Sweet Indian Babe

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A line of fire stretched itself across the top of her thighs and she screamed. It was what she heard herself screaming that surprised her."Please no. No flogging. Please fuck me now. Please I need you in me all hard and hot and fucking me anywhere you like," she begged, and as she did so she knew it was true.CRACK.A second line of fire, a little higher on her thighs, just below her arse, elicited another scream but also intensified her wanton desire for violation."Please in my cunt and up my arse, please," she wailed.Adjusting her position slightly until she was set to his liking, Ramzy El-Najjar entered her womb in one long firm thrust.Her cries changed to, "Harder, deeper, fuck me harder."As he complied with her wishes, a part of her mind seemed detached and watched her writhing in pleasure as an audience of naked Kobekistani males gazed at the spectacle of this American woman pleading for more and deeper sex.She never noticed the Emir mount a borrowed horse and ride off to explore. He kicked him in the gut and turned to the two city cops had tried to restrain him. "You two are fired."The skinny one looked at him, "You cain't fire us. You ain't got no authority." I got all the authority I need right here," he said as he pulled a small thirty-two caliber colt revolver out of his waistband. "Around here, the meanest man has the authority. And you listen to me good. I am the meanest son of a bitch you ever met. Now hand over your badges and git."When they made no move to comply, Harley grabbed the badges off of their chests. "Is them guns city property?" The skinny one sullenly nodded his head yes. Harley held out his hand. They unbuckled their gun belts and let them drop to the floor in a small act of defiance. He let it pass."Now you two peckerwoods have exactly one day to move out of town, just as far as y'all can get. I ain't got no time to be watching my back so I want you gone. If I see either one of you still here this time tomorrow, you end up like this tub.
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When she wasn’t, it felt like a piece of me was missing.“Do you feel any remorse for killing those men earlier?” She asked breaking the silence a few minutes later. “No, mistress, I don’t. It felt ... Right to kill them. But if I may ask, it felt so erotic when I took his soul. Does it always feel like that? I asked her.“Yes, and no. The more evil the soul is, the more pleasure you get out of it. It sounds cliché, but it’s one of the very few things that the myths got right.” She told me. She then started to tell me about an artist during the renaissance that she had made a deal with. He had only wanted one more night on earth. “His name was Masaccio and he was a very talented painter. He was well known and had created many great works of art.” She said. Hannah told me that he had lost his wife and son to disease and felt that he had nothing left to live for. He wanted to make love to his wife one more time and then my mistress could do whatever she wanted to his soul.I felt a tear.

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