I’ve only once in my life had a flogging. There was I, face-down on the hotel bed, ankles tied wide apart, hands bound above my head, drifting happily into subspace as the soft leather falls bounced off my buttocks in a steady, measured onslaught.
It didn’t hurt enough. I wanted him to use his belt instead. Of course, begging for the belt only resulted in admonitions of “patience, little one” – and no belt.
Max’s tone is stern, his face set. Only the slight deepening of the creases around his eyes betrays his intention. This is a game he plays, a game that Latisha enjoys very much. He points to a spot on the floor in front of him. “Now.”
She carries on buffing her nails, giving every outward appearance of indifference. “Busy” she throws over her shoulder, locking down the grin of anticipation which twitches at the corner of her purple-painted lips.
From along the bracken-strewn path, I could see that the windows on the birdwatching hide were all closed
Something about the summertime exuberance of the wildlife on this nature reserve has struck with an inexplicable surge of horniness. Right now, I really really want to indulge in myself – pull my tingling nipples, rub my swollen clit, plunge my fingers deep into my wet cunt and grind myself against my hand as hard and fast as I can manage until I come.