“Is it bad?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “It gets worse the more you do it.”
“Good,” he said.
I whimpered as he picked up the bunch of nettles again.
“Open your legs,” he commanded.
“No,” I said. “Please, that would be unbearable.”
“Are you refusing an order?” he demanded.
“Please, Roland,” I begged. “Not that.”
I could see how his c**k bulged huge against his trousers. I knew there would be no mercy with him so aroused.
“Open,” he ordered.
Slowly, with extreme reluctance, I opened my legs. Roland flicked the nettles up against my cunt. As with my breasts, it did not appear to sting at first; but, after repeated swishing of the nettles against my cunt, the lips began to burn. I hopped from one leg to another, desperately trying to mitigate the pain. More than once I closed my legs,
