Oren Chervinsky February 1, at 1: As you are aware, a number of additional blogger sites picked up the story and continued with this important conversation, and I would like to thank you for bringing more light to this growing problem.
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This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.
He had a painfully firm grip on the back of my neck forcing my mouth downward until his cock head blocked my throat opening. Donaldson, sensing that his pecker had arrived at my esophagus, pushed harder and I felt that rock solid piston of man meat painfully descend another inch, scrapping the delicate tissue lining my gullet.
He lifted me up slightly by the back of my neck then violently forced my head down to drive his manhood another inch or two inside my neck.
His other hand grabbed me by the hair and I knew I was in for a good old-fashioned Donaldson family face fucking. My surviving it was problematic. Her brooding efforts had met with success.
There were six of us seated in the back of the stretch limousine: My husband, Captain Trace L. Donaldson had been traveling through the streets of Kabul when a mine had exploded under his Humvee. Trace and his driver were killed instantly according to the letter I got from his commander.
It was going to be a closed casket funeral. The Humvee had burned and several pieces of ordinance had exploded inside the cab.
My guess would be that the coffin contained a blend of both Trace and the driver. Thank God, it was going to be a private, invitation only affair.
They were rich too. British bayonets had gutted a Uriah Donaldson at Bunker Hill. Major Clement Donaldson had ended his days at Chickamauga, supposedly standing beside General Thomas, the Rock of Chickamauga until a mini-ball took off part of his skull.
There were others too numerous to recall. Equally devoted to the study of military tactics and the works of Marquis De Sade, they were a twisted lot. Trace used to say that his family considered arms their profession and pain their hobby. How did a nice girl like me from Lowell, Massachusetts get mixed up with this group of patriotic sadists?
My predilection for reaching an orgasm only after a sound flogging had brought Trace Donaldson and I together. As a result, I had a five-year commitment to patch up soldiers in whatever piss poor backwater the Army selected.
Over time, I learned that pain was the additive I required to blow the searing hot wind of sexual satisfaction through my brain.
The place was a dilapidated dump but once a month, a crowd gathered who could usually satisfy my needs. I was naked, strapped to a St. Andrews cross when Trace and two of his army buddies arrived. It had been an off night. I was leaving for training at Fort Campbell next week.
I had gone to the club hoping that some one with a talented whip hand would give me the discipline I craved. A pair of dommes had made an attempt at providing a decent flogging but I needed something stronger.
I was about to give up and ask to be released when Trace saw me.
He stepped up to the cross, leaned against me while taking my nipples in his powerful fingers and gave them the kind of twist that makes an ordinary woman scream and beg for mercy. When my mouth opened, he shoved his tongue inside all the while twisting my dugs to within a millimeter of separating from my tits.
To this day I can recall the pain in my breasts and feel my cunt get wet. After he manhandled the hell out of my breasts, he stepped back, selected a particularly nasty looking whip out of the rack and casually delivered a blow that struck only one inch of my body.
Unfortunately or fortunately as the case may be, that one-inch was my clit. It sounded like someone had fired a shotgun between my legs. For a nanosecond, I thought Trace had missed; then every synapse in my brain got a wake up call from all the thousands of delicate nerve endings located in that single inch.
The switchboard in my cerebellum went into overload and every muscle in my body convulsed. I let out a scream that brought the moribund crowd to the flogging room to see who was having their heart ripped out. Trace expertly whipped my tits and pussy until I climaxed, the kind of climax where you let everything go including your bladder.Dr.
Albert J. Fontaine, a Dunedin and Spring Hill orthodontist provides braces and tooth alignment for all ages. Dr. Fontaine is an Invisalign expert serving Clearwater, Brooksville and surrounding areas. All four captors, including his foster parents, Michael Schumacher and Kelly Layne Lau, were sentenced to 30 years in prison for a number of offenses — including child abuse, false imprisonment, and torture using a bat, knife, and belt, 9 News reported.
The Associated Press delivers in-depth coverage on today's Big Story including top stories, international, politics, lifestyle, business, entertainment, and more. A couple have been arrested for violently beating their four adopted children and forcing them to perform sex acts in a disturbing catalogue of abuse which police say amounts to torture.
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