When the museum tour guides took their lunch breaks, they left Maxine hanging with her pain flowers in full bloom while Shereen continued to moan dementedly as if the ghosts of spiked cocks were still fucking both her holes.
“That was pretty good.”
“Yeah, but next time you gotta try their Pad-Thai.”
“Meh, I dunno. Does it always have like an oily fish sauce? Anyway, back to work, Brother Bobby. Do you want to switch witches?”
“Sure, I wouldn’t mind wetting my spikes in that little one’s throat while she’s still twitching. You don’t mind if I keep the pears in there?”
“That’s fine. I found a dozen metal sewing needles. I was thinking of heating them up and running them through the mouthy one’s breasts.”
“Shame to ruin such a great rack, though.”
“Yeah, but when you’re given a schoolgirl with big ones like these, you have to take advantage of it, you know?”
“They sure are the biggest I’ve seen in a long while.”
“So, did you girls have fun?” the teacher asked as they were ushered out of the closing museum. Her enthusiasm was in deep contrast to the gloomy faces of her students in their torn uniforms.
“No. They raped and tortured us all day,” one girl said, and the others nodded their agreement.
“Well, did you learn something at least?”
No one dared to admit it, but they had learned a lot that day. For example, if you looked carefully at the group of dejected and violated schoolgirls, you could spot Shereen and Maxine holding hands. At least one confession did not fall on deaf ears.
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