Tag member submitted Erotica

virgin ass to her strap-on.

’ve had countless enemas since arriving here at the Compound, and yet every one was a little different. I knew the basic routine, and yet the variety of Nurse Katherine’s technique makes each one unique.

whap with the paddle on my burning butt. “Slap!” Another whap with the paddle on my burning butt. That makes eight. Only two more to go and then I could relax. I kept telling myself not to cry, not even to whimper. And I was concentrating all my energy into not moving a muscle.

I was standing there in Mistress Gwen’s private chamber, legs spread, bent over, with my hands touching my toes. She was standing behind me, correcting my pose in minute ways. Obeying her, I arched my back and pushed my ass higher. But she grabbed my hips, angling them up even more. Silent encouragement spurred me on

I am Princesca and it is my pleasure to demonstrate for you my newest invention. I call it the ‘Displayer’ and it has many uses. It positions the slave, quite comfortably, in such a manner that his cock, balls, and ass —— or for the female slave, her clit, vagina and ass —— are offered for discipline. Positioned this way, the slave is made available for anything.

When I first came here, I was just one of the many slaves here. Or so I thought. I didn’t realize then that Mistress Princesca had special plans for me.

I was the lead pony boy in the Compound’s stables.

The journey to his beautiful Tormentress. I am writing this in a nice little café. The sun is warm upon my shoulders and the scent of fresh coffee assails my nostrils as I wait. A text arrives and grinning my thumbs fly across the pad in reply. Just thirty minutes before she arrives, hardly anytime really, not nearly enough to tell you about her, and most certainly not enough to tell you about us.

A Domme is kept waiting. Knackered he climbed from the car, stretching his back as he walked towards the house, music was blaring upstairs and he smiled, She was happy, listening to the words he hummed them as he pushed the key into the lock “these boot are made for walk…..”.

under her feet he found freedom. he’d been laying there awhile, on his back, Her feet upon his face, heels a gentle pressure over his eyes Her toes pointing downwards, gently resting on his chin. Every now and then when She giggled at the programme She watched She would bring them together, squeezing his nose and cutting off his air, and during the adverts he could tell She was bored