My Indian Collection

Then the pain hit me as gravity did its job. The rubber ball stopped suddenly, bouncing against my trembling mound, the lead weight actually striking my throbbing clit, tightening the clamps on my nipples. What I had felt before had been nothing compared to the pain that flowed like electricity through me. I began jerking in my bounds, twisting and turning, like a boneless ballerina, suspended in place. All I could think of was somehow tearing the metal clips from my nipples. I cried, I begged, I pleaded, but she showed no mercy, instead falling back in the chair and, yanking her underwear to one side to expose her cunt, began to vigorously work her clit until her cries joined mine; sounds of pleasure and pain mingling in the small room, becoming an erotic symphony.“Oh my God, yes!”I was aware that she climaxed, not once, but twice while I writhed before her in extreme pain and, even worse, frustration as I prayed for her to take me over the edge with her. The third time she came was. Nothing worked.His mother and father had said they loved him, even as they beat him when they caught him torturing some of the animals. He hadn’t meant to kill his mother. She’d been nice to him. She’d even laid with him – laid with him more than she’d even laid with his father. Of course, he couldn’t let the whore keep his baby. It wouldn’t do; it would invite the whole town to look into his business.He’d only meant to knock her unconscious; he figured he could knock her unconscious and then just pound her in the stomach a bit and she’d lose the baby. It wasn’t his fault she’d fallen and hit her head on the stones of the hearth. He’d rushed to her – but it was too late. He’d watched as her gray eyes turned cold and dead. It was his first human kill but it taught him nothing new.His father he’d meant to kill. When the old man had come home and found his wife dead, he’d started beating on him with a switch; he should have chosen a different place to do the beating. The knife was right.
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