The centrepiece of the window was slightly jawdropping, a recently stuffed cobra, rising sinuously into a strike posture, its’ fangs bared in time-s...opped, primaeval threat, glared into the face of a mongoose. Any sober customer would stand and stare at this little tableau, see the sullen lights inside and saunter inside like a moth to a flame.The hypnotised punter would immediately be aware of the smallness of his being, up to 40 or 50 grizzled males would look at him as a matter of course,. "You seemed to have me at a disadvantage." He mused pleasantly. "Nevertheless, welcome to Masaki shrine!" Straitening he was unable to keep from looking curiously at the pair. "I take it then, you have some sort of business with me?" Yes sir!" Wataru piped up enthusiastically. "You see, we called you last month and asked permission to film the shrine, for a documentary on the Shinto religion?" Katsuhito actually blinked."Ahh!" He said quickly. "Of course!" Then paused. "But only now that you. She then told me to stand up. When I did she loosened my belt, pulled my pants down and started to play with my cock. She took it in her mouth, and licked the head of my cock while playing with my balls. She then withdrew and blew on the wet head and of course it felt cold and I started to pull away, however she grabbed my ass and held me close, then she opened her mouth wide and blew a hot breath from the bottom of her lungs, and oh my god did that feel fantastic. She repeated this same action. “Dustin, please,” she begged.The belt lashed out, curling around her ankle and sending a lance of fire through her body. A flurry of fast, vicious blows followed, striping her calves and legs as she howled in pain.“No, please, I’ll do what you want,” she cried out. “I’m your slave, Dustin. I’m your slave.”As she finished, she heard a knock on the door and her youngest son asked if she was alright. Dustin glared at her, the threat implicit in his eyes as he raised the belt.“Mommy’s fine,” she.
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