The Pope Chronicles

The Pope knows exactly what he wants. Three girls kneel. Maya, Avi, and Charlotte. He opens with a ball gag, straps it deep behind Maya’s teeth until her jaw strains. Spit runs. He swaps to the cane next, stripes Avi’s thighs in quick, hard arcs that bloom red. Charlotte takes the clothespins, one after another pinching soft flesh on her tits, her belly, her cunt lips, each snap making her twitch. The Pope never slows. The cane falls, pins bite, gags muffle every curse and moan. You watch each girl shake, strain, break a little more. He leaves nothing untouched. The worst is still ahead.