Dammit, Collins, what are you doing?” she exploded, stopping her thrashing for a moment. “I do believe you’re enjoying this. Is there no end to your depravity?”“I’m sorry, your Ladyship,” whimpered Mr Collins, “but I don’t seem to be able to help myself.”“I can see a simple thrashing will not be enough,” said Lady Catherine. “Get down on the floor, on your knees. And keep both hands on the floor!”As Mr Collins did as he was instructed, whimpering slightly at the pain in his red-raw buttocks, Lady Catherine went to the desk and picked up an object which looked like a horse’s tail attached to a wooden handle.“My late husband had this made from the tail of Fanny, his favourite mare,” she explained. “Poor Fanny expired following a fall during the Boxing-Day hunt some years ago, but Sir Lewis wished for a memento. It is.
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