The continuing tales of Bianca Neve. Part 1 begins the saga here.
She’d caught Giuvanni in the hay loft when she came back from riding. He’d been spying on her, getting a good view of her tightly stretched riding breeches as she bent and fussed around her horse. She’d heard a noise, and thinking it was a rat, she had snatched up a broom and whacked the straw pile. He had cried out and when she dragged him out he’d had his breeches at his knees and his young Cockling was sticking out straight. She had heard the maidens tittering about boys Cocklings but she’d never seen one, so she had reached out to touch it. As soon as she did so, his burst open and his white seed shot out onto the hay.
He’d laughed when she cried out that she had broken his Cockling, so she had ordered him over a hay bale and then whipped his bare bottom with her crop. As she whipped him she had felt a delicious warmth between her own legs, and the pleasure grew and grew as Giuvanni cried and squirmed under her whip. After that, she had ordered Giuvanni to stiffen up his Cockling every day when she came back from her ride. She would then burst it for him (which he seemed to really enjoy) and then she would order him over the bales so that she could whip his bottom until it was covered in red stripes. One time Giuvanni asked if he could see her conija. He told her he wanted to mount her like the horses did! She had whipped him doubly so for his impudence and he didn’t ask again!
The thick sausage brought back the fond memories of Guivanni’s thick Cockling stiff in her hand, twitching as she had teased and stroked it to bursting. She absently stroked the sausage as she drifted back to the hayloft, and the sights and sounds of his beautiful buttocks as she whipped him with her crop. She felt her own warmth spreading and she wondered what it might have been like to let him mount her. She sighed. No chance of that now!
She fondled the Salsiccia as she had Giuvanni, long strokes back and forth, back and forth. She so desperately missed her daily rides and the games that followed in the hayloft. What could it hurt now to use those memories for her own pleasure? In a rush she had dashed back to her bed with the meaty sausage firmly in hand. She simply had to know what a Cockling might feel like to her conija. She had settled herself on her bed and had closed her eyes to better imagine Giuvanni’s muscled physique. She had half the sausage inside her when a crash startled her back to reality. At the foot of her bed, a body was rising groggily from the floor. It was Dopey. Apparently he had come back from the mines early after he had walked into a low beam.
He had come into the bedroom to rest his head when he had seen Bianca sliding the sausage into her conija. At the sight he had passed out, hence the crash! As he rose again he shook his head in disbelief and stared, mouth gaping. He obviously had never seen a conija before! Red faced and embarrassed, Bianca quickly recalled the story the maidens laughed about late at night, about how they would keep the younger boys away from them with tales of teethed little bats inside their lady-cave. She said it was a magical beast she had to feed. And if Dopey breathed a word, one night the bats might leave her cave and creep over to his bed to chomp away at Dopey’s own little sausage. She had stifled a giggle at as the colour drained from his face and his hands covered his groin!