some anon joeypost

Joey's beet red pussy dripped on to the cold concrete floor. It no longer ached, but felt completely detached from her body. A dull throbbing - more rhythm than sensation - was the only thing that told her it was sore. The memory of her body first being racked with pain, the screams, the pleading, to the ensuing desensitization, were all a million years ago. All the anal acrobatics were beginning to take their tole on the spry girl, and the meager subsistence she scraped out of used condoms left her head swimming.