“Come on, princess, let's play for real! ”, Caly exclaimed, leaving a few soumis at her feet, and we went into the "Salle gynéco".
Caly tells me get on my knees on top of the table and I arch my back, my forehead pressed against the back, my arms in front. With a rope, Caly attaches my wrists through the rings of my bracelets: my arms over my head, the rope attached to the foot of the table.
A position of torment, of prayer, of offering.
We're in the shadows, I'm unaware if there's spectators or not, and I wait.
“Too bad I don't have my whip! ”, she teases me. And I agree, it's a shame!
Caly doesn't hesitate to strike me hard with her martinet with thick latex straps, over my back, my ass… It's heavy, the thick straps open, fanning out over my flesh, and her powerful blows make me moan.
And then, her hands. Caly spanks me, with big rhythmic slaps — she plays, I love to feel her hands on me, my cheeks burn, and I make small cries.
Suddenly, I feel the pressure of her knee slipped between my thighs, against my sex… her hands catch my breasts from behind, she presses their roundness before seeking the nipples… surprised to find the new rings instead of the barbells, she pulls on them. I murmur that the rings are not the same ones, so that there's no confusion.
With her hand, she grabs a handful of my hair and pulls. I love this eroticism, her hold on me. She plays, spanking me again, slipping her hands between my thighs, pulling on the rings, slapping my pussy with the palm of her hand… she plays with me, to make me moan and cry out, and I love this closeness, I love her touch so sensual and dominatrix at the same time.
Sometimes she laughs, because she sees me under her power, satisfied perhaps with what she stirs in me from my small cries which show her the edge between pleasure & pain.
Yes, she excites me, and all my being is opening to her.
Then, small sharp blows on my ass… from an instrument that I don't recognize — a crop, a small whip?? Where did she get this instrument? I only saw the martinet, and there's nothing else in this room ! Later, I discovered the bag which she'd cleverly hid in her clothes.
“Come on, princess, think a little bit! What is this instrument? Didn't you tell me that you didn't get enough the last time? ”, she kids me, pressing the length of the cane against my ass.
“The black latex cane! ”
This realization makes me shiver — it's obvious that she would have taken her new cane, since I'd written that the cane was difficult for me. A Domina will choose the instrument that her prey likes the least.
And swoosh, the blows start, and I moan, moving in reaction to each strike.
“Stop being so delicate!” she orders me, before asking me the street number of my flat.
“Number five," I reply.
“Then, I will give you five blows! ”
And the pain and the force of each strike makes straighten a little in reaction, in spite of myself.
“Arch! ”, she orders me, with each blow.
Her strikes move down a little each time on my cheeks, until the last stinging blow falls across that so tender place in between the buttocks and the top of the thighs, and I cry out.
“Watch out, princess,” she tells me, “or I will be the only one to mark you!”
And she unties me, this carnal and flirtatious game over, my ass is on fire, with beautiful bruises!
Caly tells me get on my knees on top of the table and I arch my back, my forehead pressed against the back, my arms in front. With a rope, Caly attaches my wrists through the rings of my bracelets: my arms over my head, the rope attached to the foot of the table.
A position of torment, of prayer, of offering.
We're in the shadows, I'm unaware if there's spectators or not, and I wait.
“Too bad I don't have my whip! ”, she teases me. And I agree, it's a shame!
Caly doesn't hesitate to strike me hard with her martinet with thick latex straps, over my back, my ass… It's heavy, the thick straps open, fanning out over my flesh, and her powerful blows make me moan.
And then, her hands. Caly spanks me, with big rhythmic slaps — she plays, I love to feel her hands on me, my cheeks burn, and I make small cries.
Suddenly, I feel the pressure of her knee slipped between my thighs, against my sex… her hands catch my breasts from behind, she presses their roundness before seeking the nipples… surprised to find the new rings instead of the barbells, she pulls on them. I murmur that the rings are not the same ones, so that there's no confusion.
With her hand, she grabs a handful of my hair and pulls. I love this eroticism, her hold on me. She plays, spanking me again, slipping her hands between my thighs, pulling on the rings, slapping my pussy with the palm of her hand… she plays with me, to make me moan and cry out, and I love this closeness, I love her touch so sensual and dominatrix at the same time.
Sometimes she laughs, because she sees me under her power, satisfied perhaps with what she stirs in me from my small cries which show her the edge between pleasure & pain.
Yes, she excites me, and all my being is opening to her.
Then, small sharp blows on my ass… from an instrument that I don't recognize — a crop, a small whip?? Where did she get this instrument? I only saw the martinet, and there's nothing else in this room ! Later, I discovered the bag which she'd cleverly hid in her clothes.
“Come on, princess, think a little bit! What is this instrument? Didn't you tell me that you didn't get enough the last time? ”, she kids me, pressing the length of the cane against my ass.
“The black latex cane! ”
This realization makes me shiver — it's obvious that she would have taken her new cane, since I'd written that the cane was difficult for me. A Domina will choose the instrument that her prey likes the least.
And swoosh, the blows start, and I moan, moving in reaction to each strike.
“Stop being so delicate!” she orders me, before asking me the street number of my flat.
“Number five," I reply.
“Then, I will give you five blows! ”
And the pain and the force of each strike makes straighten a little in reaction, in spite of myself.
“Arch! ”, she orders me, with each blow.
Her strikes move down a little each time on my cheeks, until the last stinging blow falls across that so tender place in between the buttocks and the top of the thighs, and I cry out.
“Watch out, princess,” she tells me, “or I will be the only one to mark you!”
And she unties me, this carnal and flirtatious game over, my ass is on fire, with beautiful bruises!
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