Merelan
Lady's Love
- Joined
- Mar 29, 2000
- Posts
- 10,812
Helpless, I watched him beat her. And though I knew she liked this, I could not help but cry. For it looked so painful. Her body turned from pink to red under his repeated blows, and I knew, in that instant I was not happy.
This frightened me too much. I knew, though I had enjoyed the spankings, the caning, the pinching, I would not enjoy that. How could they expect me too? I had never liked pain, and this was too much.
I tried to look away. But at every strike, my eyes were forced to her body, writhing and moaning in reaction. Swinging free when he hit harder then expected.
I longed to take her in my arms and hold her, at least to help her stand, to help her cum.
My sweet Goddess, yes. In my deepest secret heart, that is what I longed for. I knew this was her pleasure, her pain, their mutual delight, and if so, then I wanted to help her enjoy it more. To pleasure her as he wielded his paddle.
Endless hours, minutes, days later, he stopped. And in stroking her body, her poor beaten body, he aroused even more passion then the strikes.
His hands wandered where they willed, where he willed, for this was his show. He owned us. And proved it with every movement. Slipping his hands between her legs, he wet his fingers, over and over he showed her how hot she was, what a slut for this.
Unexpectedly, as I had thought, and half hoped they had forgotten me, he came to me. I cringed away, frightened and the lust in his eyes. Yet he only reached out his fingers to me, and let me smell, and yes, suck them. Her scent, her flavor. Incredibly I began licking and sucking, wanting more. Wanting him to be so pleased with my whorishness that he would forego my punishment.
Knowing not to speak, I begged him with my eyes. Imploring him to let me simply serve him, and not to subject me to the beating he had given her.
I stood there, at his utter mercy, trusting him to know, that though I wanted him to be my Master, this was new to me. And I was like a frightened child.
This frightened me too much. I knew, though I had enjoyed the spankings, the caning, the pinching, I would not enjoy that. How could they expect me too? I had never liked pain, and this was too much.
I tried to look away. But at every strike, my eyes were forced to her body, writhing and moaning in reaction. Swinging free when he hit harder then expected.
I longed to take her in my arms and hold her, at least to help her stand, to help her cum.
My sweet Goddess, yes. In my deepest secret heart, that is what I longed for. I knew this was her pleasure, her pain, their mutual delight, and if so, then I wanted to help her enjoy it more. To pleasure her as he wielded his paddle.
Endless hours, minutes, days later, he stopped. And in stroking her body, her poor beaten body, he aroused even more passion then the strikes.
His hands wandered where they willed, where he willed, for this was his show. He owned us. And proved it with every movement. Slipping his hands between her legs, he wet his fingers, over and over he showed her how hot she was, what a slut for this.
Unexpectedly, as I had thought, and half hoped they had forgotten me, he came to me. I cringed away, frightened and the lust in his eyes. Yet he only reached out his fingers to me, and let me smell, and yes, suck them. Her scent, her flavor. Incredibly I began licking and sucking, wanting more. Wanting him to be so pleased with my whorishness that he would forego my punishment.
Knowing not to speak, I begged him with my eyes. Imploring him to let me simply serve him, and not to subject me to the beating he had given her.
I stood there, at his utter mercy, trusting him to know, that though I wanted him to be my Master, this was new to me. And I was like a frightened child.