Saturday noon

Massage done, I pulled the cover on his body, and careful of not waking him up, I went to fix lunch.

My nipples pulsated with each breath and it was hard to focus on anything but them. They felt hundred times bigger and the bra felt hundred time rougher on them. Trying not to winch at each movement I moved around the kitchen, busying myself with the preparation. From the grocery in the bag, the menu was going to be: couscous with grilled vegetables (bell peppers, zucchini, eggplants and eringi mushrooms), washed down with some nice white wine.

Lunch ready, it was time to wake Sir up.

Slowly I walked over to the side of the bed, and kneeling on the floor I whispered: "Sir? ... lunch is ready ..."
With a stir, he opened his eyes and smelling the food:
"Good girl. Let's eat.
How's your nipple feeling?"
"Sore, Sir. And heavy."
"Good. Show them to me"
Bra slowly removed, the lack of support sent a new jolt of pain through my nipples.
"You are lucky I should not touch them. The rings look so inviting I'm tempted to pull them ..." and with a chuckle caused by my fearful expression, he got up and got dressed to sit down for lunch.

Food eaten, table cleaned and dishes washed, I'm ordered against the door. My wrists tied together and the rope that bind them hang on the hook, I was now standing on my toes facing the door, trying to keep from pressing my breasts against the hard wood.

Noticing my action
"Don't worry. As soon as I start, it will make no difference."
And with that the first stroke of the his belt hits across my ass.
"I thought to give you a break from the crop. You should be thanking me ..."

"Thank you Sir!"
"Good. Now start counting." And with that the strokes are back. Some are quick, some are slow, some are heavy and some are light and some other are blinding. I'm dancing on my toes, twisting, screaming, counting.
"Fifty!"

His focus moved from my ass and upper legs to my back and shoulders and it was now impossible to avoid hitting the hard wood with my freshly pierced breasts: shrieking from the strokes only cause me to press against the door, while standing apart only made me slam into it with each stroke.
"One Hundred!"

I was panting and all my back felt on fire.
The new welts on top of the bruises from the previous night were just taking all my energy away. My legs like jello were shacking and with the face pressed against the door, I was just letting the hang hands carry my weight. 

"Now this is the proper way to end a meal." 
Unhooking my hands and gently holding me up, he helped me to the bed.
"I need to take care of some business this afternoon. Take a nap, clean yourself up and be ready to go to dinner by 6." walking toward the door.
"I'm pleased with you so far. Rest well. We are not done." And with that, the door closed behind him.

Authors: Musing of X

Ver fuente original del articulo