She heard the whip dropped across the iron brace of the beam. Its sound, stiff leather on wood, clipped the air softly and died, belying the power, th... sting. The long dreaded end had come along with the end of the song. Sweat stung her eyes. The room smelled of it, mixed with the aroma of fragrant oil, fresh leather, scented candles, polished wood, and his musk. Padded steps of bare feet approached from behind. He leaned against her, and she hissed a breath at the burn of his sweat against. Is it still growing? It will if you stroke it, murmured her uncle in a strained voice. Her slender fingers fluttered hesitantly over the bulging material of his trousers and he groaned softly with pleasure. That feels so nice Nastia, dont stop. The innocent youngster stared in fascination as her uncles body jerked in response when she casually stroked his trouser front. He groaned with frustration and tried to press her hand more firmly against his aching erection. She shook his hand away. More

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