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When The Itch Becomes Too Much
- Thread starter fat slave girl
- Start date
indeed we called that Solsticeit's the shortest night (or longest where Pp is)
Thessela
Beloved slavegirl
And so I am here.
"Go through to the changing rooms and strip. Every stitch please - then leave through the door on the other side of the room. Give this" she said, handing me my folded-up form, "to my colleague who'll be waiting there".
So many people, men and women. I take off my dress, hold it in front of me.
"The briefs too, now!"
I have to put down my dress. I feel so exposed in front of these strangers!
I slide my briefs down, off. So self conscious, so shy. I cover myself. They send me to the second room.
People against the wall. Feet spread, hands on heads. Oh!
"Your form!"
Another severe woman. She writes on my skin "Number 82" she says. "Against the wall".
I join the others, my feet apart, my hands on my head, my breasts raised and exposed. Is this why I am here? I tremble inside, fear or excitement I don't know ................
thanks to FSG for the template for this !
"Go through to the changing rooms and strip. Every stitch please - then leave through the door on the other side of the room. Give this" she said, handing me my folded-up form, "to my colleague who'll be waiting there".
So many people, men and women. I take off my dress, hold it in front of me.
"The briefs too, now!"
I have to put down my dress. I feel so exposed in front of these strangers!
I slide my briefs down, off. So self conscious, so shy. I cover myself. They send me to the second room.
People against the wall. Feet spread, hands on heads. Oh!
"Your form!"
Another severe woman. She writes on my skin "Number 82" she says. "Against the wall".
I join the others, my feet apart, my hands on my head, my breasts raised and exposed. Is this why I am here? I tremble inside, fear or excitement I don't know ................
thanks to FSG for the template for this !
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
I am now completely naked in front of the leather wearing young lady. She begins to tell me some rules before we begin. I am not supposed to say anything to her except yes mistress, or no mistress. This is serious business now, no joking around. There will be no sex, she is here to enjoy herself by inflicting pain on me. She is a professional sadist and enjoys inflicting pain, so much so that during our session if she begins to enjoy herself to the point of getting turned on, she will remove some of her clothes. If she gets really excited, she will strip nude. The more clothes that she removes, the more pain that I will experience. The more pain that I experience, the more she gets turned on, and the less clothes she wears. A very vicious cycle indeed! As she is telling me this, I begin to get a hard on. She starts to laugh and say we are ready to begin.
She cuffs my hands to the two chains that are hanging above me from the ceiling. She then ties my legs together at the ankles, so that I am making a nice "Y" with my body. She then puts mask over my eyes, so I will not be able to see her. She says that I am not worthy to see her do her work. Darn, and I thought that I would get to see her when she removes her clothes, should she begin to enjoy herself. Since I put on the form that she can use any instruments at her disposal, she says we will start off with her favorite bullwhip.
She stands behind me and says she is going to work on making my ass red. She strikes me several times across the ass with the bullwhip. Wow, that hurts, I wonder how many strikes she will do. She starts to count them off, one,two,three,four,five, all the way to fifteen. My butt is just burning. She stops and asks me how I am doing. I say "fine mistress". "Good" she says " that's what I like to hear from my slaves". "It's getting a little hot in here, I believe I will remove my top". I hear her toss something in the corner in front of me, could it be her top?
" There, I feel a little better now that I just removed my top, too bad my little slaveboy can't see my bare breasts, and my hardening nipples". Damn, this is frustrating, because I could tell that beneath that leather top, she had some might fine breasts, and now I have this mask covering my eyes.
"Let's work on that back of yours, make it red like your ass" and with those words I begin to feel the crack of the whip across my back. Again she counts them off, one,two,three,four, all the way to twenty this time. My entire back feels like it is on fire. She asks me "how we felling slaveboy". I slowly say "fine my mistress". "Excellent" she says. "You are indeed a fine slave, I think I need to remove my pants now, I am getting really hot". I hear her remove her boots and then her leather pants, she again tosses them into the corner in front of me, as if to make sure that I know that she is now nude.
"There, that is much better, I can now enjoy myself now that I am nude". Damn, damn,damn, she is now naked and I cannot see anything. I know for a fact that she had a fine butt and great legs, from the way she was filling out her tight leather pants.
(To be continued)
She cuffs my hands to the two chains that are hanging above me from the ceiling. She then ties my legs together at the ankles, so that I am making a nice "Y" with my body. She then puts mask over my eyes, so I will not be able to see her. She says that I am not worthy to see her do her work. Darn, and I thought that I would get to see her when she removes her clothes, should she begin to enjoy herself. Since I put on the form that she can use any instruments at her disposal, she says we will start off with her favorite bullwhip.
She stands behind me and says she is going to work on making my ass red. She strikes me several times across the ass with the bullwhip. Wow, that hurts, I wonder how many strikes she will do. She starts to count them off, one,two,three,four,five, all the way to fifteen. My butt is just burning. She stops and asks me how I am doing. I say "fine mistress". "Good" she says " that's what I like to hear from my slaves". "It's getting a little hot in here, I believe I will remove my top". I hear her toss something in the corner in front of me, could it be her top?
" There, I feel a little better now that I just removed my top, too bad my little slaveboy can't see my bare breasts, and my hardening nipples". Damn, this is frustrating, because I could tell that beneath that leather top, she had some might fine breasts, and now I have this mask covering my eyes.
"Let's work on that back of yours, make it red like your ass" and with those words I begin to feel the crack of the whip across my back. Again she counts them off, one,two,three,four, all the way to twenty this time. My entire back feels like it is on fire. She asks me "how we felling slaveboy". I slowly say "fine my mistress". "Excellent" she says. "You are indeed a fine slave, I think I need to remove my pants now, I am getting really hot". I hear her remove her boots and then her leather pants, she again tosses them into the corner in front of me, as if to make sure that I know that she is now nude.
"There, that is much better, I can now enjoy myself now that I am nude". Damn, damn,damn, she is now naked and I cannot see anything. I know for a fact that she had a fine butt and great legs, from the way she was filling out her tight leather pants.
(To be continued)
fat slave girl
Regina Servorum
So here we are, Barb and I. Or should I say Numbers 76 and 77? I can actually feel my identity slipping away, as I kneel here, naked, chained to a whipping post. 76 looks even more gorgeous, if that were possible, strapped down to a whipping bench. Number 75 is gone, led away by a fierce dominatrix. Evidently he chose a private cubicle for his session. I'm sure it won't be long before that erection is shooting its load onto the floor of that cubicle.
All around I hear the sound of implements on flesh, with the corresponding screams. In front of us there's a couple, possibly man and wife, being hand spanked in synchronicity, her over the lap of a burly attendant, him over a no-no sense matron's knee. I turn my head to see another brunette on her hands and knees. She's being pulled by a leash attached to her collar, and every sharp tug elicits an "aye Master!" from her, in a strong Scottish accent.
It was dreadful being prepared by that smelly old man, and I was very relieved to hear that he wouldn't be whipping either of us! We both need muscle and youth behind the leather which strikes our skin! And besides, I asked for a female disciplinarian.
She soon arrives, her tight shorts and crop top displaying toned limbs, all covered in tattoos. Her hair is short, almost shaved, and her butch look is completed by a pair of army boots. She has my form in her hand, in the other she holds the leather paddle, strap and cane I requested. She looks at the form, then at me. "So, you think you can be a ton-up bitch? 100 strokes! We'll soon find out. That's what you'll get, even if you start crying like a baby after the first ten, so my advice is - don't!"
"This one just wants it till she says stop!" It's the voice of a man, also in tight shorts, vest and boots, standing next to Number 76. In one hand he holds a Singapore Dragon cane, while the other is flexing an evil whip. "Think she'll cry off before you've given fatso there her whole hundred?"
"Let's find out" said the woman, "and let's make it interesting. Oral sex for whoever's submissive lasts longest!"
"Oral? Who from?" asked the man, putting his cane to one side and flexing the whip in both hands.
"Both of them, of course!" the woman replied, putting down the strap and cane, and stepping behind me with the paddle.
I heard 76 groan from over the bench. But was it a groan of horror...or excitement?
All around I hear the sound of implements on flesh, with the corresponding screams. In front of us there's a couple, possibly man and wife, being hand spanked in synchronicity, her over the lap of a burly attendant, him over a no-no sense matron's knee. I turn my head to see another brunette on her hands and knees. She's being pulled by a leash attached to her collar, and every sharp tug elicits an "aye Master!" from her, in a strong Scottish accent.
It was dreadful being prepared by that smelly old man, and I was very relieved to hear that he wouldn't be whipping either of us! We both need muscle and youth behind the leather which strikes our skin! And besides, I asked for a female disciplinarian.
She soon arrives, her tight shorts and crop top displaying toned limbs, all covered in tattoos. Her hair is short, almost shaved, and her butch look is completed by a pair of army boots. She has my form in her hand, in the other she holds the leather paddle, strap and cane I requested. She looks at the form, then at me. "So, you think you can be a ton-up bitch? 100 strokes! We'll soon find out. That's what you'll get, even if you start crying like a baby after the first ten, so my advice is - don't!"
"This one just wants it till she says stop!" It's the voice of a man, also in tight shorts, vest and boots, standing next to Number 76. In one hand he holds a Singapore Dragon cane, while the other is flexing an evil whip. "Think she'll cry off before you've given fatso there her whole hundred?"
"Let's find out" said the woman, "and let's make it interesting. Oral sex for whoever's submissive lasts longest!"
"Oral? Who from?" asked the man, putting his cane to one side and flexing the whip in both hands.
"Both of them, of course!" the woman replied, putting down the strap and cane, and stepping behind me with the paddle.
I heard 76 groan from over the bench. But was it a groan of horror...or excitement?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Excited by the reports of FSG and the others, I decided to go myself for a ‘stress relief treatment’ and made an appointment. In order to ‘situate’ the treatment I would go for in a little personal story, I decided to create for myself a specific case in which I would deserve some punishment. In the afternoon, I would depart from my work. I would leave under the presumption that I would have to make a site visit to one of my projects. In fact, although there were some uncertainties in that project, I knew a site visit (another one) would not resolve these. But I told I needed to check out some things and I left. The fact that my team coach was absent for a business meeting with a client, made it easier to make my own decision and get away. Obviously, I made my site visit, but it did not take a lot of time, as it was of no use. But although it was still working hours, I did not return to work. Instead, I went to the ‘institution’. For my punishment for organizing for myself an unnecessary site visit and then not returning to work.
So, on arriaval at the institution, I got the famous form to fill in.
Male or female disciplinarian? Male! With female supervisor.
Which implements and how many strokes? The whip, standing, arms overhead. Twenty.
Nude or just bare bottom? All nude.
In the public punishment room, or a private booth? Public, mixed sex.
Quietly clinical, or with harsh verbal humiliation? Formal! Counting strokes!
Just punishment, or corner time before/after? Together with the group I will be whipped.
Personal time after the punishment? Debriefing with the supervisor.
After checking in, I had to wait in a room. Then, some matron came in.
Numbers 179, 181, 195, 201, 222, 225, 230 and 233, follow me. Number 225 was me. She brought us into some clinical space and ordered :
“All of you, strip now, everything, to the bare bottom, put your clothes into the locker and no talking or comments!”
I remembered the prospectus of the institute mentioned something about ‘our friendly and skillful staff will answer all your questions and fulfill all your needs’.
“Now follow me to the next room! You will stand there, face to the wall, hands in the neck, legs spread, no looking sideways, and remember, no talking! We shall teach you a lesson here, all of you, with your awkward preferences!”
Friendly staff? And my granddad is the pope! I was about to protest, when I realized the staff was exactly giving me the service I had paid for.
After some more waiting time, just looking at a white wall, they brought us two by two into the public room. They put us on a row, alternatingly a male and a female. They attached our left and right hand each to a leather cuff, hanging from the ceiling by a chain over our head. Some guy with a whip oversaw it, together with the matron, clearly the supervisor.
Finally, we stood all cuffed, naked on a row and waited anxiously and excited what was about to come, but the matron told the executioner that numbers 240 and 241 were still to arrive.
Then they came in. We stood face to the entrance, so I could see them enter. They stepped in, naked, with their hands in the neck. Number 240, a woman, was my team coach, number 241, a man, was the client she was supposed to have a business meeting with.
Reconsider 'personal time'?
So, on arriaval at the institution, I got the famous form to fill in.
Male or female disciplinarian? Male! With female supervisor.
Which implements and how many strokes? The whip, standing, arms overhead. Twenty.
Nude or just bare bottom? All nude.
In the public punishment room, or a private booth? Public, mixed sex.
Quietly clinical, or with harsh verbal humiliation? Formal! Counting strokes!
Just punishment, or corner time before/after? Together with the group I will be whipped.
Personal time after the punishment? Debriefing with the supervisor.
After checking in, I had to wait in a room. Then, some matron came in.
Numbers 179, 181, 195, 201, 222, 225, 230 and 233, follow me. Number 225 was me. She brought us into some clinical space and ordered :
“All of you, strip now, everything, to the bare bottom, put your clothes into the locker and no talking or comments!”
I remembered the prospectus of the institute mentioned something about ‘our friendly and skillful staff will answer all your questions and fulfill all your needs’.
“Now follow me to the next room! You will stand there, face to the wall, hands in the neck, legs spread, no looking sideways, and remember, no talking! We shall teach you a lesson here, all of you, with your awkward preferences!”
Friendly staff? And my granddad is the pope! I was about to protest, when I realized the staff was exactly giving me the service I had paid for.
After some more waiting time, just looking at a white wall, they brought us two by two into the public room. They put us on a row, alternatingly a male and a female. They attached our left and right hand each to a leather cuff, hanging from the ceiling by a chain over our head. Some guy with a whip oversaw it, together with the matron, clearly the supervisor.
Finally, we stood all cuffed, naked on a row and waited anxiously and excited what was about to come, but the matron told the executioner that numbers 240 and 241 were still to arrive.
Then they came in. We stood face to the entrance, so I could see them enter. They stepped in, naked, with their hands in the neck. Number 240, a woman, was my team coach, number 241, a man, was the client she was supposed to have a business meeting with.
Reconsider 'personal time'?
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
Update on number 75:
After whipping my butt and back, the Dominatrix has become excited, to the point of her removing her clothes.
I still have the mask covering my eyes, so I cannot view her nakedness. She has decided to work my chest, so she has changed instruments. She has traded her bullwhip for a cat o' nine tails. She then proceeds to whip my upper chest, paying special attention to my nipples. After many strokes of the cat o' nine tails, my upper chest and nipples are now on fire to match by burning backside. I am beginning to wonder how I will be able to put my clothes back on. I am sure the fabric of the clothes will intensify the burning feeling.
All the whipping has not caused my cock to go soft, it has been showing that I have been turned on by this, much more than I would have imagined. Just as I have been thinking this thought, she stops the whipping, and says "Let's give your cock some attention, and I have just the thing". "What I have here is a special instrument that I made myself, it is a plastic paddle with plastic spikes on it". "A few whacks of this paddle, and no more erection". She then laughs and says " OK get ready for strike one". And with that I feel the spiked paddle hit my engorged cock, right on the head. Bang! The pain is intense, and before I can think, she then strikes again, which must have caused a little bleeding, because she stops and says she will get a towel. She wraps the head of my cock in a towel, and says it'll be fine, just a little blood. She says she has used the paddle on nipples and glutes before, but never a cock. She always wanted to, and she got so excited that she wanted to try it on me. She then dresses and removes my mask. She then removes the chains on my arms and ankles.
The session is over, and I am left with whip marks on my back, butt and chest. And one very sore cock and blue balls to boot. Wow! What a great experience for a masochist like me
After whipping my butt and back, the Dominatrix has become excited, to the point of her removing her clothes.
I still have the mask covering my eyes, so I cannot view her nakedness. She has decided to work my chest, so she has changed instruments. She has traded her bullwhip for a cat o' nine tails. She then proceeds to whip my upper chest, paying special attention to my nipples. After many strokes of the cat o' nine tails, my upper chest and nipples are now on fire to match by burning backside. I am beginning to wonder how I will be able to put my clothes back on. I am sure the fabric of the clothes will intensify the burning feeling.
All the whipping has not caused my cock to go soft, it has been showing that I have been turned on by this, much more than I would have imagined. Just as I have been thinking this thought, she stops the whipping, and says "Let's give your cock some attention, and I have just the thing". "What I have here is a special instrument that I made myself, it is a plastic paddle with plastic spikes on it". "A few whacks of this paddle, and no more erection". She then laughs and says " OK get ready for strike one". And with that I feel the spiked paddle hit my engorged cock, right on the head. Bang! The pain is intense, and before I can think, she then strikes again, which must have caused a little bleeding, because she stops and says she will get a towel. She wraps the head of my cock in a towel, and says it'll be fine, just a little blood. She says she has used the paddle on nipples and glutes before, but never a cock. She always wanted to, and she got so excited that she wanted to try it on me. She then dresses and removes my mask. She then removes the chains on my arms and ankles.
The session is over, and I am left with whip marks on my back, butt and chest. And one very sore cock and blue balls to boot. Wow! What a great experience for a masochist like me
Why did I ever accept the dare? This place is scary. No sooner had I been pushed into the punishment room than this hulk in T-shirt, jeans and Timberland boots takes me by the hair, punches me in the stomach and drags my doubled-up naked body across a floor littered with battered, and in some cases bloody, girls and guys who had already taken more than they could handle. I gasp for air and kick futilely as I bump along over the prone bodies until we reach a spanking bench. He lifts me slender body easily, flips me over in mid-air and slams me down hard on the bench. I cry out and tears fill my eyes as he stretches me out, secures my wrists so that my arms are pulled down to their fullest extent, and spreads my thighs wide. Fully exposed and helpless, he begins to smack me rhythmically on the buttocks with a large leather paddle….left and right, left and right and then full across. I buck and scream, and throw my head and long brown hair about. My dangling boobs bounce and sway from side to side, and my reddened cheeks shake and quiver with each resounding smack. My butt stings from the relentless spanking. I growl and howl with each brutal smack, and beg for mercy and whimper pitifully in between. But now I hear a commotion, and turn my head. A butch-looking muscular woman has the fat girl (number 77) in tow, and looks like she means business.
but I like stupid girls......................and if they are redheads with speckles ...............................................
Thessela
Beloved slavegirl
but I like stupid girls......................and if they are redheads with speckles ...............................................
Oh sorry Admi, no and no
Just stupid
Thessela
Beloved slavegirl
A touch on my hip startles me, I almost jump!
"You, hands behind your back, come this way"
Another serious faced woman, hard and scary. Where do they come from?
She led me through the room and corridor beyond. Hands behind, shoulders hunched, I try to hide my nakedness. But no one looks, just another shamed slave.
Into a small room. There is a curtain against one wall?
"Hands behind head, legs apart."
Again I am here, naked and open, and available. And alone.
The woman takes a cord and pulls open the curtain ................. it is a mirror!
She leaves me, closes the door.
I am left alone with myself, my nakedness, my shame.
Nothing to see but myself. I look into my eyes . . . why are you here Thessela?
I dare not relax, I stand ready, but for what?
"You, hands behind your back, come this way"
Another serious faced woman, hard and scary. Where do they come from?
She led me through the room and corridor beyond. Hands behind, shoulders hunched, I try to hide my nakedness. But no one looks, just another shamed slave.
Into a small room. There is a curtain against one wall?
"Hands behind head, legs apart."
Again I am here, naked and open, and available. And alone.
The woman takes a cord and pulls open the curtain ................. it is a mirror!
She leaves me, closes the door.
I am left alone with myself, my nakedness, my shame.
Nothing to see but myself. I look into my eyes . . . why are you here Thessela?
I dare not relax, I stand ready, but for what?
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Thessela cannot tell how long she has been left standing there. She feels so alone. Her legs spread apart, her hands clasped behind her head, facing the mirror that reflects her shame.
There is a click as the door opens. She starts to turn towards the sound but hears a sharp voice.
“82! You were told to face the mirror. DO NOT TURN!” And she turns her face back to the glass.
As she looks at the mirror Thessela can see a man approach from her right and her eyes follow him as he moves behind her. He is older, his broad chest and muscled arms are bare but he wears black jeans with a thick leather belt and black boots. His face is covered by a black mask. In his right hand he carries a short crop and, hanging from his belt, a short handled whip with a number of leather tails.
He stands so close behind Thessela that she can feel his breath on her neck and feel his warmth against her back and her arse. “She who was Thessela is now 82. You have no name. You are just a number.”
He runs his crop down her thigh. “Open your legs wider 82.” You are slow to obey and he wraps you sharply across the thigh with the crop. You spread your legs wider, ashamed that you can see, in the mirror, your sex begin to part too.
He runs his around her ribs, cupping your breasts and lifting them, feeling their weight. “Look at yourself 82. See how I am holding your breasts up. What if it was not a mirror but a window? What if there was a crowd looking in?”
His grips her nipples between finger and thumb and stretches them out. They harden at his touch. “Look 82. See how your nipples erect at the touch of a stranger, how they respond to my touch. What would the crowd say 82? Would they laugh at your arousal at a stranger’s touch?”
He runs his hands down your belly and through the bush that hides your sex. His hand cups your sex, fingers spreading the lips that guard you. You are wet there and his middle finger slips easily inside you. “Look at yourself 82. Look at yourself in that mirror, at how wet you are, at how easily my finger slipped inside. Imagine that is not a mirror. Imagine that is a window and a crowd is watching. How does it feel to have a stranger fingering your wet sex?”
“Bend forwards 82. Let your breasts swing beneath you. See how they change shape as they hang there? What would a watching crowd say 82? Would they cheer at the sight of those hanging breasts?”
He runs his hands over your buttocks, over your rump that is stretched as you bend. “Keep your hands clasped behind your head 82. DO NOT MOVE THEM.” And he begins to fan your arse with his multi-tailed whip.
He does not whip you hard but the tails sting and your arse becomes red. As red as the blushing in your cheeks as you look at yourself in the mirror, breasts hanging down, legs spread wide, your arse being brushed with his whip and, between your thighs, your sex wet and aroused.
He grasps your hair and raises your body. With your eyes fixed on that shining mirror you watch your breasts change shape as you rise. He stands close behind you, so close that you can feel his hard cock in the furrow between your gently whipped buttocks. His fingers find your wet sex and he slips two inside while his thumb rakes across your erect little clit. You push your arse hard against him. You want him don’t you? You want him to take you there while you watch him in the mirror.
With his mouth so close to your ear he whispers, “Are you watching yourself in the mirror 82? Are you watching how you push back against me while my fingers work your wet sex? Are you watching yourself think on me taking you?”
“But 82. Did you ever think that that mirror might not be as it seems? What would you think if you knew that mirror was two-way? That there were people watching you from behind the glass? That they have been watching you since the moment she opened the curtain and had you spread your legs for them? That they been watching me fondle your breasts, play with your nipples, finger your sex.”
He leaves her then. Walks to the door, closes it behind him and leaves Thessela to contemplate what might be there behind her mirror, who might be there behind her mirror, how many might be there behind her mirror. All watching her as she watches herself.
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Thessela
Beloved slavegirl
An older man! I see him in the mirror.
Not what I expected, but .......
Strong, forceful. I feel his hands .......
He touches me, plays with me.
Could it be true? The mirror a window? That people watch me, see his fingers penetrate me, fondle me.
See my arousal ...... shameful as it is, I cannot help it, my body responds to him! I could not bear it if he took me like this, if this is true! But, I feel, inside ........
Is this what I am?
Is this what I want?
He leaves me in my shame
Not what I expected, but .......
Strong, forceful. I feel his hands .......
He touches me, plays with me.
Could it be true? The mirror a window? That people watch me, see his fingers penetrate me, fondle me.
See my arousal ...... shameful as it is, I cannot help it, my body responds to him! I could not bear it if he took me like this, if this is true! But, I feel, inside ........
Is this what I am?
Is this what I want?
He leaves me in my shame
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fat slave girl
Regina Servorum
CRRAAAAAACCCCKKKK!!!!
The paddle lands on my bum. I feel the flesh wobbling, even as the pain registers in my brain. Fuck, that bitch can use a paddle! And I know I'll get no mercy either, none of these soft-hearted feelings men can sometimes get for girls, thinking with their cocks, not their sadistic brains. When you want a proper punishment, nothing beats a bull dyke!
Not that it sounds as if number 76 is getting off lightly with her Master. I hear the brunette howl as the first crack of the whip scorches her beautiful rounded cheeks. One of us is going to end up with a mouthful of pussy as a starter, followed by a prick main course. If it were me, would I be disgusted or pleased? If it were number 76, would I be grateful or jealous as I watched?
As I try to sort out these feelings stroke number 2 of the thirty I ordered with the paddle lands. "Fucking stupid fat bitch!" says the bull dyke, as my arse gets hammered again. Ah yes, I did also ask for verbal humiliation, didn't I!
"Fucking whore!" spits the Master, as the whip cuts across number 76's skin again. Seems she ticked that box, too. We have so much in common! I must get her number before I leave...
As the strokes continue to land and the insults keep rolling, a beautiful and much younger dark-haired girl tiptoes across the room, an 82 written on her bottom. She's trembling as she walks, and it's with great disappointment I watch her continue into a private booth.
"Young enough to be your daughter, you fucking lesbian perve!" CRAAAAAACCCKKK!!!! Oops, seems my wandering eye wasn't subtle enough! This Mistress misses nothing....
The paddle lands on my bum. I feel the flesh wobbling, even as the pain registers in my brain. Fuck, that bitch can use a paddle! And I know I'll get no mercy either, none of these soft-hearted feelings men can sometimes get for girls, thinking with their cocks, not their sadistic brains. When you want a proper punishment, nothing beats a bull dyke!
Not that it sounds as if number 76 is getting off lightly with her Master. I hear the brunette howl as the first crack of the whip scorches her beautiful rounded cheeks. One of us is going to end up with a mouthful of pussy as a starter, followed by a prick main course. If it were me, would I be disgusted or pleased? If it were number 76, would I be grateful or jealous as I watched?
As I try to sort out these feelings stroke number 2 of the thirty I ordered with the paddle lands. "Fucking stupid fat bitch!" says the bull dyke, as my arse gets hammered again. Ah yes, I did also ask for verbal humiliation, didn't I!
"Fucking whore!" spits the Master, as the whip cuts across number 76's skin again. Seems she ticked that box, too. We have so much in common! I must get her number before I leave...
As the strokes continue to land and the insults keep rolling, a beautiful and much younger dark-haired girl tiptoes across the room, an 82 written on her bottom. She's trembling as she walks, and it's with great disappointment I watch her continue into a private booth.
"Young enough to be your daughter, you fucking lesbian perve!" CRAAAAAACCCKKK!!!! Oops, seems my wandering eye wasn't subtle enough! This Mistress misses nothing....
A short interlude from me while the participants regain their breath
The recent story of Thessela and PP involving a mirror got me thinking. Thessela
stands in front of a mirror, confronting her own naked and submissive self. PP
turns up, and suggests to her that it is a two way mirror, that other people can
see her stand in her shame in front of it.
It strikes me that the mirror can be a metaphor for this site. We strip ourselves and expose our
innermost desires. We stand before it and it reflect back to us our most
fundamental wishes, however embarrassing they may be. And, like the two way
mirror, we are aware that there are other people out there, watching us. We
can't fully see them, but we know they are there. Are they enjoying the
spectacle? Are they judging us? It can be a raw experience, I'm sure, for a new member.
But maybe, hopefully, it is helping us understand ourselves better, come to terms
with who we are.
The recent story of Thessela and PP involving a mirror got me thinking. Thessela
stands in front of a mirror, confronting her own naked and submissive self. PP
turns up, and suggests to her that it is a two way mirror, that other people can
see her stand in her shame in front of it.
It strikes me that the mirror can be a metaphor for this site. We strip ourselves and expose our
innermost desires. We stand before it and it reflect back to us our most
fundamental wishes, however embarrassing they may be. And, like the two way
mirror, we are aware that there are other people out there, watching us. We
can't fully see them, but we know they are there. Are they enjoying the
spectacle? Are they judging us? It can be a raw experience, I'm sure, for a new member.
But maybe, hopefully, it is helping us understand ourselves better, come to terms
with who we are.
Hondoboot2
QUAESTOR PULCHRITUDINIS
Interesting thought phlebas.A short interlude from me while the participants regain their breath
The recent story of Thessela and PP involving a mirror got me thinking. Thessela
stands in front of a mirror, confronting her own naked and submissive self. PP
turns up, and suggests to her that it is a two way mirror, that other people can
see her stand in her shame in front of it.
It strikes me that the mirror can be a metaphor for this site. We strip ourselves and expose our
innermost desires. We stand before it and it reflect back to us our most
fundamental wishes, however embarrassing they may be. And, like the two way
mirror, we are aware that there are other people out there, watching us. We
can't fully see them, but we know they are there. Are they enjoying the
spectacle? Are they judging us? It can be a raw experience, I'm sure, for a new member.
But maybe, hopefully, it is helping us understand ourselves better, come to terms
with who we are.
I am sure some people are shocked at what they see and read on this site, especially if they are not a member, and find this site by accident
