Nadya's Wedding: Chapter 2
Oh darling, you're absolutely stunning, aglowing in stunning white. Your ass is even more intense now since it's glowing bright red. My fingers glide along the ridges of your spine, and you shiver as they hit the highly-sensitive area beneath. The sixth stroke is on its way. I shorten my belt by wrapping it around my hand tighter, making it more compact and with more tension. This means it'll strike harder. I aim just below the center line of your exposed skin, which is lighter compared to the areas above and below due to previous strokes. It's kind of like the median strip in the middle of the highway of your punishment, but it's not going to last long.
The quiet has completely engulfed the room, and then your scream echoes through it like an icicle shattering from a cliff. It was a scream that originated from the depths of your stomach, but it leaves a few in the crowd breathless as well. Some sobs follow, but others can't help but groan out loud, revealing their hidden pleasure. Bodies in the room arch their heads back, clasp their hands in between their thighs, and lift their blouses to reveal their exposed breasts - not to mention the flush above. Men unzip themselves or are unzipped, showing off their erections. These people are so turned on by this.
Your sobs have stopped, so I gently wipe away your tears with my hand. You long for me to be in front of you and kiss you, but no, I'll stay behind you and kiss the back of your neck instead. As I do so, I accidentally press my denim against your raw ass and you gasp, then try to push back into me. Not yet, baby. Only four more strokes are left.
I kneel down in front of you and spread your legs a bit, so I can fit between them. Since your knees are on the bench, raising your ass to the right height, my face is now even with your crack. Now, I can closely study my mark on you. I notice the changes in the color and texture from your tan line at your panties' waist to the deep violet where you've taken the most strokes. I take each cheek in my hands, feeling the heat radiating from your skin and you trembling slightly.
Admiring and caressing your ass isn't the only reason I need to be there. I push my nose up to where your crack forms. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply - the unmistakable scent of your arousal almost leaps out of your wet slit.
Outside, the crowd is almost falling over themselves in anticipation. If the cameras were rolling, you'd see the disarray of clothing - buttons undone, jeans unzipped, hems lifted, and breasts exposed - and disarray in behavior - couples lost in kisses, stroking each other's bodies, and unsuspecting partners fondling themselves.
We control the schedule of this chaos - it's what makes today a special day. It's like we're on our dream vacation, allowed to indulge in our passions for however long we desire. The next phase in my plan requires your preparations. Brace yourself, baby. Keep your posture in check, take deep breaths and try not to grip too tight. I see you push your ass up a bit, letting me know you're ready. I stand up, controlling my breathing, whisper "I love you," and then twist my entire body quickly counterclockwise to hit you with the belt again.
Remember your rowmate in green? She's sitting right in front of you, legs spread wide for your enjoyment. She was fully immersed in your tearful face and lost herself in your intense focus. When my belt hit you for the seventh time, your mouth gaped wide to release the pain in a deafening scream. She found her release just then, thrusting two fingers inside herself, and entering a mind-blowing orgasm. Her body shook uncontrollably, sending her head back, until her sobs started to subside. Her neighbors placed their hands on her shaky knees - a friendly reminder that they shared this moment with her, while the man behind her held her shoulders.
The intensity of witnessing a woman's orgasm is utterly mesmerizing. It can heal even the deepest burdens as you witness your stunning friend swept away by unbridled pleasure. And this joy is something you have given her through simply being present, dressed in white and wedded, standing before her while she watches your submission and listens to you roar. Today, the entire community will experience the same level of pleasure and delight.
The captivating suggestiveness of your gymnastic form, your toned and perfectly curvy derriere, is thanks to your dedication to fitness and your teaching others to dance with finesse, grace, and gravity-defying agility. Today, your beautiful body is open for all to see, your ass radiating warmth from the seven strikes of my belt, and the knowledge that you will be friend-fucked to the extreme later.
It's fascinating how our public personas and personal desires are generally separated. The heartache of those unable to express their sexuality openly in a public setting, with friends, and family is all too common. Here, however, there are no restrictions. After your honeymoon, your coworkers will gladly share how much they enjoyed your public humiliation and perhaps recount their own sexual journeys. And you can kiss them, inviting them to touch your wet sex from those encounters, piping hot like today's desires.
The camera woman's gaze is fixated on your backside like a bee to a blossom. Your beautiful body is on full display, your ass glowing crimson from the seven belt-tanning, and you know that shortly you'll be in the spotlight, experiencing new pleasures. I gently slide my hand into your dripping pussy, parting your legs a little wider to make it easier. The camera woman inches closer, capturing this intimate moment for our audience outside. Lust rolls through the room like a wave as I plunge my fingers into your slick, wet core. I withdraw and offer my fingers to your mouth, a small reward for your submission, and also to calm you before the next strike. Your lips hungrily accept my digits, savoring your personal juices. You've closed your eyes, and through arousal memories of me whispering vulgarities in your ear to incite your lust.
As humans, we sometimes mirror others' actions, whether we mean to or not. You can see it in how similar poses can form in casual conversation or the synchronized tilting of heads. But today, this group of people, lost in their own carnal desires, has begun finger-sucking at a rapid pace. Panties have been casually shoved down, and fingers have been inserted. Lips have been locked with other lips, tantalizing tongues brushing across each other. Secretly, some daring couples are slipping fingers into each other's wetness while others strip to complete nudity. Your scream sent the room into a frenzy, and these couples decided to savor each other.
Now it's time for your final stroke. I withdraw my fingers from your gaze-glued lips and trace your hair with them. The hem of your dress has inched down almost to your bottom, so I lift it back up to keep you properly displayed. I adore you, Nadya. I compose myself and stare at your near-naked form with a sweltering mixture of desire and affection. Then my belt whizzes through the air, hitting the sweet spot yet again.
Perhaps if you wanted to, you could've muffled your scream, acted more quietly, or ended sooner to appease the crowd. But there's something incredibly freeing about losing total composure: screaming at the top of your lungs, crying uncontrollably, climaxing under the force of a beating. This unapologetic release had a significant impact on the room, sparking emotional gasps from the women in ever-growing circles. People couldn't stand it - they'd been holding back way too long. As your body convulses and sobs by inches, a series of powerful orgasms echo your screams from around the circle. The sound of a woman writhing in ecstasy seems to be mirrored in the primal, animalistic cries of pleasure from every direction. A different kind of scream, a legend born from evolution, has an urgency and passion meant to invite a male to seize and fill her with his semen. [As I remove my belt in anticipation, you’re on all fours and exposed from the waist down.']
Until now, I've enjoyed giving you enough time between each strike to regain your composure and build anticipation in the room. It's also for my own pleasure. Much like how I savor unwrapping a present slowly or delaying opening it until later, the waiting magnifies my arousal.
I find it captivating when you're naked, especially when certain parts of your body are still concealed. Being naked from the waist down is almost hotter than being fully exposed. It's a display of confidence and bravery that would typically shock in other situations.
I love how you're on your knees right now, with your rear arched up, your legs parted slightly. This position represents submission but more importantly trust. You can't see what's happening behind you, yet you submit and trust me completely, allowing me to do whatever I desire. The thought of me dictating your pleasure is incredibly arousing.
I relish closely observing and interpreting your body's reactions and reactions. The smattering of sweat, the lingering shudders from the prior strike, the expanding and deepening color.
My mind picture what I'm about to do to you, which adds to my excitement. As I imagine the sensations you'll experience, my desire intensifies.
But this time, I ignore all that and the ninth stroke, which lands while you're still sobbing, catches you off guard. Your response is more a primal howl than a scream. You lose your grip and briefly collapse onto the bar. You reflexively attempt to touch your aching rear, but as soon as you do, you scream again due to the raw skin. Perhaps I should have restrained your hands beforehand. You regain your grip on the bar and gasp and sob uncontrollably.
You've endured nine hits, and there's only one left. But all of a sudden, it feels unbearable to you. I know you're engaged in an internal war of mind over body. The noise in the room has diminished almost completely as everyone is fixated on the abrupt development. If you would just look up and see the gazes upon you, you would see everyone urging you to overcome this physical battle.
I've never doubted your strength of mind or your high pain tolerance. I've seen your muscles regain their stiffness and your breathing slow. The room's occupants also relax and smile. I kneel in front of you, cradle your wet face in my hands, and plant a loving kiss on your forehead. I express my affection through a tender smile and convey it with my eyes. Just one more. Then a whole new realm of pleasure awaits.
You smile back, and the bond between us feels so rich and meaningful that the world seems to vanish around us. I kiss you on the forehead again and stand up, taking my place behind you. Just one more. I measure the length of the belt in my hand, taking my time to calm my emotions. I rewind the belt, then adjust it, making sure it's the precise length. And then, I step back and position myself. In the near-total quiet, your breaths can be heard. I close my eyes, inhale deeply, open them, and swing the woven band with vigor against your quivering bottom.
The intensity of the pain you experience and vocalize is unprecedented. It's brutally intense, yet it's everything we've longed for. Although your screams are ear-shattering in reality, they sound muffled to me, akin to being in a rapid descent on a plane. My awareness is preoccupied with the intense arousal in my pants and the dampness at the tip of my penis. Then, as you struggle for breath, I draw your head towards me and shove my erection into your mouth, stifling your cries.
Read also:
- Uninhabited Abode, Satisfied Appetite
- Closest Pal Turns Into Skilled Expert
- Stories From Celeste: The Seductress
- Airbnb Shines at Display
Source: www.nice-escort.de
