The bands on her arms pull them back and lover causing her to bend her back uncomfortably and thrust her breasts forward, the caller holding her head to look up at him and then she finally feels her self being lifted of the ground as his tongues continually work on her, she hangs in the air only supported their by the tongue in her holes<br/><br/>"Weary well my little pet, as you will. Count the strikes" She is told in a commanding and serious voice. For a long moment there is nothing and then the tongue of the right head the on that was talking till now slaps her hard across the bottom. Waiting until she counts it, then follows another and another. There is no rhythm or pattern sometimes there is not on for almost a whole minute to be followed by barrage of short little stinging strikes. To pause again only for a furies brutal slap that lifts her of the moving and mercilessly wiggling tongues just to slam down on them again with all her weight.<br/><br/>His central head watches her face and expressions with grate interest as he continues to work her swollen cherry. Suddenly there is a soft blue glow from the tip of his tongue as healing magic is thrust straight into her swollen privates