Nandita To Nandini
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Come With Me And See What He Did free porn video
I cant honestly say I am a BDSM addict, although my experiences with corporal punishment, at boarding school, did lead me to commit a sexual act, which stuck with me right into my adult life.
As a young girl, being ordered to take your panties off for a caning, left me flustered and I started secreting freely, as my panties soaked in expectation of exposing myself to a man.
I was being caned, an act that was to be carried out on my bare flesh. I had passed the age where wearing a pair of shorts to protect my modesty, had passed, now I was old enough to be seen, and the masters could pleasure in beholding your flowering womanhood, gleaming in the shaft of sunlight, its wetness illuminating your bottom and the swelling of your sex organ, before bringing the cane down hard, the clear liquid coating the bamboo, as your flesh gave way and the bamboo buried into your swollen lips and their secretions.
There is huge sexual sense of domination, forced to strip and bend, naked from the waist down, the wearing ankle socks and pumps, to enforce that sense of nudity and exposure, where six firm strokes can take upwards of an hour, as the ritual differs from master to pupil, myself being one of the better prizes, and my master being one of the more lecherous.
'They always choose before your Periods', Bella said, she was a rather large girl, a bit plumpish and rotund.
She had been here before, a repeat offender, and had been caned repeatedly throughout her years at school, Bella was one of those girls who was sort off into it, and we all suspected there was more going on behind that masters door, than Bella was letting on about.
Another girl, Sandra, agreed with Bella on the timing and indeed I was due in days, being asked to confirm this, he added, 'We dont want you making a mess of my floor', a crude reference to my womanly monthlies.
Other girls, more knowledgeable suggested they choose that time as were ovulating and highly 'In the mood', making caning more interesting for the masters, as some girls had orgasms, adding to the b**stliness of the act.
As I pondered all this advice, my body screamed 'Its true', I was sexually aroused about being exposed, and my panties were soaked, my face deepened in crimson, I would have to hand him my panties, and he could not fail to notice, how wet they were.
Boarding schools are notorious for their ritualistic ways, and a weird sense of loyalty is instilled into you, even when its barbaric and humiliating, you wear it with a sense of pride, and wallow in its shame, knowing your participation and silence, maintains its injuriousness, for future generations of girls at their masters service.
I sat alone outside his study, one of the 'Prize girls', a label freely attached to a new blossom, fresh, ripe for exploration, and an exquisite scent, for the men about to explore.
On the heavy door hung a sign bearing the 'Do Not Disturb', under which bore the words, 'Discipline in progress', what happened in there, was his domain, unquestioned, legal, and lawful, I squirmed and wet myself some more, not long know I thought, feeling a tightness and a sickness run through my tummy.
My mental torture ended when a shout from the other side barked, 'Come in'.
I stood before him, head bowed and hands behind my back, 'Stand up straight', he barked, 'Put your hands behind your head', he continued, at which I clasped my hands, fingers interlocking, behind my head, causing my breasts to push against my blouse, something that did not escape his attention, as he approached me and traced their outline with his finger.
I swallowed hard as the electric shock I felt at his intimacy, He was master and what happened now, remained here.
He moved behind me and I tightened up, 'Relax', he ordered, his warm breath wafting across my ear such was his closeness, 'Are still in your panties?'
There was an air of expectancy in his voice, is if already knowing, but by asking he was probing without fear, and I was wilting with submissiveness.
'Yes sir', I meekly replied, 'Then remove them girl', he replied, holding his hand out, waiting for me to put them into his grasp, which I duly did, feeling shame as their wetness was all too obvious, and as I looked ahead at his reflection in the glass panel, I saw him lift them to his nose and hold them under it and breath-in my scents, he tossed them onto the table in front of me.
'Feeling excited Mariel', he asked me as he moved to the cupboard and removed a cane made of bamboo, 'This my dear will mark you, you will wear them with pride',
It was then I felt a sudden gush escape from between my legs, I felt its exoticness, and a deep ache within suddenly, like a surge of testosterone, I felt aggressive and challenging, 'Bend over Girl', he barked, as he moved behind me and lifted my skirt high over my bare buttocks, his sharp intake of breath clearly showing his excitement at what he was looking at.
My knees were locked straight, my legs open wide enough to see everything on show, and he run the bamboo cane up the inner thigh, resting on my clitoris, where he pushed it forward until the knobbly bit brushed against mt clitoris, now swollen and responsive as my knees buckled as the cane moved it around, stimulating me, making me hump it, 'You like that feeling girl, dont you girl?', as he probed and rubbed it harder, I never ever visualized myself having an orgasm bent double, ass high in the air, having my clitoris rubbed with a bamboo cane, I did not answer, I just moved with his probings, my working answering his question.
He stopped as soon as he started and without warning brought this rod of pleasure sharply across my buttocks, the dullness of the whack clearly masked by my heightened sexuality, I never felt the sting just the warmth, the second being applied harder before being reinstated between my legs and brought to focus on my swollen bud, the sheer sensation of pleasure mixed with dull pain, confusing my senses, my coming of age bearing more fruit than even my master expected.
Two welts contrasted sharply across my white buttocks, rising and but unfelt, which must have pleased my master, as his brutality was known by the girls he had dealt with, in the past.
My back hurt as I remained in this constrained position, and instead of answering he approached from behind and placed his cool hand on my buttocks, tracing the curvature of the cheek down onto the swell of my labia, slipping his index finger between my lips, again my knees giving way as I succumbed to his deft probings.
Twenty minutes had passed and I had matured beyond my expectations, my exposure to my master, my taking his best shots, and I still felt I was growing up before his eyes, the sexuality of this experience was growing and I prepared myself for his next endeavors, full intercourse, this of course was my deflowering, my introduction to the senior-hood, the master's playthings, a time in school where you attained the highest rank, and enjoyed the special treatment that accompanied such positional rank.
My beating had to continue, I must show six deep welts, my markings and I asked him to continue with the punishment, so two more were administered, then he ordered me to show him my own technique, when masturbating, so bent and bleeding I run my fingers between my legs and worked on myself, while he undressed and showed me what an angry cock looked like, so I focused and came, as he moved behind my upraised buttocks, steadied and accepted him fully, we started fucking in earnest, and I started to connect pain and pleasure, and as we did it, the act burned deep into my psyche, leaving an acceptance of spanking and sex, whipping and caning, and above all a yearning for it during lovemaking.
I left entered his study a girl and left a young woman, I was marked and possessed, experienced and wanting, never again would any master find me wanting, just willing, and eager to offer my all, so a chance meeting at a private corner in the yard, I would bend and lift in an act of subservience, a quickie for master before confronting his wife for dinner, and another fulfilling orgasm for me to build on.
As a young girl, being ordered to take your panties off for a caning, left me flustered and I started secreting freely, as my panties soaked in expectation of exposing myself to a man.
I was being caned, an act that was to be carried out on my bare flesh. I had passed the age where wearing a pair of shorts to protect my modesty, had passed, now I was old enough to be seen, and the masters could pleasure in beholding your flowering womanhood, gleaming in the shaft of sunlight, its wetness illuminating your bottom and the swelling of your sex organ, before bringing the cane down hard, the clear liquid coating the bamboo, as your flesh gave way and the bamboo buried into your swollen lips and their secretions.
There is huge sexual sense of domination, forced to strip and bend, naked from the waist down, the wearing ankle socks and pumps, to enforce that sense of nudity and exposure, where six firm strokes can take upwards of an hour, as the ritual differs from master to pupil, myself being one of the better prizes, and my master being one of the more lecherous.
'They always choose before your Periods', Bella said, she was a rather large girl, a bit plumpish and rotund.
She had been here before, a repeat offender, and had been caned repeatedly throughout her years at school, Bella was one of those girls who was sort off into it, and we all suspected there was more going on behind that masters door, than Bella was letting on about.
Another girl, Sandra, agreed with Bella on the timing and indeed I was due in days, being asked to confirm this, he added, 'We dont want you making a mess of my floor', a crude reference to my womanly monthlies.
Other girls, more knowledgeable suggested they choose that time as were ovulating and highly 'In the mood', making caning more interesting for the masters, as some girls had orgasms, adding to the b**stliness of the act.
As I pondered all this advice, my body screamed 'Its true', I was sexually aroused about being exposed, and my panties were soaked, my face deepened in crimson, I would have to hand him my panties, and he could not fail to notice, how wet they were.
Boarding schools are notorious for their ritualistic ways, and a weird sense of loyalty is instilled into you, even when its barbaric and humiliating, you wear it with a sense of pride, and wallow in its shame, knowing your participation and silence, maintains its injuriousness, for future generations of girls at their masters service.
I sat alone outside his study, one of the 'Prize girls', a label freely attached to a new blossom, fresh, ripe for exploration, and an exquisite scent, for the men about to explore.
On the heavy door hung a sign bearing the 'Do Not Disturb', under which bore the words, 'Discipline in progress', what happened in there, was his domain, unquestioned, legal, and lawful, I squirmed and wet myself some more, not long know I thought, feeling a tightness and a sickness run through my tummy.
My mental torture ended when a shout from the other side barked, 'Come in'.
I stood before him, head bowed and hands behind my back, 'Stand up straight', he barked, 'Put your hands behind your head', he continued, at which I clasped my hands, fingers interlocking, behind my head, causing my breasts to push against my blouse, something that did not escape his attention, as he approached me and traced their outline with his finger.
I swallowed hard as the electric shock I felt at his intimacy, He was master and what happened now, remained here.
He moved behind me and I tightened up, 'Relax', he ordered, his warm breath wafting across my ear such was his closeness, 'Are still in your panties?'
There was an air of expectancy in his voice, is if already knowing, but by asking he was probing without fear, and I was wilting with submissiveness.
'Yes sir', I meekly replied, 'Then remove them girl', he replied, holding his hand out, waiting for me to put them into his grasp, which I duly did, feeling shame as their wetness was all too obvious, and as I looked ahead at his reflection in the glass panel, I saw him lift them to his nose and hold them under it and breath-in my scents, he tossed them onto the table in front of me.
'Feeling excited Mariel', he asked me as he moved to the cupboard and removed a cane made of bamboo, 'This my dear will mark you, you will wear them with pride',
It was then I felt a sudden gush escape from between my legs, I felt its exoticness, and a deep ache within suddenly, like a surge of testosterone, I felt aggressive and challenging, 'Bend over Girl', he barked, as he moved behind me and lifted my skirt high over my bare buttocks, his sharp intake of breath clearly showing his excitement at what he was looking at.
My knees were locked straight, my legs open wide enough to see everything on show, and he run the bamboo cane up the inner thigh, resting on my clitoris, where he pushed it forward until the knobbly bit brushed against mt clitoris, now swollen and responsive as my knees buckled as the cane moved it around, stimulating me, making me hump it, 'You like that feeling girl, dont you girl?', as he probed and rubbed it harder, I never ever visualized myself having an orgasm bent double, ass high in the air, having my clitoris rubbed with a bamboo cane, I did not answer, I just moved with his probings, my working answering his question.
He stopped as soon as he started and without warning brought this rod of pleasure sharply across my buttocks, the dullness of the whack clearly masked by my heightened sexuality, I never felt the sting just the warmth, the second being applied harder before being reinstated between my legs and brought to focus on my swollen bud, the sheer sensation of pleasure mixed with dull pain, confusing my senses, my coming of age bearing more fruit than even my master expected.
Two welts contrasted sharply across my white buttocks, rising and but unfelt, which must have pleased my master, as his brutality was known by the girls he had dealt with, in the past.
My back hurt as I remained in this constrained position, and instead of answering he approached from behind and placed his cool hand on my buttocks, tracing the curvature of the cheek down onto the swell of my labia, slipping his index finger between my lips, again my knees giving way as I succumbed to his deft probings.
Twenty minutes had passed and I had matured beyond my expectations, my exposure to my master, my taking his best shots, and I still felt I was growing up before his eyes, the sexuality of this experience was growing and I prepared myself for his next endeavors, full intercourse, this of course was my deflowering, my introduction to the senior-hood, the master's playthings, a time in school where you attained the highest rank, and enjoyed the special treatment that accompanied such positional rank.
My beating had to continue, I must show six deep welts, my markings and I asked him to continue with the punishment, so two more were administered, then he ordered me to show him my own technique, when masturbating, so bent and bleeding I run my fingers between my legs and worked on myself, while he undressed and showed me what an angry cock looked like, so I focused and came, as he moved behind my upraised buttocks, steadied and accepted him fully, we started fucking in earnest, and I started to connect pain and pleasure, and as we did it, the act burned deep into my psyche, leaving an acceptance of spanking and sex, whipping and caning, and above all a yearning for it during lovemaking.
I left entered his study a girl and left a young woman, I was marked and possessed, experienced and wanting, never again would any master find me wanting, just willing, and eager to offer my all, so a chance meeting at a private corner in the yard, I would bend and lift in an act of subservience, a quickie for master before confronting his wife for dinner, and another fulfilling orgasm for me to build on.
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