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She hugged the sleeping daughter, shouldering shoulders, rejoicing in every kilometer that alienated them from the bandits.
The evening tormented by coolness.
In the big cozy hall, it was quiet, they just clicked on the logs that were burning in the fireplace.

“I must thank you, Andrei,” the woman, shaking her wavy, blond hair, looked playfully at the man sitting in front of her in the chair.
– You have nothing to thank me for, and nothing for that.
I just bought you.
I hope you have not forgotten about this? He looked sternly at her, which made her blush reddening.
– Yes, Andrei, I have not forgotten.
– In that case, Svetlana, undress.
Undress to the goal.
I want to consider my purchase.
From the chair, he watched as she peeked at him confusedly, undressed, and then walked over and stood opposite, remaining in dark underwear.
– Dogol.
I said naked.
– He frowned in disgust, threw his legs, and, clicking a lighter, lit a cigarette.
Svetlana, having thought that she, an adult, forty-year-old woman, was forced to obey the boy, the villain, with her head down, cried.
Several tears rolled down the face, dropped to the floor.
Finally, she froze in front of him, completely naked.

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Remaining only on heels.
He came up.
Close.
So close that I could smell the perfume coming from her warm, defenseless body

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She, feeling on himself his rough palms, fluttered.
One of them, slipping on the round shoulders, squeezing her breasts and nipples evaluatively, slipped down to the stomach, into the fluffy pubis, penetrated between the legs, and the other, no less rough and unceremonious, walked along the back and buttocks.
He inserted a finger into it, slipping between his lips, playing with them and looking into her face.
– And you flowed.
Why not shaved? She bit her lips in humiliation.
He enjoyed.
– He walked around her from behind.
Powerfully put his hand on his back and bent it.
Low.
Very low.
Behind the rustled glove.
Something cool chvaknulo in the ass.
Two fingers firmly rested in the passage.
– Relax.
– Yes.
She whispered with her lips, ready to burst into tears, letting in other people’s, arrogant fingers.
– Yes, you are narrow for forty years.
Why? – I did not give there.
Not.
– And now you will.
He dropped the glove.
– By the fireplace in the corner – rod.
Bring it to me.
She brought.
– On your knees, facing the floor.
Down in front of him, she did what she was told to do.
– I turn them down to you.
This will improve your memory, and I will not have to repeat twice.
Swinging lightly, he struck several times, squealing, clutching at her priest with her fresh pale pink stripes.
Lifting her chin, he looked into tearful, suffering-filled eyes.
He ran a finger over his wet cheek, wiping away tears.
Well, that’s enough.
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