The I
01-23-2011, 11:05 AM
”Aiiiee” you cry out, your legs moving, by instinct, a moment to close themselves around your hurt. You open again the moment after, slender fingers wrapped around and behind your knees, keeping them up, apart, making you completely open, exposed, like that on your back. I smile as I see you looking up at me so prettily, eyes pleading… for what? – for Me not to strike you again? – Or for just that? For me to forgive you for having, a short moment, done what’s natural when hurt and tried to shield yourself? Or all of those things?
My half-amused smile seems to fit either possibility as I study those pleading eyes, the tip of my cane caressing the soft skin on the inside of your thigh, just where I stroke moments before and you’re almost certain I will strike again. I study my girl, my eyes gracing your features, as I try to determine whether you look forward to it with anticipation, fear… or perhaps the kind of love that shows itself in the will to suffer? Meanwhile I cast a glance to your cunt which lies wide open from your posture, the puffy silky lips exposed from my allowing no hair on this part of my property and swollen from my treatment.
I revel in feeling of my instrument as it sings, cutting a slice of air, the balance perfect in my hand, the length translating even the modest movement of my arm and wrist to a vicious effect at your end of the tool as I paint another angry red stripe over the whiteness of the thigh you give to me. I laugh as I see your body arch in the pain I give you, your thighs once more shooting together for a short moment but as quickly presented to me again. “I love you girl” I smile, my voice warmed by the genuineness of your giving your pain to me so readily, though I wonder why it does not sound shaky or out of breath from the emotion going through me. Rather it’s as calm as the hand I run along the inside of your thigh, caressing just where I hit you, just at what you gave me, your pain, your openness, your surrender and… yes it is quite clear from the sound of my slut as my hand moves closer to your core that you’ve been opening to your submissive heath as well. I smile, my cock stirring at the thought of all of the other things you seem to be getting ready to give me.
Are you out there, My beloved slut?
My half-amused smile seems to fit either possibility as I study those pleading eyes, the tip of my cane caressing the soft skin on the inside of your thigh, just where I stroke moments before and you’re almost certain I will strike again. I study my girl, my eyes gracing your features, as I try to determine whether you look forward to it with anticipation, fear… or perhaps the kind of love that shows itself in the will to suffer? Meanwhile I cast a glance to your cunt which lies wide open from your posture, the puffy silky lips exposed from my allowing no hair on this part of my property and swollen from my treatment.
I revel in feeling of my instrument as it sings, cutting a slice of air, the balance perfect in my hand, the length translating even the modest movement of my arm and wrist to a vicious effect at your end of the tool as I paint another angry red stripe over the whiteness of the thigh you give to me. I laugh as I see your body arch in the pain I give you, your thighs once more shooting together for a short moment but as quickly presented to me again. “I love you girl” I smile, my voice warmed by the genuineness of your giving your pain to me so readily, though I wonder why it does not sound shaky or out of breath from the emotion going through me. Rather it’s as calm as the hand I run along the inside of your thigh, caressing just where I hit you, just at what you gave me, your pain, your openness, your surrender and… yes it is quite clear from the sound of my slut as my hand moves closer to your core that you’ve been opening to your submissive heath as well. I smile, my cock stirring at the thought of all of the other things you seem to be getting ready to give me.
Are you out there, My beloved slut?