Each brush stroke was a searing thread leaving a delicate line of blood red. He ruthlessly prepared his canvas; moving up my back in increments until ...e reached my shoulders. My arms and hands were indiscriminately marked as well. In the end, he would break me. Then, from raw flesh Master would create a beautiful work that pleased him.I was weeping openly now, wheezing and sobbing with the pain-- Master's pain, his gift to me. The leash was slack now. His hands rubbed the raised welts on my. "Ohgodohgodohgod," she moaned as she put her hands on the back of the boy's head and mashed his face into her throbbing gash, getting ready to cream again. Billy's hands squeezed the girl's big tits and kneaded them like bread dough and got her hardening nipples between his fingers, pinching until she squealed in pain. He knew he had her and felt himself getting rigid and ready, bubbling out pre-cum, knowing it was wrong but knowing her had to bone her. He was ready, eager, merciless. She was. More

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