Now Rooni is again kneeling between my bound-wide legs. Her smile is unbelievably arch, her sadistic mischievousness indescribable in its excess. And then with a dread as bottomless as my arousal is astronomic I see what’s mounted on her crotch. It’s the double-ended ivory harigata that my wife so often described and terrorized me with. Unlike the leather-girded phalluses of the savages, this is designed with Oriental sophistication to need no securing straps. The mere clutch of the v****a on the interior half intended to pleasure its wielder even as the hideously lifelike outer erection ravishes its recipient is enough to keep it seamlessly in place, even throughout the most devastatingly effective depredations. Rearing over my exquisitely compelling, utterly absolute vulnerability, belov
