Souvenir Paddles
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Souvenir Paddles IV free porn video
Souvenir Paddles - IV
If asked, I’d have said that nothing could hurt more than her so-called ‘warm-up’; and, I’d have been wrong. So wrong!! This was difficult to describe. I was torn between the heavenly feeling of my face buried in the ass of a hard-bodied teen and the relentless swat, swat, swat of the fiendish ‘souvenir’.
Competing with the two sensations of my face and bottom was the voice of my new ‘friend‘.
“Do I have your attention? I hope that you know how fortunate you are to be serving my daughter. Half the boys in her class - and many of the girls - would love to have a turn on their knees for her. If I keep you around you will have this privilege - and duty - with both of the twins…and, at times, their friends. For this, you will pay, literally, with your ass.
“You‘re getting a taste now. But, I must caution you. This is truly only a taste. Until you‘ve had a thorough strapping and felt the cane‘s delicious bite, you‘ll not have known what true submission to a woman‘s whip-hand can mean.
“While it is true that most women lack the wish or capacity to discipline their man, some of us revel in your cries. We get moist at the thought of your submission and soaking wet at the sound of your sobbing.
“Speaking of sobbing, I promised you that you‘d do so and it sounds like you‘re almost there.”
While she’d been talking, I’d been totally overloaded with sensations. Like the proverbial kid-in-a-candy-store, I’d never ceased to lave the silken cheeks before me, running my tongue frequently from the base of her crack to her ‘coin slot’.
As instructed, I periodically focused my attention on her butt hole, spearing it with my tongue, reveling in the submission of it. She’d called it the ‘submissive kiss’ and the name seemed appros pos. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that I was the ‘submissive’ in this menage. Of course, the continued stinging of the paddle helped to reinforce my feeling of quiescence.
I remembered that she’d said this was Tammy. I wondered if I would be allowed to lick Tiffany’s pussy. I realized that, yes, I would, for their mother had a contract to have me ‘pay with my ass’ for the privilege. While I had trouble imagining how the whipping could hurt more when I attended to Tiffany, I knew that it would. I’d had it demonstrated with the second paddling. While I licked and rimmed Tammy.
In spite of the certainty. This sure knowledge that I was to suffer horribly as the price of admission, so to speak, I looked forward with eager anticipation to the moment when my lips would sip at her vulva. I knew that her shaven, teen pussy would be fresh and sweet.
I had learned, over the years to eat pussy. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-six, I had developed a predilection for the activity. I was, after all, a ‘submissive’ at heart. I’d developed a psycho-sexuality that caused me to live the reality of ‘it’s better to give then to receive’.
Once again, the paddling had stopped but not my crying. It’d been a challenge to keep my face between Tammy’s cheeks while I was being so severely paddled. As I’d begun to cry, it felt like her bottom had quivered with approval. When I began ‘sobbing’ it had become next to impossible to maintain my position and my face slipped from its place of homage only to have me instantly return it to its duty.
As my sobbing became ‘racking’ and I heard myself begin to hiccup, I had given up any pretense of oral devotion and simply yielded to the discipline being so enthusiastically delivered via the thin slice of wood that continued to redden and heat my bottom.
With the cessation of the paddling - at least temporarily - I fell again to my elbows and continued to cry as I’d not cried since I’d been a little boy.
I’d read erotica that suggested a whipping lessened in painful effect as endorphins were delivered to the body, in response to the stimulus of the pain. I’d read that the ‘bottom’ could find a ‘sub-space’ where, in a kind of dream-like euphoria, the pain would abate and turn to ‘pure pleasure’.
Bullshit!! No endorphin rush; no euphoria. Just unmitigated, unprecedented (for me) pain. The only satisfaction that I’d felt from the discipline was the sense of accomplishment for having endured; and, I suppose, the feeling of completion. Completion of a tacit ‘contract’. A contract that called for one party to deliver and the other to receive, a thorough, merciless, very severe thrashing. I felt like I was beginning to understand that word.
As I said, I knew that there would be worse to come….and I knew that I would welcome it. For I knew that the pain I was submitting to accepting was to be my price of admission. Admission to the phantasmagoric vision of worshiping at a beautiful teen girl’s most intimate parts.
If asked, I’d have said that nothing could hurt more than her so-called ‘warm-up’; and, I’d have been wrong. So wrong!! This was difficult to describe. I was torn between the heavenly feeling of my face buried in the ass of a hard-bodied teen and the relentless swat, swat, swat of the fiendish ‘souvenir’.
Competing with the two sensations of my face and bottom was the voice of my new ‘friend‘.
“Do I have your attention? I hope that you know how fortunate you are to be serving my daughter. Half the boys in her class - and many of the girls - would love to have a turn on their knees for her. If I keep you around you will have this privilege - and duty - with both of the twins…and, at times, their friends. For this, you will pay, literally, with your ass.
“You‘re getting a taste now. But, I must caution you. This is truly only a taste. Until you‘ve had a thorough strapping and felt the cane‘s delicious bite, you‘ll not have known what true submission to a woman‘s whip-hand can mean.
“While it is true that most women lack the wish or capacity to discipline their man, some of us revel in your cries. We get moist at the thought of your submission and soaking wet at the sound of your sobbing.
“Speaking of sobbing, I promised you that you‘d do so and it sounds like you‘re almost there.”
While she’d been talking, I’d been totally overloaded with sensations. Like the proverbial kid-in-a-candy-store, I’d never ceased to lave the silken cheeks before me, running my tongue frequently from the base of her crack to her ‘coin slot’.
As instructed, I periodically focused my attention on her butt hole, spearing it with my tongue, reveling in the submission of it. She’d called it the ‘submissive kiss’ and the name seemed appros pos. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that I was the ‘submissive’ in this menage. Of course, the continued stinging of the paddle helped to reinforce my feeling of quiescence.
I remembered that she’d said this was Tammy. I wondered if I would be allowed to lick Tiffany’s pussy. I realized that, yes, I would, for their mother had a contract to have me ‘pay with my ass’ for the privilege. While I had trouble imagining how the whipping could hurt more when I attended to Tiffany, I knew that it would. I’d had it demonstrated with the second paddling. While I licked and rimmed Tammy.
In spite of the certainty. This sure knowledge that I was to suffer horribly as the price of admission, so to speak, I looked forward with eager anticipation to the moment when my lips would sip at her vulva. I knew that her shaven, teen pussy would be fresh and sweet.
I had learned, over the years to eat pussy. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-six, I had developed a predilection for the activity. I was, after all, a ‘submissive’ at heart. I’d developed a psycho-sexuality that caused me to live the reality of ‘it’s better to give then to receive’.
Once again, the paddling had stopped but not my crying. It’d been a challenge to keep my face between Tammy’s cheeks while I was being so severely paddled. As I’d begun to cry, it felt like her bottom had quivered with approval. When I began ‘sobbing’ it had become next to impossible to maintain my position and my face slipped from its place of homage only to have me instantly return it to its duty.
As my sobbing became ‘racking’ and I heard myself begin to hiccup, I had given up any pretense of oral devotion and simply yielded to the discipline being so enthusiastically delivered via the thin slice of wood that continued to redden and heat my bottom.
With the cessation of the paddling - at least temporarily - I fell again to my elbows and continued to cry as I’d not cried since I’d been a little boy.
I’d read erotica that suggested a whipping lessened in painful effect as endorphins were delivered to the body, in response to the stimulus of the pain. I’d read that the ‘bottom’ could find a ‘sub-space’ where, in a kind of dream-like euphoria, the pain would abate and turn to ‘pure pleasure’.
Bullshit!! No endorphin rush; no euphoria. Just unmitigated, unprecedented (for me) pain. The only satisfaction that I’d felt from the discipline was the sense of accomplishment for having endured; and, I suppose, the feeling of completion. Completion of a tacit ‘contract’. A contract that called for one party to deliver and the other to receive, a thorough, merciless, very severe thrashing. I felt like I was beginning to understand that word.
As I said, I knew that there would be worse to come….and I knew that I would welcome it. For I knew that the pain I was submitting to accepting was to be my price of admission. Admission to the phantasmagoric vision of worshiping at a beautiful teen girl’s most intimate parts.
Mikayla
- 04.08.2020
- 11
- 0
- Category:
- Spanking
