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184 Summer And The DVDS Part C free porn video
184 Summer and the DVDS part c
Well we had fantastic mind-blowing sex summer and I, on that Friday, till I looked at the clock, and realised it was time for the school run. Leaving Summer to tidy up, I set off to fetch the youngsters, there followed what can only be called a dry period, weekends with the three at home were to become a trial, Summer and I having tasted the fruit so to speak, now champing at the bit, though with this self- imposed “not in front of the k**s ban it was to us two wasted days.
Monday dragged itself round, up, dressed, and fed, the k**s trooped out to my motor and we set off, the three across the back seat as had become their norm. the front seat usually had shopping and mail, that sort of thing filling it.
They chatted all the way to the school, then I streaked home as if the motor was on jet fuel, I just couldn`t wait.
Dumping the motor in the drive, I bounced into summers living room to find it empty. This was unheard of, Summer and I taking morning coffee together each school day normally.
I called upstairs, then out back, nothing, I finally found her sitting naked on my sofa, with a wide grin, two cups of coffee on the small table and the next film lined up awaiting my click.
Nothing was said, as I clicked the button, stripping as the screen filled with my Trish, as usual thanking me and so on, apologising to the master for her cold and to us for his, then there was not a lot to say, she was whipped, as usual, then he violated her as before doing what we came to know as the condom trick and her dressing before going home, we were both disappointed.
We spun it on checking the next one briefly, but noting nothing new. Summer marked the disc, with its new number, having done the same to the ones before, then in went the next and for a change we found we were in a barn, a huge wide and dark barn, lit by a couple of camera spot-lamps.
Trish, appeared and after the date and her usual thanks, said that as the last films had been a little lack lustre, due to both the master and her being unwell, she had asked him to pull out the stops for me and do something a bit more “special” to his request this time for a change.
In the centre under a beam dangled a rope, which, she said she was to be suspended from then whipped, and she hoped I would enjoy her abject distress.
The master appeared naked, and stood waiting for her to strip, which she soon did unusually leaving on her panties, an old pair of white cotton ones. Next, he produced handcuffs and pinioned her hands behind her back. Bringing forth the comment from Summer “how`s he going to suspend her then?”
We were soon enlightened, as he bent her forward then began binding her swinging breasts with soft cord, both round each and in a figure of eight. She was soon stood once more her lovely breasts beginning to colour. He attached the dangling rope to the binding, then with a grunt pulled her upwards till her feet were just on the floor. She screamed, as the weight came on her soft breasts through her rope brassiere. She began to go with the flow of what must have been the most immense pain, every tiny movement brought more and it was reflected this time in her facial expressions. It was fascinating and sexy, but oh so cruel all rolled into one,
Never-the -less I by now had a stiffee, it was turning me on big time, realising that it was in the past and not only could I not influence the outcome, but my lovely wife was well past all earthly cares.
Effortlessly, he hauled her roof-wards, tying her off some feet above the floor her hips at head height, where she now hung whimpering and obviously in very real pain.
He then approached the camera and into the lens he stated that “she” indicating his victim with a thumb jerk, “has been asked to drink 3 pints of squash before she left her home, which she promises me she had done.” He prodded her in the area of her mons, calling “Is that not right miss, she gasped that it was and she resumed her tearful crying. He produced a pint glass, held it to her sex lips and ordered her to fill it, not spill it and then to stop mid flow when he said to, she looked shocked then strained and began a strong flow through the old tatty knickers. She was hampered by being unable to see the glass, her bound breasts being in her line of sight, but luckily realising the problem, when she had filled the glass, he told her to stop. With an effort, she did so.
He stepped back and held it to the light, such as there was, the amber nectar glittering gold in the spotlight`s beam. He had a step ladder and a funnel now, taken from behind the camera. Opening the step, placed the glass on the tiny platform, then climbed the steps tipped the woman`s head back and placed the funnel into her jaws, pushing the tube into her gagging throat. She must have known what he intended, her eyes showing shear panic as he began to pour the liquid into the funnel, she began to splutter and choke, but relentlessly he poured the warm golden water into her throat.
He began to laugh, maniacally as his victim began to drown, his echoing voice telling her that she had best swallow quickly or she would soon be beyond help, bless her she did her best. He withdrew the funnel, displease that she had consumed less than half of the liquid, she still choking and spluttering, fighting desperately for air, her body jerking with every cough, the rough rope lift sending bolts of pain through those lovely tender breasts.
And he laughed, the bastard laughed.
He climbed down, fetched a second rope, threw it over the beam, made a second neat throw over the beam, leaving her all the while to retake her composure. He left the second rope remounted the steps and asked if she was “OK now?” and when she nodded, he instantly produced the half empty glass, took her chin in his hand and filled her upturned mouth with her own juice, she swallowed this time, aided by the lack of the solid funnel she managed better. He drained the glass into her mouth and then asked if she was comfortable. She shook her head. “Well”, he drawled I think you need another rope to help take the strain.
He clambered down, slipped the loop of the rope between her feet and then slowly pulled the two slack ends till the loop was up between her legs but above her knees. He tied of one end, then slowly attending the loop all the way he pulled it higher. It soon nestled in her sexual cleft, those knicker giving scant protection to her soft lips., she knew what to expect as he heaved with one brawny hand on the loose ropes end, holding her open with his spare hand so the hemp rope lifted her weight from her stretched and abused breasts transferring her weight and pain to her poor cunt. He tied it off, then went to the hidden shelf or table that we still had not seen. He returned with a blue handled crop, I instantly recognised it, I had brought it for her birthday. He must have known, showing it us through the lens. I knew he was going to whip her and with the tool I had unwittingly provided.
He made her kiss the crop, telling her just a couple, did she understand? Then saying the best is yet to come, he swung my crop full chat, striking her soundly across her pantie covered rump. Her body jerked convulsively, but before she had time to scream the crop struck again across her unprotected belly. She screamed, and hard this was not funny or sexual.
I became conscious of a hand, holding my hot errection, and her other hand deep in her own crutch, her eyes fixed on the screaming woman in the screen, her friend, taking the punishment she so desired.
He let her down back to the barns earth floor, still tethered by the breast rope, but without the crutch rope.
He walked her, hobbling from the sore crutch, from the lift to just out of the cameras gaze, then returned to swing the thing into focus. We were presented with a rack, a full size, rope and windless medieval rack.
He had her stand to fill the glass once more, removed the hand-cuffs, then remove the wet knickers which she hung on the rack side.
He bowed and said, “when your ready madam your bed awaits.” That brought a smile, and she took his proffered hand, daintily stepping over the side and sitting on the wooden plank floor in the rowboat like box. He moved the camera nearer, refocused it set the spotlights then wrapped ropes from the bottom rollers round her ankles, then took up the slack till her legs were out in front of her, the rollers clicking ominously. next he lay her back and did the same with her wrists above her head. In a totally submissive way she helped him as best she could, knowing that by positioning her limbs in the best way she could think of, it would speed things up in allowing him to stretch her very painfully and then allow him to whip her senselessly. I found that more erotic than anything so far. Summer gripping my manhood as the rack windlasses were slowly turned click after click slowly lifting her from the floor and supporting her on the four ropes.
He asked if she was comfortable, and she smiled, as she hung totally at his mercy, a position she obviously loved. Her eyes followed his every move as he rummaged in a bag at his feet.
Summer groaned as she watched him fetch forth a long-tapered candle, muttering to me that she loved candle play. He lit the candle, waiting for the flame to accrue some hot wax, he then allowing it to drip onto her bloated and discoloured breasts still supported in the rope bra. The pain of each drip magnified by the tight bloated skin being so taught. She began to scream once more. Laughing he cut the rope away, blood rushed into the restricted tissue, as the now free breasts collapsed softly onto her chest. Her screams subsided after a moment or two and discarding the snuffed candle, he returned to the windlasses, click, click, click, each click tightening the body a little more. She began to moan increasing in volume as each click reverberated round the empty barn.
She became aware of the blue crop grasped in his hand, he asked her how many she could take.
I felt the grip tighten once again as Summer heard her say that she was his, he was the master, it was his choice, she was his to misuse.
He swung the crop, it landed with a smack on the stretched body, it was followed by more strokes, a positive rain of slaps, the red marks, becoming a web of pain to which she began to climax, it was mighty, a climax to be proud of.
Summer had squeezed as every stroke landed, it was irresistible, my seed boiled, then spewed onto her wrist, the screams of my late wife, echoing round the room as pump after pump of my seed followed the first. Summer leant forward and began hoovering my life -juice from her wrist her face a picture of sheer contentment. We never did see the delightful Trish released, and we had another four days till the weekend intervened once again.
Well we had fantastic mind-blowing sex summer and I, on that Friday, till I looked at the clock, and realised it was time for the school run. Leaving Summer to tidy up, I set off to fetch the youngsters, there followed what can only be called a dry period, weekends with the three at home were to become a trial, Summer and I having tasted the fruit so to speak, now champing at the bit, though with this self- imposed “not in front of the k**s ban it was to us two wasted days.
Monday dragged itself round, up, dressed, and fed, the k**s trooped out to my motor and we set off, the three across the back seat as had become their norm. the front seat usually had shopping and mail, that sort of thing filling it.
They chatted all the way to the school, then I streaked home as if the motor was on jet fuel, I just couldn`t wait.
Dumping the motor in the drive, I bounced into summers living room to find it empty. This was unheard of, Summer and I taking morning coffee together each school day normally.
I called upstairs, then out back, nothing, I finally found her sitting naked on my sofa, with a wide grin, two cups of coffee on the small table and the next film lined up awaiting my click.
Nothing was said, as I clicked the button, stripping as the screen filled with my Trish, as usual thanking me and so on, apologising to the master for her cold and to us for his, then there was not a lot to say, she was whipped, as usual, then he violated her as before doing what we came to know as the condom trick and her dressing before going home, we were both disappointed.
We spun it on checking the next one briefly, but noting nothing new. Summer marked the disc, with its new number, having done the same to the ones before, then in went the next and for a change we found we were in a barn, a huge wide and dark barn, lit by a couple of camera spot-lamps.
Trish, appeared and after the date and her usual thanks, said that as the last films had been a little lack lustre, due to both the master and her being unwell, she had asked him to pull out the stops for me and do something a bit more “special” to his request this time for a change.
In the centre under a beam dangled a rope, which, she said she was to be suspended from then whipped, and she hoped I would enjoy her abject distress.
The master appeared naked, and stood waiting for her to strip, which she soon did unusually leaving on her panties, an old pair of white cotton ones. Next, he produced handcuffs and pinioned her hands behind her back. Bringing forth the comment from Summer “how`s he going to suspend her then?”
We were soon enlightened, as he bent her forward then began binding her swinging breasts with soft cord, both round each and in a figure of eight. She was soon stood once more her lovely breasts beginning to colour. He attached the dangling rope to the binding, then with a grunt pulled her upwards till her feet were just on the floor. She screamed, as the weight came on her soft breasts through her rope brassiere. She began to go with the flow of what must have been the most immense pain, every tiny movement brought more and it was reflected this time in her facial expressions. It was fascinating and sexy, but oh so cruel all rolled into one,
Never-the -less I by now had a stiffee, it was turning me on big time, realising that it was in the past and not only could I not influence the outcome, but my lovely wife was well past all earthly cares.
Effortlessly, he hauled her roof-wards, tying her off some feet above the floor her hips at head height, where she now hung whimpering and obviously in very real pain.
He then approached the camera and into the lens he stated that “she” indicating his victim with a thumb jerk, “has been asked to drink 3 pints of squash before she left her home, which she promises me she had done.” He prodded her in the area of her mons, calling “Is that not right miss, she gasped that it was and she resumed her tearful crying. He produced a pint glass, held it to her sex lips and ordered her to fill it, not spill it and then to stop mid flow when he said to, she looked shocked then strained and began a strong flow through the old tatty knickers. She was hampered by being unable to see the glass, her bound breasts being in her line of sight, but luckily realising the problem, when she had filled the glass, he told her to stop. With an effort, she did so.
He stepped back and held it to the light, such as there was, the amber nectar glittering gold in the spotlight`s beam. He had a step ladder and a funnel now, taken from behind the camera. Opening the step, placed the glass on the tiny platform, then climbed the steps tipped the woman`s head back and placed the funnel into her jaws, pushing the tube into her gagging throat. She must have known what he intended, her eyes showing shear panic as he began to pour the liquid into the funnel, she began to splutter and choke, but relentlessly he poured the warm golden water into her throat.
He began to laugh, maniacally as his victim began to drown, his echoing voice telling her that she had best swallow quickly or she would soon be beyond help, bless her she did her best. He withdrew the funnel, displease that she had consumed less than half of the liquid, she still choking and spluttering, fighting desperately for air, her body jerking with every cough, the rough rope lift sending bolts of pain through those lovely tender breasts.
And he laughed, the bastard laughed.
He climbed down, fetched a second rope, threw it over the beam, made a second neat throw over the beam, leaving her all the while to retake her composure. He left the second rope remounted the steps and asked if she was “OK now?” and when she nodded, he instantly produced the half empty glass, took her chin in his hand and filled her upturned mouth with her own juice, she swallowed this time, aided by the lack of the solid funnel she managed better. He drained the glass into her mouth and then asked if she was comfortable. She shook her head. “Well”, he drawled I think you need another rope to help take the strain.
He clambered down, slipped the loop of the rope between her feet and then slowly pulled the two slack ends till the loop was up between her legs but above her knees. He tied of one end, then slowly attending the loop all the way he pulled it higher. It soon nestled in her sexual cleft, those knicker giving scant protection to her soft lips., she knew what to expect as he heaved with one brawny hand on the loose ropes end, holding her open with his spare hand so the hemp rope lifted her weight from her stretched and abused breasts transferring her weight and pain to her poor cunt. He tied it off, then went to the hidden shelf or table that we still had not seen. He returned with a blue handled crop, I instantly recognised it, I had brought it for her birthday. He must have known, showing it us through the lens. I knew he was going to whip her and with the tool I had unwittingly provided.
He made her kiss the crop, telling her just a couple, did she understand? Then saying the best is yet to come, he swung my crop full chat, striking her soundly across her pantie covered rump. Her body jerked convulsively, but before she had time to scream the crop struck again across her unprotected belly. She screamed, and hard this was not funny or sexual.
I became conscious of a hand, holding my hot errection, and her other hand deep in her own crutch, her eyes fixed on the screaming woman in the screen, her friend, taking the punishment she so desired.
He let her down back to the barns earth floor, still tethered by the breast rope, but without the crutch rope.
He walked her, hobbling from the sore crutch, from the lift to just out of the cameras gaze, then returned to swing the thing into focus. We were presented with a rack, a full size, rope and windless medieval rack.
He had her stand to fill the glass once more, removed the hand-cuffs, then remove the wet knickers which she hung on the rack side.
He bowed and said, “when your ready madam your bed awaits.” That brought a smile, and she took his proffered hand, daintily stepping over the side and sitting on the wooden plank floor in the rowboat like box. He moved the camera nearer, refocused it set the spotlights then wrapped ropes from the bottom rollers round her ankles, then took up the slack till her legs were out in front of her, the rollers clicking ominously. next he lay her back and did the same with her wrists above her head. In a totally submissive way she helped him as best she could, knowing that by positioning her limbs in the best way she could think of, it would speed things up in allowing him to stretch her very painfully and then allow him to whip her senselessly. I found that more erotic than anything so far. Summer gripping my manhood as the rack windlasses were slowly turned click after click slowly lifting her from the floor and supporting her on the four ropes.
He asked if she was comfortable, and she smiled, as she hung totally at his mercy, a position she obviously loved. Her eyes followed his every move as he rummaged in a bag at his feet.
Summer groaned as she watched him fetch forth a long-tapered candle, muttering to me that she loved candle play. He lit the candle, waiting for the flame to accrue some hot wax, he then allowing it to drip onto her bloated and discoloured breasts still supported in the rope bra. The pain of each drip magnified by the tight bloated skin being so taught. She began to scream once more. Laughing he cut the rope away, blood rushed into the restricted tissue, as the now free breasts collapsed softly onto her chest. Her screams subsided after a moment or two and discarding the snuffed candle, he returned to the windlasses, click, click, click, each click tightening the body a little more. She began to moan increasing in volume as each click reverberated round the empty barn.
She became aware of the blue crop grasped in his hand, he asked her how many she could take.
I felt the grip tighten once again as Summer heard her say that she was his, he was the master, it was his choice, she was his to misuse.
He swung the crop, it landed with a smack on the stretched body, it was followed by more strokes, a positive rain of slaps, the red marks, becoming a web of pain to which she began to climax, it was mighty, a climax to be proud of.
Summer had squeezed as every stroke landed, it was irresistible, my seed boiled, then spewed onto her wrist, the screams of my late wife, echoing round the room as pump after pump of my seed followed the first. Summer leant forward and began hoovering my life -juice from her wrist her face a picture of sheer contentment. We never did see the delightful Trish released, and we had another four days till the weekend intervened once again.
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