The Picnic Basket part 3

Her ass was welted, hurting so damn good. It throbbed, but not nearly as insistently as her pussy.

Once again, He had left her, walking to where he had left the basket of “dessert” objects. With her forehead pressed to the grassy sod, and her ass in the air, skirt pooled around her waist, she was exposed, vulnerable, and so fucking raw with need.

She couldn’t see what he was taking out, and when the hard wooden paddle took a swoop across her already sore cheek…

“YEEE-OW!” She erupted, and the bastard laughed.

“hmm, yes, I thought that one would get you going, little girl.” And he continued to pummel and tenderize her flesh until she was sure that all that was left were thin strips of flesh hanging from her rump. Tears bled from under her tightly shut eyelids, running up her forehead, and slipping soundlessly into the loam beneath her head.

And yet. Her pussy throbbed. She was so enormously turned on. How wonderful would it be to feel his cock push aside her meager thong strap, and fill her empty hole with his rigid flesh? She wanted him to take, to take to use, to do with her whatever he wanted.

And of course, he was.

He’d promised her new games this time. Being paddled, whipped, and spanked outside was certainly new. She wondered what next.

She didn’t have long to wait.

“I need to pee.”

His statement fell into the grass beside her. She imagined he would be striding off to the verge and pissing on a tree. Instead, she felt his finger probe her asshole.

He wouldn’t.

That was nasty. Awful. Dirty.

Her pussy pulsed in harmony with her rapid heartbeat.

She felt something cool, metallic in her ass. Something big, long, uncomfortable.

“Funnel fits.” His voice was cheery, informative.

She wiggled a bit, trying to adjust to the long cool length of it.  Her voice was muffled.

“That’s too big to be a funnel. Please Sir, please won’t you tell me what you really have in my ass?”

She felt it slick out of her butthole as he pulled it, then lifted her face by a fistful of hair.

It was the biggest fucking funnel she’d ever seen.

Her head thunked back onto the ground, and he quickly reinserted the tube into her ass.

The sound of piss being released, tinging against the bowl of the funnel was almost immediately accompanied by the heat, and sudden uncomfortable fullness of his urine being poured into her ass. He peed for a long while. Obviously, he’d been holding back.

“Ahhh, ” he rubbed her ass with his hand, pulling the funnel from her hole. Just as quickly she felt some thing go inside of her.

A funny fwick fwick fwick accompanied a terrible fullness at her backdoor.

Her belly churned and she felt a bit nauseous.

“You have an ass full of my piss, and a lovely inflatable butt plug to hold it in there awhile, slut. I want your ass all nicely cleaned out for when I fuck it later.”

He stood, arms folded, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He had rolled her over, her cuffed hands under her, hair matted, belly slightly distended. She heard the gurgle of her bowels, and felt the discomfort of needing to relieve herself.

How fucking embarrassing.

Nothing could pass the thick blockage that was painfully uncomfortable in her ass. She needed to get it out. He stood watching her, laying there on the ground, her dress hiked up, pussy gleaming wetly. She must look so fucking dirty. A fucking human toilet.

She shivered again. He was reaching into the picnic basket once more.