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JULIA “Diamond, Lucilla, God.” I said to myself reflexively as I readjusted the grip of the whip. It was a heinous device, not at all meant for kinky exploits; this was for torture. Lucilla’s body was crisscrossed with welts, each raised line dotted with blood that began to amateur trickle down her body. I wanted to do worse. Every time I struck her, every time I heard her agonized wail, a memory swam forth, a memory of blackened faces, contorted in agony. Only now, the memory didn’t produce waves of regret, but an odd… exciting familiarity. I could do that to people. Not only could I make them feel great pain, but I could change them, mutilate them, disfigure them. I felt the public arousal growing between my legs, felt the tightening in my loins, the aching in my nethers… but no; the Holy Mother would not want me to make abstractions of her creations. Lucilla was owed the penance for her crimes, and though her beauty certainly enabled her to sin, tits disfiguring her would not be a fitting retribution. Her flesh was her weakness, so I would punish the places I knew she enjoyed. Her belly, her breasts, her backside. When that was finished, we would delve into more… intimate places. Despite her cries for mercy, Lucilla’s penchant for roughness betrayed her. Her thighs were wet with her want, and her pussy was a swollen, red flower that contrasted the paleness of her complexion. “Julia!” Lucilla screamed, her eyes puffy, her body straining against the binds, “It’s me!” “I am aware asian of who you are, Lucilla.” I chuckled, “You don’t need to keep reminding me. Now, was it the wash boy, or the stable hand that you had out-of-wedlock intercourse with when you were fifteen?” “Julia, please stop!” Lucilla sobbed, her chin falling to her chest. “The wash boy, or the stable hand?” I asked her. “The wash boy.” Lucilla whimpered. One lash across the left breast sent her head reeling back, and her body wrenching into an arch. “It was both!” Lucilla shrieked. I nodded to the Breytan beside Lucilla, and she Hardcore applied ointment to the fresh strike, rewarding Lucilla for her honesty. Lucilla groaned in relief, and grinded her thighs together. She couldn’t help herself, the slut. How had I ever loved this woman? She had no self-control, and no self-respect. What a waste of a bind. Still, she was young. Twenty-one wasn’t too old to change. “Excuse me miss” Susan said. I bet tits she could feel me smirking against her ass. "It is yes Mistress. She was full bodied and drew whistles and stares from public many men even though she wasn't a runway model. Our youngest son asked if he could spend the weekend with one of his friends. “That’s definitely not what I said!” I answered quickly. Stabs. Unfortunately, she had a difficult pregnancy—experiencing morning sickness almost every day during asian her second trimester. I want to cum! To be honest she looked nice with or without amateur glasses. trouble. I saw his lips were moving but I couldn’t hear any sound coming out. How would I- the clash of steel rang across the valley, and the entire world suddenly shifted. Aimee Hardcore returned with her sweatshirt top still on and her shorts below, covering up her bathing suit underneath. “Where's the fun in that?” she asked.