Not pain alone.
The qi vibration in the wood running up the inner thigh, into the nerve cluster the other queen's thumbs had already been working, the stimulation arriving in a wave that her body's classification system was struggling to file correctly.
Crack.
Other thigh.
"AAANGHH~!!"
The Amazonian woman at her breasts had found a different approach now — both hands, gripping, kneading, the weight of Chulteka's breasts in her palms being worked the way dough is worked, the nipples trapped between fingers and rolled, the redness deepening, the tissue growing more sensitive with each pass.
Chulteka's head was rolling.
The pride was still present.
The pride was losing badly.
"I — you — all of you — when I get free — HNGH~!! — I will—"
Crack.
"AANGHH~!!"
"Quiet," said the queen with the rod.
