Mavis & Amos 1
Lord Ashcroft stripped his eldest daughter Mavis, 40. She plodded barefoot naked thru the dung and mud to a nearby stable.
Mavis has an extraordinarily large rump. With 3+ inch sulci. Her chubs shuddered like puddings.
A wrinkled old codger (tautology!) in the Bridle Workroom was making boots for his great-granddaughter. She wears them - nothing else - for Milking Sissies.
He looked up. Grinned. "How much this time, lass?"
"Your discretion, Amos."
He drooled, grimaced.
"You'll suffer much, sadly. Over the saddle now, girlie. I must cord your big toes and thumbs to the trestle legs, mustn't I?"
"Yes, sir." He shuffled forward.
"Wait a tick. Wait a tick. I should finger your fine plump twat first, shouldn't I? Like always?"
Eyes blinking, tears. Humiliation. Terror. "Yes, sir."
Mavis has an extraordinarily large rump. With 3+ inch sulci. Her chubs shuddered like puddings.
A wrinkled old codger (tautology!) in the Bridle Workroom was making boots for his great-granddaughter. She wears them - nothing else - for Milking Sissies.
He looked up. Grinned. "How much this time, lass?"
"Your discretion, Amos."
He drooled, grimaced.
"You'll suffer much, sadly. Over the saddle now, girlie. I must cord your big toes and thumbs to the trestle legs, mustn't I?"
"Yes, sir." He shuffled forward.
"Wait a tick. Wait a tick. I should finger your fine plump twat first, shouldn't I? Like always?"
Eyes blinking, tears. Humiliation. Terror. "Yes, sir."
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