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A puddle had formed between her widely stretched legs where she had urinated. As her cries had slowed, she became more possessed with sobbing, and Peter stepped forward. Reaching behind her bowed head, he unfastened the buckle of the straps holding the gag in her mouth. Pulling, he removed the shaft of the gag from between her lips, and stood back, holding the quirt in one hand, the rubber cock gag in the other. Susan’s body hung limp in her bonds, her weight being born entirely by her wrists, spreadwidely and high above her. Her body racked with sobbing, her blonde head hanging, she moaned occasionally, and Peter watched closely, her suffering. When her sobbing had quieted a bit, he moved and standing directly in front of her, lifted her chin with one hand, holding the quirt in front of her face with the other, said nothing. Susan, feeling her head being lifted, opened her eyes. She saw the tiny whip in front of her and suddenly realized what was expected. She blinked away the tears. "Fuck you up", she said, "fuck you up good, white boy." "Give it to me", I said. "I'm giving it to you. I'm fucking you up. Aaaaaaaaaah! Fuck! Fuck!" Once she got off me I went back to eating her pussy. I spread those legs of hers and dipped my tongue into that pink flesh. Cynthia took screaming to another level. She screamed at the top of her lungs that the whole city might have heard her. "Love eating that pussy", she moaned, "keep eating my pussy. Fucking eat it. Aaaaaaaaaaah! Fuck! Fuck! Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Aaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah! Eat that pussy. Eat my fucking pussy. Fuuuuuuuuck!" .
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