Mavis & Amos 3

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

A wicked new cane sliced the air. Mavis farted in terror.

Amos gave her Twice-9. Of the Best.

Each deliberate stroke elicited ululant screams. Raising yellowish-purple welts from sulci to Fannychub top.

The grizzled stableman has "done" Mavis for decades. Nearly 24 years of utter agony.

  

Drenched in sweat, she panted, gasped, snorted, whinnied.

A stableboy parted her trembling Fannychubs wide.

Exposing a large pink deeply-sunken, tightly-clenched anus.

Amos applied a generous dollop of orange ointment inside.

She croaked as his huge prickhead entered. And slowly slid in.

He fully withdrew, started again.

I squatted at her face. Red, swollen, sweaty, snotty, drooling.

Lord Ashcroft carried her indoors.

I gave her a 2.5 liter Enema.











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