It wasn't right! No! It couldn't be!
Why? Why would her body betray her in such a manner?
"Yes! Moan for these good men, slut!" Zarah kept on tapping Arabella's face at times then slapping her hard out of the blue at others.
But those weren't moans she was giving! Those were cries of sorrow! whimpers of despair as General Morris rearranged her insides.
"I can last all day long, bitch!" he groaned in her ear, "I will fuck this tight little cunt of yours until you cum all over me. If you don't, I am not pulling this sword out of you,"
And he enacted that threat by doubling in intensity, hammering until the sound of clapping drowned the muffled whispers that her pussy murmured when sliding up and down his wet cock.
General Harold allowed her not a second of rest either, swirling his filthy tongue around her erect and tingling nipples.
Why? Why did it have to be that way? How could her body afford an orgasm in such an insulting context?
