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01/22/12(Sun)21:34 No.33531171
File1327286041.png-(58 KB, 505x355, Sing me the song of rape.png)
 "Next, when you're certain the bitch's not got any tricks up her coot, you make sure she's healthy'n all, otherwise you really should pop on a rubber. For your own protection, mind you. Some right filthy folk out there." Forcing Palette's legs open, Break-In judged her nether as if it was a prime cut of meat. "Mm. Nice colour. Healthy 'n pink. Could use a shower." Closing her legs again, he leaned back, still ever holding the mare's hind hooves high above.
"Now it's all about gettin' comfortable, see. You've gotta really get into the gig, else you'll be walkin' away with a half-finished game and a black taste of blue balls in yer mouth. You don't like the taste of balls, do you?" At Spyglass's nervous shake of his head, Break-In nodded in satisfaction. "But, we need a plan, seeing as there's two of us. Look in that funny bag o' wonders you found and check to see if there ain't a ring gag or something, then you do the front."
As Spyglass began to trot off, Break-In turned his head, "If you don't find none, don't worry. We'll use a stick."
Turning back to Palette, who's mane was a tangled mess of tears and drool from the pain and misery they were inflicting upon her, Break-In leaned in close, his stubble inches from her soft cheeks. "Well lookie here. Hurts, dunnit? Pretty sure I knocked a crack in that pretty thigh of yours. Should heal within a few months, if you don't move much. Would be a shame if it didn't set properly, wouldn't it? You'd be walking funny for the rest of your life." |
