The aroma of perfume suddenly reached my nostrils. Finally it is everyone as human woman who decides to have fun with our lovely bitch. After all, I am a masochist who thrives on such abuse. Obeying the command, my eyes fluttered open to see the face of my owner—my husband… Nathan. Perhaps it would serve that function for a few horny Doms.
I was abused, but loved, delivered into subspace by a dozen hands extended by whips and paddles to bite and smack and revel in the resulting pain… told not in the expression on my hooded face, but in my body that jerked like a frenetic puppet. My ankles ached so that I could hardly stand the position. Our bitch will be served with all these big dicks just waiting to butcher him every orifice in public. I held in the feeling of pain, taking a long deep breath and focusing on what that pain contrived in my fondled crotch. My front and backsides were flogged in a simultaneous rhythm that had me jerking wildly and unable to follow the path of any strike to an erotic end. Some looked longingly; others trembled with fright, perhaps mentally putting themselves in my tall high heels. I felt strangely dehumanized. I smiled to myself. Every strike against my pubic mound worked its way in pain far beyond the point of impact. However, those who came to Haliday House parties liked being unusual, since that made their soirees jump with sexual magic. I began to sweat, my eyes fill with tears again. They looked a bit like vultures. Then, unhooking my garterbelt, the tiny garment drooped until I could push the stockings down my thighs and over my feet. Grabbing a leather hood from his own submissive, he covered my head, effectively walling me away from all the sights and sounds around me. Taking an ass cheek in each hand, I firmly grabbed the flesh and pulled the two apart. Normally, I knew when my Master was watching me. As I decided those precarious stairs, I could feel a firm hand on my ass, another with fingernails sinking into my shoulder. I wanted to wilt at his feet in service to him as his slave. The aroma of perfume suddenly reached my nostrils. With the air hitting the bare nubs, they stiffened further, like so many times, standing at attention, pink and proud, begging for a pair of lips to tease them. The house was freshly painted, the garden tended neatly—though it could use a little more imagination. Confusion filled my mind—who would bid and who would buy? I stepped from my heels. Its subject is firmly tied, fucked and severely punished with totally unknown people. A soothing bath of textures took what pained me grievously and transformed it into another experience of being loved. It was a gracious place, white framed and trimmed with green to match its fertile lawn.
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