Movie Screening
On Wednesdays, they had a special tradition - movie night. This had been going on for several months, and they tried their best to stick to it. It allowed them some time just for each other, away from the demands of their busy social lives. Their movie nights inevitably ended with some fantastic sex, ranging from hard, animalistic sessions bent over desks to almost tender tantric lovemaking. This night, however, would be different. It would mark the third day of their latest game, one that they called "masterplay." This game involved him being her master for a week. In the past, they had tried this game for an hour, sometimes all afternoon, and once for a scene that lasted the entire night.
She loved waking up as his possession, tied to the bed, and expected to satisfy his morning erection. This time around, they decided to try a whole week. The first two days had been good, but not overly exciting. They spent both days engaging in their regular activities - using ropes, gags, and blindfolds. However, there was a learning curve to this game. Scenes that lasted for an hour or two usually followed a similar pattern: tying her up, spanking her, arousing her, and only granting her orgasm at the end. This week was different. He had to find ways to provide aftercare while still being in character as her master. She had to work harder, be stronger, and exhibit more self-control.
The first night of the game, they slept together. The second night, however, she awoke to find herself in a harness, an accessory he had made her wear before bed. His orders were for her to video herself masturbating but stop short of climaxing. After removing the harness, she had to wear the clothes he had designated for her. The thought of being edged had been tough, knowing that the only thing preventing her from disobeying him was her own willpower. She knew that any misstep could lead to severe punishment at the end of the week. She contemplated climaxing secretly, but faking an orgasm might be easy, but going against his orders seemed impossible.
After dressing and sending him the video, she had breakfast and left the house. She would not receive any more orders until later that night. While she waited, she struggled to focus on her work. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of what her sadistic partner might be plotting.
He had woken up late, and to his delight, there was a video from her on WhatsApp. He watched her masturbate, approaching the edge but stopping before climaxing. The sight of her giving herself an edge had aroused him immensely. He set out to create a text message for her, one that he would send at 5:05, right when she was catching her bus home. He wanted her to read his instructions in public and reply to them just the same. Here's what his message looked like:
"Movie night slut! Excellent model this morning - lots more of that later. I will enter your home at 6. You need to see your room clean, with everything except for the rope, the dildo, and the plug (sanitized thoroughly), and the cat-o'-nine-tails. Your dress code will involve a skirt (pick whichever one is best; the better the skirt, the less I'll use the cat-o'-nine-tails on you). The curtains and the window will remain open, and the bed will be made. You will kneel, facing the window, with your back to the door. Your legs will be open, and your hands on top of your feet, under your butt. You will be waiting in this position for me to return."
She received the message as she waited for her bus. She rushed home to prepare. She went through several skirts before choosing one, a small black number - her favorite. She hoped he would savor the memories they had made in this skirt. She had to get the room ready quickly; there was no room for error. Her reply came just seconds before the bus arrived: "Yes, master, thank you, master. I love you, master, x" She seemed overly obedient, he noticed. He found it thrilling to have so much power over her. Desperate to keep to his schedule, he tried not to arrive before 6:00 but felt the need to see her suffering before he reached her.
She got home at 5:40, and she went about getting the room ready. She was picking a dress, when he set his eyes on a black skirt; he loved the memory of how it felt when he was inside of her, the feel of her under his hands. He was sure she'd appreciate the sentiment. His mind occupied with his imminent return, he edged closer and closer, yet he couldn't arrive too soon. To be a good master, he wanted to be fair.
At 5:50, she received a text: "Put nipple clamps on. Tight. Be erect before doing so. Or else, I'll use clothes pegs, and you'll wear them to bed. And that's just the punishment for disobedience. See you in ten minutes. Love you too, whore."
At 5:59, the room was impeccably arranged - she blindfolded herself, stuffed a gag into her mouth, and knelt as instructed, patiently awaiting his arrival. At 6:00 precisely, she realized she had inadvertently left her underwear on. She couldn't stroll around naked so had quickly changed into her work attire, removing her clothes last, but she'd forgotten one crucial detail. As she hastened to rectify this, the door swung open. She swiftly knelt again, mewling, recognizing the impending reprisal. Her disobedience had played out in her mind previously. She braced herself for discipline, imagining the whip scarring her posterior.
The nipple clamps hit the floor with a clatter. Her heart sank.
"No nipple clamps, and off-knees. Failed in two respects, slut?"
She shook her head.
"No!" He positioned himself behind her, grasping her left nipple with one hand and looping the other around her midsection. "What else?"
She stood, quivering. She recoiled, suspecting his hand raised.
"Lift your skirt."
He removed her gag, affixing the strap to her shoulder, then approached her desk. He snatched a pair of nail scissors, marched back, pressed the open blades against her chest.
"You feel that?" He inquired. She affirmed with a nod and a whisper.
"You feel that?", he asked loudly. She, required to respond properly, always, had learned this during their introduction to protocols a week ago. '2. If not gagged or entranced by master's penis, I must address master formally, for he outranks me.'
"Sorry, master. Yes, master. These are my scissors, master," she responded swiftly, her terror palpable.
He considered severing her knickers but remembered a better tactic. He deleted her blindfold, handed her the scissors, and instructed, "Cut them."
Favored knickers; now, merely a shredded remnant of stunning fabric. She was abashed by her oversight. She reflected on the matching bra, fastidiously stored, her mind scrambled by her negligence. How could I be so unrefined, such a woeful slut?
She sliced them. A minor nip on the left, then another on the right. They fell to the ground. He instructed, "Place them on the table."
He was cognizant of her understanding of verbiage in instances such as this. He manipulated her with verbal maneuvers, transforming her through his choice of words. She gratified him, horny and eager for his touch. Sensing his hands upon her chest and thigh, she wasted no time positioning herself, excited for an illustrious night. He had touched her, but briefly, and she craved further intimacy, determined to follow his directives zealously; she could still recollect his touch on her nipple, her leg, and the blade on her midsection. If he spanked her hard, her skin would bear marks for hours, but should he caress her, she'd still be saturated, even if she was the only one admiring the marks.
His door slammed, startling her. Was he leaving? Had today's session concluded?
Her phone vibrated. She dashed, smiled to read: "I'll return in five minutes. Leave the knickers on the table. Obey my instructions. Your choice: penalties may be manageable or severe."
Within five minutes, she awaited with anticipation, standing at attention, excited for the intimate evening ahead. She trusted she could satisfy him, relishing in his presence. She relived the feeling of his fingers upon her chest, leg, and the scissors on her stomach. She awaited the spanking that would display reddish welts or, alternatively, the traces of his caresses that only she would observe upon her skin.
She took three minutes to get ready and put on her blindfold after four. He was running late, she wasn't sure how much, but he was. She comprehended what he was doing. This was part of the punishment. She made him wait, by not following his orders, so he would make her wait. But how long? Once before, when they spent an entire afternoon like this. He had tied her up to the bed with a vibrator in, on a slow setting, and left the room. It was sheer torture, but an incredible torture. He told her she could finish. But he knew that she wouldn't be able to. She craved that little bit more and all her limbs were connected to different corners of the large double bed. The more she thought about sex, the worse it became. She started thinking about something else instead. Do you know how difficult it is to write a shopping list with a vibrator buzzing inside your pussy? She told him that night he had been gone too long; that it was fun but too long, and she'd prefer he stayed in the flat. She confessed this after she had reached an orgasm, of course. After his hand on her clit had given her release, and she had soaked the sheets.
He had vowed not to leave her like that again.
*
After fifteen minutes, he got restless. He was simply sitting in her kitchen, twiddling his thumbs. He'd played a game of chess on his phone, had a glass of water, talked strangely to one of her roommates, and now was just staring at cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling.
He entered the bedroom. She had obeyed all his instructions this time, and she knew it. She sat there with some confidence, sort of. She couldn't recall if he had been wearing a belt when he entered before, and now all she could think about was the sound of his belt hitting her skin.
"Excellent. Well, wasn't that easy?"
She nodded. He heard two sounds from her, which he interpreted as a 'yes sir' mumbled through the ball-gag. The more she moved her mouth, the more saliva built up, and her drool was now dripping down her chin, just like it does when he fucks her throat.
He walked around to check out her front, kneeled down, and placed his hand on her cheek. He saw the saliva and cleaned it off with something. She could feel the soft fabric of her ruined underwear, used to wipe the saliva away. She adored those knickers. She would wipe that thought from her mind. She could always buy more. She treasured him more than her underwear: of course she did. And she wanted to enjoy their quiet evening together.
He put the knickers back on the table. He would have her clean the cum off herself with them later, he thought. He might as well have done a villainous laugh at that moment. He hoped this was what she desired, entertainment for both of them. He occasionally worried about going too far with things and asked after to know what worked and what didn't. He wondered how long their analysis would last on Sunday night. A whole week to analyze, and so many new things tried out. The first new things of the week had been the scissors, which he hadn't planned for, they just came to him at the time. He hadn't expected her to be wearing knickers. As much of a shock to him as to her.
He was already rock hard again. His earlier erection had waned due to dissatisfaction, this one wouldn't meet the same fate.
"Remove my trousers."
She stretched out her hand, blindly, and found his belt buckle. The swat again. As she started to take down his jeans, she felt the tip of his dick protruding from the bottom of his boxers, slightly covered in her fluids. She adored the feel of his cock under her hand, yearning for it to be inside of her, anywhere, she didn't care. But she didn't linger, she had not been given permission to touch him, just to undress him.
She lightly tapped his feet, one at a time, and he stepped out of his jeans, which she then folded neatly and placed behind her on the floor, unable to see the chair or bed.
He knelt between her spread legs and placed three fingers at the entrance of her pussy. It was wet, he could sense it.
"Lie on your back."
Was he going to fuck her now?, she pondered excitedly. She wanted to feel his cum inside of her. On Monday he hadn't fucked her at all, not even with the dildo or the vibrator. He made her insert the plug and then came on her face, three times. 'You're going to have to earn it baby' he had whispered in her ear. But on Tuesday morning she awoke to him gently thrusting into her from behind.
She spread out on the floor with her legs apart, placing her hands under her bottom like he instructed in the written instructions. Still sporting his shirt and boxers, he climbed over her, pressing his manhood into her eager pussy, which, after a bit of vigorous shoving, swallowed him entirely. He pounded her relentlessly. He didn't last long. He had not climaxed since that earliest morning jerk-off, and his hunger had been constant throughout the day.
He recognized her enjoyment in feeling his sperm inside of her. Therefore, he cautiously pulled out just in time, and consequently ejaculated on her abdomen instead. Then he retrieved the panties from the table, flinging them toward her, "Clean yourself up and make your way to the bed."
She was disheartened as she performed this task, realizing she deserved it in some way for being so foolish earlier and disobeying him. The sperm sliding off her lingerie was tough to bear. She had cherished the sensation of this presence on her garments before, particularly following a sexual encounter in the park or as they departed for a date, but now it just made her want to cry.
"Movie night."
She was amazed as she forgot entirely about this event, and even wondering if it would still apply this week. She sat on the bed. He failed to mention how to posture herself. She disliked making such decisions, fearing she'd make the incorrect choice and cause him distress. She observed his back covered by his shirt as he extracted the DVD from his bag and placed it into the television. It was called Sex and Lucia, she estimated it was Spanish or Portuguese.
He had carefully chosen it to arouse her, devoting countless hours to its selection.
As the opening credits unfolded, his attention transferred to his consumed girlfriend. Placing her securely onto the bed, face up, and then securing a rope around her left ankle to the top of her right thigh and her right ankle to her left thigh, forcing her knees close to her vagina, and a different rope forming a loop around her throat, fastening her arms to her thighs and hugging each breast. They were tight; she could hardly move. Then he selected up some handcuffs from his bag and bounded her left arm to the bedpost.
"When did you purchase these?"
He brusquely slapped her cheeks, hard.
"Who the hell gave you the authority to talk?"
"Nobody, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
"I bought them just now. I thought they'd make a wonderful gift for you. Wonder why I even bother when you act so disrespectfully towards me."
"I'm sincerely sorry, master, I vow. I fell short of my role. It won't occur again, sir."
"I slapped her clit, again, harder, employing the palm of his palm. It made her cringe. Her knees shut around his hand.
"Spread your legs," he uttered gently. She alone didn't desire his yelling, yet she acknowledged it had merit. She gradually opened her legs.
"Maintain them open. Now, I'm going to strike you once more."
She winced at the mere concept of it, stubbornly kept her legs open.
He spanked her clit, again, even harder, with his bare hand. She maintained her legs open.
"Good. Now focus on the movie."
They remained silent for a period, as they watched Lucia and her beau debauch over and over again, in various sexually charged locations. She regarded him intermittently, mindful he was intently watching the film, appreciating his supremacy over her. Once he discovered her, and gruffly reprimanded her, shoving the spattered panties into her mouth as punishment. The identity was cool, and unpleasant. She longed to taste it directly from his member. This way, it was cold, distasteful. She looked solely at the movie.
He commenced stroking her, initially her nipples, turning and distorting them. Then he accessed the drawer on the desk and retrieved two wooden clothes pegs. As said, he attached them to her nipples. These were far more excruciating than the appropriate nipple clamps they had acquired from Amazon. The pain did not fade; she was required to simply ignore it, focusing rather on the feeling of his palms, now caressing her arms and thighs.
"Am you reveling in the movie, slave?"
She nodded and murmured through the knickers.
" Does the film excite you, ... whore?"
At every mention of her, he paused, making her appreciate being referred to as these labels. Often when they were out with company, he would whisper them in her ear or text her from across the room. It made her lips tingle in between her legs.
She nodded again. He removed the soaked rag from her mouth.
"Yes, master, it's highly arousing," she answered.
He placed his palm on her clit, remaining still. The feeling alone provided her with some gratification, even though she was yearning to be manipulated. The movie had been playing for approximately half an hour, but it seemed like endless years for her. Lucia was having intercourse with her boyfriend in the center of a public square, wearing only a skirt and no underwear, similar to what she was wearing.
He moved his hand lower and started to caress her anus. His index finger traced little circles. She contracted slightly at his touch.
"Relax, sweetheart."
Sweetheart? He was being cordial to her.
"Gently now."
He began pushing his finger in and out. Her juices were dripping over her anus, making it wet. The top of his finger went inside of her, and he slowly pushed it in and out of her.
"Good girl, nice and relaxed for me. Just concentrate on the movie."
She gazed at the scene. She was not reading the subtitles. Most were just moaning anyway, which is the same in any language. She was starting to enjoy his finger there. He sped up, pushing deeper and deeper, until she was accepting his entire finger. He was completely erect again, she noticed. Yet, she refrained from staring, in case he became irritated.
When he took his finger out, her anus felt a bit empty. He had her lick it clean, and then paused the film. Finally, she believed, he would use her, touch her, fuck her, at the very least remove his shirt. However, all he did was leave the room. After a minute, she heard the toilet flush. He returned to the bed, and restarted the film. She was letdown. She loved movie night, enjoying it with him while being cozy, discussing the film, actors, and their lives. But this was unlike any other. It was a form of torment, and they were both aware of it, intended to make her weaker, more sensitive for when he would finally touch her. She hoped beyond hope that she had not been disobedient, preventing her from being allowed to orgasm. She hadn't climaxed since the previous day, which in theory was not a long period but it felt like it.
"You have not been punished for earlier."
"No, master."
"How many lashes with the whip do you feel you merit?"
She hated being posed this question. If she guessed higher than he anticipated, she would receive additional lashes, and if she guessed lower, he might grow irritated and increase it.
"Thirty, sir," she reasoned, out of nowhere actually.
"If I whip you thirty times, will you be able to orgasm without feeling remorseful?"
"Fifty, sir," she inquired.
"You inform me precisely how many times to whip you, and I will execute it so. If I think it is sufficient, you may orgasm later. If it is not enough, then you will abstain from climaxing for the remainder of the week."
She panicked; this was exceedingly cruel, very intelligent but extremely cruel. By Sunday, when they debrief, she knew she'd be informing him how much she adored this segment, but in the moment, she abhorred it.
"Please whip me... eighty times, sir."
"Alright."
He increased the volume of the film. A very vulgar scene was transpiring; it was quite loud. Had he viewed this before? Did he design this? Or was this a fortunate coincidence?
He took the cat-o'-nine-tails off the table, placed it on her sex, and stepped back to set up the camera. Once he'd pushed play on the camera, he instructed, "I will utilize this whip thirty times, then I'll use my hand thirty times, then I'll use the belt twenty times. With each strike you receive, you will thank me and count."
"Yes, sir."
Finally, he donned the blindfold and placed it over her eyes. She could feel the tips of the whip swaying on her chest. The first thwack landed on her stomach. "Thank you, sir, one." The second whack struck her left breast. "Thank you, sir, two." The third landed on her right thigh. "Three, thank you, sir." Near the end of the initial thirty, her skin started to sting, and red marks were manifesting throughout her body. He had avoided striking between her legs directly, until number thirty. She murmured and was unable to utter a word for a moment. She desperately tried to comply with her orders, but her lips were paralyzed, as the pain, accompanied by a delightful tingle, permeated her torso.
He whipped her again, in the same location. An extra bonus. She considered saying 'thirty-one' but hesitated, fearing it would be considered cheeky. She understood that it didn't count unless she thanked him. The punishment wasn't for his pleasure but hers. Her need to be debased, humiliated, and wounded.
"Thirty, thank you, sir."
He untied her legs, and once she was freed from the waist down, he removed her skirt.
"Stand up."
She did this with great difficulty, no use of her arms. He placed her over the chair and began tying her legs once more, to the chair's legs. The next thirty were for her backside. It was an uncomfortable position even before the strokes began. There was a different sensation with the hand compared to the cat-o'-nine-tails. She wasn't certain which she preferred. He preferred the hand; she knew this for sure. He enjoyed feeling the skin as he hit it. The first stroke landed on her left cheek.
"Thirty-one, thank you, sir." She quickly said, before she felt the effects. He never used a pattern on her rear, so she wouldn't know which cheek to anticipate. After the sixtieth one, he softly placed his hand between her legs to feel her soaking pussy. It was incredibly wet. She had done well, so he decided to treat her.
He moved the TV in front of her and took off her blindfold; the film was now halfway through. He knelt behind her and started kissing her swollen rear. His lips felt nice on her stinging flesh. He slowly moved toward her anus and kissed it gently. She attempted to relax, yet knew she still had the belt to endure. He began rimming her, forcefully, pushing his tongue into her further and further. With one hand, he started to play with her vagina, first her clit, then inserting his finger inside of her. She continued to watch the scene, trying to grasp the plot which had totally flown over her head. She moaned a bit as he pushed a third finger into her pussy.
He grabbed something from the table, and then unexpectedly, she felt him push the plug into her rectum and stand up. In one sudden motion, everything stopped. They returned to the room, back to the scene, following a briefly pleasant moment of gratification, with a plugged-up anus; 'plugged up like a good slave should always be,' he had often stated. She pondered whether this was an indication of his current intentions. He untied her completely and then strolled over to lie down on the bed.
"Suck my cock, slut. Do some labor for a change."
She rushed over towards him. She enjoyed worshipping his body in this manner. She was happy to serve him for his pleasure and loved the little freedom to show him what a good girl she was. Though eager to feel him at the back of her throat, she started gently, kissing the insides of his thighs and place her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He unwound. Taking charge like this was exhausting, especially for: What was it now? about 60 hours? and he was very satisfied to just lie back and let her pleasure him. She commenced kissing the base of his prick, using her hand to press him against her face. She decided to surprise him a bit. She hoped he would like it: she had started softly, but then in one swift movement, she pressed her lips onto the tip of his dick and pushed her mouth down onto him, taking his entire length inside her, almost gagging.
He raised his head, which had been against the pillow, up, and his eyes, which had been closed, opened to view her returning his gaze, appreciatively looking at him as she slowly moved up his prick, getting ready to repeat the motion.
It didn't take long to make him come, pulsating within her mouth, and moaning loudly. He recalled the initial time she performed oral on him, before they even had sex, and how, right away, she seemed to know what he favored. For a moment, they just lazed there, the slave's head resting on her master's thigh. She swallowed his cum, although she could still taste it on her lips. He stroked her hair and whispered, "good girl. Very good girl."
"Thank you, sir. I love you, sir."
"I love you too, ... ... cunt."
He continued to stroke her hair. The film had finished. They probably had to watch it again, properly, but it had served its purpose for today perfectly. He whispered again, "Understand you still have twenty belt strokes owed?"
"Yes, master. I was just about to remind you," she smiled.
"Good girl." Her hair felt soft under his hand, his cock had shriveled, and his heart rate had slowed down.
"Now, put the ball-gag and blindfold back on and bend over the desk."
As she obeyed his instructions, he found his trousers and untied his belt from them. He walked over to the desk, opened the drawer, and located the small remote-controlled vibrator. He hadn't told her to prepare this, so it would be a pleasant surprise for her. Standing behind her, he pressed it against her vagina's entrance and slowly rubbed it back and forth. She was still very wet, and it slid in easily. When he turned it on, he felt her tremble slightly and tense her muscles.
"You don't have to do anything right now, darling, just relax and let go. You've been a good girl since I returned, but mistakes were made before, and you must be chastised, or you'll never learn. Do you understand?"
She nodded. He folded the belt in his hand and gently placed it on her back, rolling the soft leather down her body, over her cheeks, and onto her legs. Then he picked it up again and struck her left buttock with it. The belt was more painful than his hand or the cat-o'-nine-tails. He had kept it for last, so that she was already sensitive. The burning pain was severe. She attempted to focus on her pussy and the vibrator, gradually working toward an orgasm that it was unable to fulfil alone. He whipped her again, in the same location, and then again, for a total of ten whacks to her left buttock. The color differential from one cheek to the other was dramatic. He decided to take a photograph, something they could look at later, and then he increased the vibrator's intensity before commencing on her right cheek.
After the fifteenth crack, she felt the vibrator start to slip out, and she tensed her vagina to draw it back in. If it came out, she might be punished for it, but even if she didn't have to endure the last five without it would be a punishment. Seeing her body tense, he set the belt aside and began stroking her hair. She wondered if she had miscounted, perhaps it was over. She felt him finger her clit and breathe on the back of her neck.
He began caressing her, and with his free hand, he increased the vibrator's intensity by two settings. She was approaching the point of no return and violently shook her head. She wasn't permitted to climax without his consent, and she couldn't speak to tell him to halt.
"Are you reaching the end, toy?"
She nodded her head quickly, and turned it to face him slightly, even though she was still blindfolded.
"Just a few more seconds. Try to keep yourself in check."
She was panicked. She felt the orgasm approaching swiftly and didn't know if she wanted to follow through or not. He sped up.
"May I come, sir?"
She shook her head very violently. She did want to climax, but she hadn't been punished yet, and she desired to be good. She sensed from his tone that it could be a trap.
"No?"
She shook her head again.
"Okay then." Eventually, he stopped. The vibrator was still vibrating inside her, but it did not provide enough stimulation for her to climax. Her vagina was aching.
"Would you like me to complete your reprimand?"
She nodded. This wasn't enough for him. He removed her ball-gag.
"She, master. Please keep whipping me, master?"
"Beg me."
She turned around and dropped onto her knees.
"Oh please, master. I want you to hurt me. I broke your rules. I forgot to take my panties off, sir. The clamps came off, sir. Please use the belt on her arse, sir."
"Lie facedown on the bed."
Her hands moved toward where she believed the bed was, and she slowly rose and got into position. She was lying with her head turned to the side, which gave him an idea. He picked up the belt, folded it again, and forced it against her lips.
"Kiss it."
She obeyed.
"Again. Worship the item I will use to hurt you."
She kissed it with a committed sense of love.
The final five would be quickly given and inflicted across her entire backside. The red was starting to fade as he brought the first blow down.
"Sixteen, thank you, sir." This was not something he had expected, though he was pleased that she had thought of it without even asking.
As she experienced each stroke, she expressed her gratitude for the preceding one. Gritting her teeth, she begged her body not to leak tears. At the conclusion of each stroke, a few escaped. Despite the pain, she was tremendously aroused and knew the orgasm he would give her would be extraordinary. He sat on the bed's edge, leaning down to kiss her arse. She comprehended that this was an act of kindness, but each kiss caused discomfort due to her remaining soreness. He detached the plug, wiped it with a tissue, then placed it on the table. He deactivated the vibrator, withdrew it, and directed it toward her face. This was routine for them. She delighted in tasting herself, although it was designed to be degrading. Opening her mouth eagerly, she welcomed the vibrator in.
He slid a hand beneath her body and commenced caressing her clit. She hoped this would finally culminate in her peak, as she was uncertain if she could endure another tease. He shifted his body to recline next to her on the bed and continued to engage with her. He cuddled her head against his chest, thoughtfully cleansing the vibrator by inserting it in and out of her mouth.
"You're permitted to climax whenever you desire, whore."
A "thank you, master" was melodically uttered while the vibrator operated in her mouth.
She closed her eyes and attempted to daydream, recalling all of the actions they had executed.
He rose and shifted position to assume the role from behind. She instinctively adjusted accordingly; this was a consistent sequence they had adhered to. Her cunt slightly ached as he commenced penetration. He seized her nipples and she grabbed the headboard.
"Masturbate for me, darling."
She commenced stroking her clit, noticing his cock striking her cervix with each stroke.
"Can I?" she questioned.
"Indeed."
She felt her muscles tense as he neared climax.
As she climaxed, she shrieked and decorated the bedding with her fluids. He would take pleasure in expanding the number of changes in the sheets. On Monday evening, he had been detailed with ordering her to carry out basic chores naked. He erupted inside of her, observing the saturated patch reach his knees. She fell face-down and he, still erect, crumbled on top of her, his penis pressed against her cunt.
"Well done. That's all for today. You can find respite now. Tomorrow, I believe we'll take a leisurely stroll."
They grinned.
Read also:
Source: www.nice-escort.de
