Scrawney’s dark corner of erotic filth.

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The skin ripples on your buttocks
as my hand slaps hard against your tender skin. The sound, echoes in the room, harmonizingwith your cry.
Each slap harder than the last,
each a bit more intense, leaving marks, slight at first, but now tender and raw as your voice,
the pain rippling through your body like mad love,
again and again and always again, not punishment, for you are my delight, not punishment, but pleasure
strange and wonderfully
shared.
 
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