This was not at enema meant for those interested in the slow and sensuous. This was a tool of torture. “I’ll let you out when we get to my friend’s house,” Miranda said. “Hang tight until then, okay? Thanks for being a good sport. Love you, baby.” She gave the microphone a kiss, then turned it off and threw it into her purse. As the enema slowly poured down into Tom’s ass, Miranda went back for the plastic box still sitting in the bathroom. She took it to the bedroom and set it on the floor next to the suitcase. She opened it, and her nose crinkled at the stench that immediately struck her. The box was filled with panties, socks and stockings, and it all reeked of old sweat, piss, and feminine musk. The socks and stockings were encrusted with dried sweat and grime, the panties looked like they had been worn for far too many days in a row, and everything was covered in a variety of suspicious stains. It had taken weeks of careful clothing management to get such a ripe stench, but the result spoke for itself. The smell was undeniably foul, yet also remarkably feminine. It was an inherently sexual sort of disgusting. Miranda had a hard time putting it into words. Miranda opened the steel box that Tom’s breathing tube ran through, then unceremoniously dumped the dirty laundry inside. She quickly closed the box, then latched it shut, and finally let out a sigh of relief once the stench faded away. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live with that terrible stink. She could barely handle less than a minute of it. By this point, the bag was just about empty. She watched the last bit of enema swirl down the tube. Once that was done, she disconnected the bag from the suitcase, put everything through a quick rinse in the sink, and set it all back inside the cupboard. Miranda then walked back into the bedroom, gave the suitcase one final once-over, and nodded. “Finally good to go.” She closed the clamshell lid and zipped the suitcase shut, then pushed it onto its rollers and pulled it across the bedroom floor, down the hallway, through the living room, and across the driveway, where with a hard heave Miranda managed to push the suitcase into the trunk. There were D-rings fixed across the trunk’s inner walls. It was a recent addition that she had gotten installed after she had become frustrated with how difficult it was to keep things inside the trunk tied down. Or, in other words, how difficult it was to keep one specific person tied down. Miranda threaded thick tie-down straps through the D-rings and wrapped it all around the suitcase. Once everything was tightened, Tom’s suitcase was about as immobile as it could get, short of her taking out the ready-mix concrete. Miranda slammed the trunk shut. Miranda slid into the driver’s seat and started the amateur engine. It came to life with Solo a roar. Before heading out, Miranda plugged a handheld MP3 player into the car’s phone charger, then connected the MP3 player to the microphone through a usb cord. After a minute of fiddling, Miranda had something for Tom to listen to during the long drive. Of course, she didn’t keep any music indian on that MP3 player. It was filled with audio scraped from the hardest femdom-style corporal masturbation punishment videos she could find on the internet. Miranda’s past experiences had shown there was hardly anything that better set the mood than the sound of men crying out in pain as they were whipped, caned, and paddled. But I’m here, and I can’t rewind the clock. “Yes.” She responded impatiently, throwing her t-shirt to the floor. Shields of rocks, the mighty bowels of the earth, rose to defend him. “It’s just something we both want to explore together. His guns aiming all over the hostages. Again there was a Medic standing there to decide when the girl orgasmed. Just masturbation then, Tiffany started to scream as Joe shoved into her further. She read correctly what I was doing, but evidently gave me a great deal of credit for even trying in contrast to the very rude behavior of many of my contemporaries of this era. "So what you're telling me is that amateur we could fuck over and over again, but just as long as we're doing it during one of my 'safe times,' it still won't get me pregnant?" She shook with another spasm. She looked at them, “follow me”, the three headed for the office. Then I took his hard cock in my hand which is thick and long his cock it’s may be at least 9 inches. Carl looked at Abigail's corpse for a few minutes, now lay on the bed, dressed only down to her black lace see through bra lifting her breast up and a matching tiny lacy black French cut panties hugging her pelvis tightly. Her butt wiggled against Solo his crotch, making it ever so slightly hard. Farming accidents, disease, famine, natural disasters, you name it, it kills people in Towerhead. - You still have indian 10 minutes ... Having never tasted cum before, Her mouth sucked with hunger. “Oh, Daddy, yes, yes.” He heard Kat walk away without another word.