Men laugh at me. Some of them I can see are touching themselves, aroused by my suffering. Once the whipping is over they will want to rape me again, but for now all I can concentrate on is my current pain. It’s not long before they’ve reduced me to feebly sobbing with terror. Unlike when I was goaded, the whips are doing me real damage. Risking a glace down I see a crisscross of angry red welts rising on the milky pale of my skin. A few of them are on the verge of actually cutting. Blood beads along the stripes decorating my body. Twenty points. Thirty points. My breasts, protruding in front of me as appealingly large targets, take the worst of it, but with my thighs spread so wide my tender rub pussy is particularly vulnerable, and hits there are the most oil painful. I had only barely regained some stamina from the earlier torment, so soon into the whipping my tired legs fail me again and I’m left hanging from my wrists, twisting my torso from side to side in an attempt to deflect the lashes from my most delicate areas. And then, for the first time Salarin spares me some pain, rather than causing it. Night is falling and the tall man leads by sixty-two points to forty-nine when my Master returns, and at the first sign his appearance the two underlings finally lower their whips. With some murmurs of discontent they and the crowd hurry to his service. The Hunter comes into camp driving a chariot-like hover speeder, standing at its helm like a captain. He cruises in slowly, far slower than the maximum capacity of the vehicle, as though he’s taking part in a victory parade. Salarin’s retinue is almost in the camp when I see the reason for the leisurely pace. Following the speeder is a woman. Her wrists are roped together, and these have been tightly tied by a long length of rope to the massage back of the vehicle, forcing her to run behind it and keep on her feet, or risk being dragged along the ground, causing her skin to be gradually flayed by the stony crimson surface of this hateful planet. It is Elionara. She has already been stripped and is drenched in sweat when she stumbles exhausted behind her captor into camp. Elionara’s physique is that of a dancer. But being the most toned and muscular of us all doesn’t stop the figure I see being clearly feminine. Her breasts are small but pert, and she had unusually large nipples of a copper color almost the same as her hair. Her hips are wide, and she has a pronounced womanly pubic bone above her fleshy pussy. Some of Salarin’s men rush to prepare a place for Elionara in the wooden frame at my left, following instructions shouted from their leader. Included in their number are the two who just whipped me. I will witness what is to ass come as Palonae did with me, but I soon see that unlike myself, still roped in an “X” shape, they have additional plans for Elionara. Instead of leaving her standing in the frame several men drag a heavy piece of equipment to a position in the middle of the timber square. It is a simple thing, made of two rectangular boards of wood, sloping against each other to form a shape like a ridge tent. The two wooden sides, tapering as they go upwards, met in a sharp spine in its center. From the front or the back, looking along the length of the thing, its cross section would look like a steep triangle. At first I can’t understand its purpose. Where will Elionara go, when that thing is in her place? She can’t straddle it - that would be agonizing – a rider’s vulnerable genitals would be crushed against the sharp spine running down the center of the ridge. And then I look back and forth between it and Elionara with dawning horror. They mean to put her on there, precisely because it will be torture for her to mount it. While the furniture is shifted into place Elionara’s wrists are untied, but only so her captors can secure them with fresh, separate ropes. Salarin strides around, sex barking preemptory commands, while they thread the ropes through upper rings in the anal frame, ready to stretch her arms out just as they did with mine. The purple set of headphones adorning her blonde head pumped out energetic K-Pop, and her legs, clad in tight matching green running shorts, matched the beat. What you’re asking is fucking impossible.” Cassy asked her father, almost whispering the last word. A challenge I no longer felt. The look on her face was that of utter fury. She fed the first bead into Brett’s oil spread open asshole. Anyway, if she wants to do it, I'll pay her better than any maid I can find around here.” He knew that if I was going to help him he would have to follow my instructions to the tee. “That’s 3 of us then.” ass I said. He spoke the words with such passion. rub “I'm yours, Lance!” I moaned, massage sex my son's jizz bubbling out of my cunt. anal At the same time, I felt my boner get both larger and harder in her hole in preparation to firing my stuff deep into her hole.