He jerked and squealed. “You filthy boy!” she spat, giving his stirring cock another flick of the
crop. XXX She could hide her whole middle finger in her slit and
for a farthing, she’d let others do it too. She continued to stare at it, watching it erect and climb
vertically upwards. “You two can leave,” she told them. “Well, of course Mr Worthington. Always willing to please a patron, Miss Marchant had arranged for Miss
Greta Foulds to recruit a suitable child for his entertainment. Blubbering and weeping, the boy begged her not too. Then it was a
slow lift, one that bared her legs first, her young thighs wrapped
prettily in soft woollen stockings, pink ribbon weaved through their hem
to help hold them up. As she’d done with
