I step back and leave her there and watch her struggle to resist the natural temptation to cover herself up. There is an immediate flinch of her fingers but she controls herself and allows me to view the twin delights of her jutting mounds and the delicate whorled pink peaks that crown them. I envisage hours of delight playing with those, teasing and stroking, licking and nibbling before and after the pegs and the clamps have been applied and I wonder if those thoughts flicker through her mind as the tiny draughts in the room tickle her nipples into life. I can see her tremble now, a visible little shiver that runs from her head down to her thighs and it delights me the way in which her breasts move so slightly and yet so obviously and I muse on the little teasing caresses that my light whip will make there and the livid red weals that will mark her creaminess for days to follow.
Such delightful thoughts keep me amused as I notice her trembling increase when I step back towards her and I know she can sense my presence there or see the faint outline of my shadowy darkness covering hers. I unzip her skirt and then once more instruct her to unfasten the button, giving her the final say in denuding herself of the garment and I am pleased as she obeys without any hesitation and the skirt drops to lie like a pool of black ink around her feet. I am less happy with the tights that are revealed and the way in which they are drawn up over her red panties to hide much of her luscious bottom flesh from my view. I make a mental note to punish her severely for wearing them and then I slip my fingers inside and roll them down to her knees. Now I have a view that is only obstructed by the thin silken panties which barely cover half of each cheek and I stroke my fingers slowly across the white skin and savour the warmth and the velvety texture. I feel her breath hiss into her mouth as I cup one cheek with my palm and squeeze and mould the globe before I release it once more. I take out a sharp pair of scissors and she flinches as the cold tip touches her skin and then I snip down the side of the panties on both thighs and they fall away, ruined now and I wonder how she feels as they flutter down to the carpet, knowing that she will never wear them again and that now her body is completely bare to me from the knees up.
I step in front of her for the first time and take in the wide-eyed deep emerald gaze that looks at me for an instant before she drops her eyes to the floor, bowing her head ever so slightly. Her full breasts lure my own eyes and I cannot resist the temptation of touching the tips, feeling her soft nipples start to swell as I brush my fingers across them. Her pubic hair is trimmed neatly and hardly obscures the cute, whorled lips of her labia which peep out shyly from between her thighs as I sink down and snip her tights away until she stands there in only her sandals, high heels elevating her calves and tightening her bottom cheeks. Exercise time, I decide, and I make her walk round the room, circling me as I stand there observing the way in which her flesh shimmies and shakes, breasts wobbling and buttocks swaying while her hands stay resolutely on her head even when I make her run by flicking at her rump with a little quirt. I allow her to slow to a halt, perspiration just beginning to break out at her hairline and I step up close and smell her, feeling her scent seep into me and excite me.
I tell her calmly that I am now going to punish her for wearing tights and her luminous green eyes fasten on mine for a second then slide away and I can almost see a glimmer of satisfaction lurking there and I smile to myself as I wonder if she had been disobedient on purpose. I decide to treat her to a few harder strokes just in case as I order her to bend over and grasp her ankles with her hands. I love the way the position exposes her soft-lipped cunt and then the tight dark star of her anus winks at me lewdly while I can see her breasts between her widely parted thighs. I rest my hand on her left cheek and feel it vibrate ever so slightly almost in anticipation of what is to follow and I draw the moment out cruelly before I bring it up and then back down and the noise echoes crisply around the room while a red rose blossoms on her whiteness. I spend a minute or so on her left globe until it is a dull red colour from outside to in and from top to bottom and then when she expects me to begin on the other buttock, I start on her white tender thighs and I obtain the first little gasp of discomfort as the surprise stings into her skin. Soon the flesh is deep red verging on scarlet and her moans are rising, filling the air with such sweet sounds of distress and therefore pleasing me inordinately. I start on her inner thighs and bring my palm up close to the sensitive lips of her quim and watch the flesh ripple under the impact before I finally spank the right cheek of her arse red and raw, finishing with some hard stinging smacks that make her hands clench round her ankles tightly and her throat rasp with painful grunts and groans.
I allow her to straighten up and I observe the stiffness in her muscles as she moves slowly and painfully back to an upright position and then I fetch a stool for her and tell her to sit. She places her stinging cheeks carefully on the hard wooden seat and keeps her thighs primly together as I take her hands and tie them behind her then bind her ankles to the stool. Her green eyes widen in fear as I unearth a flexible strip of rattan, yellowed with age, and I whisk it through the air, listening to the beauty of the noise it makes. Does she consider the whistling displacement of the air a song of loveliness as she flinches on her stool, tied and waiting, helpless and bound? The thought teases my mind as I place the cane against the side of her thigh and slip a blindfold down over her, making her emit a little mew of protest and fear as her sight is removed. I pick the cane back up and rest it across her thighs, feeling the muscles press against the hard wood, flexed and tense, ready for the first stroke to cut into them. However I use the rattan ever so lightly on her breasts instead, tapping it quickly against her generous swelling flesh as she hisses out little gasps of pain and shock through her parted lips as the skin starts to redden. Quick flicks of my wrist keep the cane stinging against her tender breasts, striping her scarlet and crushing the delicate buds painfully into her chest while the tears start to stream down her cheeks from underneath the blindfold.
One hard stroke swipes down and lands across her thighs as I see that they have relaxed and she squeals as a vivid crimson line blossoms on her whiteness there before I return to her exposed breasts. I alternate the strokes at irregular interval, always trying to catch her by surprise as I lay the length of the rattan across her twitching thighs so that her shrieks and squeals please my ear as they echo round the room. I make a mental note to ask her afterwards which is more painful. Is it the cutting bite of the cane into her white thighs or the stinging repetitive zip of the wooden rod on her full breasts? Twelve livid red lines of fire emblazon her legs when I finally finish and I remove the blindfold so that I can stare deep into her pain-clouded, stormy sea-green eyes and drink in the delight that it gives me to know she is offering herself body and soul.
