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Synopsis

Brooke Strand was sent by her employers, the Pray Pals, to establish a trade link with a group of independent growers. Once she discovers the elaborate "fertility rituals" they partake in, however, both she and the Pray Pals are eager to end the relationship. But when she announces this decision, the indies decide to show her just how obscene they can be!

Warning: This story contains bondage, whipping, and anal sex. For adults only!
 

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    The two burly men picked her up bodily and one held her in place while the other forced her limbs apart, binding her so she was spread eagled on the rectangular frame, her feet locked in place and her arms stretched out painfully. Producing a small but sharp blade, the first man sliced her top and skirt off of her body, making Brooke gasp and leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

    She struggled slightly as the men stepped away but only succeeded in making her shoulders ache dully. Looking around apprehensively, she saw that the crowd still surrounded her, eyes gleaming at her humiliation. Tilting her chin defiantly, Brooke squared her throbbing shoulders.

    “You’re all disgusting,” she spat at the indies, who leered at her. Her attention was suddenly drawn to her right, where a man stepped forward from the throng. He was tall and slim, lean muscle rippling under the tawny skin of his bare chest. After a moment, Brooke recognised him as the same man she had seen earlier, in the very position she now found herself in. Nervous anticipation trickled down Brooke’s spine as she saw the short but sturdy leather whip in his hand.

    “We’re not disgusting,” he said quietly, his gaze holding hers captive. “We’re artists.”

    He strode behind her, beyond her range of vision, and Brooke tensed, waiting for the crack she was sure was inevitable. She jumped when the thick handle of the whip was thrust between her legs instead, rubbing against her pussy.

    “I will teach you to appreciate our art,” the man’s voice whispered in her ear, his hand running down her side and over her hip. Brooke felt a tingle run through her body, despite her trepidation. “You’ll see that you’re no better than us.”

    The thick switch snaked beneath her panties and rubbed its length hard against her pussy. Despite herself, Brooke felt dampness spread between her legs. She clenched her thighs musces, trying to suppress the sensation, but the man had already noticed. With a triumphant cry, he held the whip aloft, wet with her juices, and the mob roared in response.

    Brooke felt her face burn with shame. This was exactly what the indies wanted – to see her humiliated. They were obscene, they revolted her… yet she was enjoying it.

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