#144) Paint It Black – GRAPHIC CONTENT

Whenever I get in one of my black moods, there is only one way to pull me out of it, to brighten the skies again. My lover knows this, knows what I need.
On Friday evening, there is a large gift box on my side of the bed. I open it to find a lovely bustier inside. It is heavy black brocade, accentuated with black leather buckles, with lots of stays built into it. It makes me wet when I lift it out of the box and hold it to my body.
“I thought you needed this,” Alex says.
“Thank you, Sir!”
“You’ll wear it tomorrow. Nothing else. When I’m ready to punish you, I’ll cuff you and take you outside.”
“Yes, Sir.” And I know that the storm clouds will be dispersed by bedtime tomorrow.
After breakfast and my toilette on Saturday, I put on the bustier as instructed, no jewelry save for the one ring I always wear, no shoes, no panties.
“You look lovely, my love,” Alex says with sincerity.
“Thank you, Sir! The bustier is exquisite, I love it!”
“Put your wrists out, Jeanie.”
I obey, and feel the thick leather cuffs buckled around each one, and so have confirmed that I am to be restrained in some way. Which probably means that I’ll be punished hard today. Good, I smile to myself; I need it.
Alex leads me out into the large backyard by the hand. I feel the cloud-shrouded sun on my skin. A breeze tells me that my pits are sweating and that my pussy is wet. Anticipation fills my tummy with butterflies.
He hands me his opened pocket knife. “Cut yourself three willow stitches, Jeanie. Each one should be as thick as your little finger”
As I approach the tree, I see a chain with clasps on each end laying across a fork in the branches. That’s where I’ll fastened and presented for punishment, I tell myself.
I do as I’m told, then follow his instructions to strip each supple branch of its leaves and braid the three together. It makes a pliant but sturdy whip. The breeze tells me that my anticipation is increasing. You’ve been a perfect bitch, I tell myself. You deserve this. Today is your day to get it. You need it.
“Kneel on the ground, Jeanie.”
I feel the dried autumnal leaves softly crinkle beneath my shins and feet. I see a black satin mask lowered across my field of vision and tied in place. The loss of my sense of sight makes me more aware of the others. My breathing is shallow. My sex reeks of excitement and I also smell the honeysuckle bush. My hard nipples strain against the brocade. I hear the crunch of leaves under Alex’s shoes long before he lifts me by the arm and takes me straight ahead. Each wrist is fastened in turn to the chain, so that I must stand on tip-toes.
I dangle there like some ripe fruit, then hear Alex in my ear whispering.
“I intend to whip your backside, but if you turn, I will whip the front of your thighs, even your pussy. So try to hold still. Don’t let the whiplash spin you about…”
“Yes, Sir. How many am I to get?”
“As many as it takes to punish you thoroughly and break your foul mood,” he answers.
I hear the switch cut through the air, I feel it cut into my tender tush flesh. Just the first lashes hurt badly enough to make me yelp and whimper. Soon the pain accumulates, and I’m screaming. I know that the stone privacy wall is thick and high, but I know that it won’t contain my outcries. I can’t hold them in, however. Alex whips me mercilessly. I need it.
I thought I’d give my poor bottom a reprieve, so turn one hundred and eighty degrees. I immediately regret it as I feel stripes cut into my upper thighs and across my engorged sex. My muff doesn’t protect the skin. I try to turn back again, but do not have enough grip on the ground, suspended as I am. I start to spin, feeling the lash across my bottom, then pussy, then bottom… I hang my head, my chin resting on my tear and sweat-slick collarbone. I repeat my mantra over and over again, “I need this.”
All is silent, I don’t hear the whip whistling through the air any longer. I thank God, try to quell my sobbing.
I feel Alex’s hands on my hips, he is turning me, arching my ass out. I feel his cock graze across my pussy lips, and again, before he pushes his length into me.
“Oh, Fuck!” escapes my mouth.
“That’s right, my little bitch, I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Try not to cum.”
He hammers into me. Alex undoes the top clasp of my bustier so as to be able to pull my tits out and manhandle them. The power of suggestion is too much, as soon as I hear his taunt, I start to climax. He rogers me through a screamer of an orgasm. But then freezes.
“One vaginal climax is all you get. I’m going to finish here…” And I feel him withdraw from my pussy. I feel such remorse to have him vacate me, then feel his cock head touch my rear dimple. With only the jism I coated his cock with, he pushes his way up my tight tooter. I grit my teeth, feel his invasion millimeter by incredible millimeter. It borders on painful, is fully realized ecstasy. I feel possessed and defiled, beaten to submission, totally his. He squeezes my boobies, pushes up me all the way, balls deep. His flat, muscled stomach presses hard against the soft curves of my ass crack.
“I. Need. This,” I grimace and start to assgasm. Even through the tight-fitting blindfold, I sense the sun coming out.

6 responses to “#144) Paint It Black – GRAPHIC CONTENT”

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