Candy pressed light fingertips against the door. The sounds were unmistakable. She knew exactly what this was.
Still without touching anything but her fingertips to the wood, she imagined the scene inside.
That sharp clap with no echo or repeats – it was definitely a face slap. The muffled moan following was sure to indicate its recipient was on their knees sobbing a bit. The squeal directly on the heels of the sobbing would be when the insistent demand of fisted hair yanked her out of her shocked self-indulgence.
Candy lightly pressed her ear to the wood, hoping the echoing sounds would become clearer with more contact.
The next loud grunt suddenly muffled was Ms. Shocked being unceremoniously tipped onto her face via the gripped hair. Ass in the air, the beating would commence. Floggers would rain their many tails down upon their hapless victim. Canes would leave distinct impressions in their wake. Weighted gloves would replace tools, since Candy knew he preferred to use a more hands-on method to achieve his full satisfaction.
Slaps would drag texture across Ms. Shocked’s body. Punches would solidly sink into areas cushioned by fat, bounce slightly in more muscular sections of the targeted zones.
Candy hovered, ear and hands barely pressed to the door. She squeezed her thighs together as her breathing quickened slightly. She was living the experience in unison with its object. She didn’t allow herself to imagine the bottom inside as anything other than a vessel.
What sounded like a grunt followed by wet slapping was him sliding his cock inside that naughty cunt, dripping excitement from its rough treatment.
Candy struggled to hear more, dropping to the ground to listen at the crack umder the door. The smacking sounds intensified and she felt her nipples harden. They pressed against the floor as she quietly contorted against the door frame, struggling to catch every nuance.
It grew quiet and she unsteadily rose to her knees, wondering how to end this awkwardness and march in, moist pussy betraying the angry words she planned.
As she kneeled at the door, hand upon the wall to balance her rise, the door opened suddenly at her nose. A hand gripped her hair, tilting her head back and obscuring her view into the room and any other possible occupant. A cock worked its way into her shocked mouth, effectively silencing her half-formed protest, echoing her imagined fantasy as eerily as if it had all happened before.
It began again.