Starved Beast

I closed my eyes, and I recalled my long tranquil evenings with Isabelle after I'd begun spending her money: servants pampering to our every desire, plush rooms with spacious fireplaces, all bequeathed to me as an inheritance from the traveler and her gold.

God, how beautiful Isabelle had been: healthy, well fleshed: every naked inch of her a lady, just as Christine was now. "I had money," I muttered, twisting my finger inside Christine's anus.

"Please, monsieur! I beg you! Torment me! Force me to bend to your will!"

"I had property, a pretty wife ... And then it was gone, lost forever."

"But now you have me," Christine groaned, grinding her teeth to subdue a flood of emotion.

"Yes," I thought, jabbing my finger deep into her hole, doing so to hurt her, and her ass rocked and trembled each time that I did it. "Yes, I have you..."

But she said nothing more. She was eager to please, almost the demure little whore apprenticed to a client.

I liked that.

There was also a pleasing curve to