She flinched as the key turned in the lock, even though he was expected, knowing he was but a few paces away at the door letting himself into her flat...her world...her life... Produced butterflies in the pit of stomach the intensity of which made them feel more like elephants. He pulled her up from her chair and kissed her passionately yet dismissively. Shoved his hand between her thighs, felt her wetness, her excitement. With a very self assured sneer on his face he pushed her to her knees and gave her his cock. He held her head steady in his hands enabling him to fuck her face with the same self serving gusto as when he fucked her cunt, but for now that would have to wait. She only ever got his cock where he wanted when he wanted. As quickly as he dumped a hot load of cum down her throat, he turned and walked toward the bedroom.
She followed him . Sat on the foot of the bed. Waited. Wondered. He instructed her to kneel. To get down on all fours on the floor. Naked and vulnerable. Wanton as she waited . He struck her left hip, the 'whoosh' of which told her it was his newest cane. Then her right hip received several strikes. Her ass wasn't neglected, nor her cunt - he even managed to strike her clitoris - but with more of a thud . He had obviously swapped from the thin wispy cane to the thicker hardier one. Her gasps and jolts - as she tried to avoid each strike- if only for the moment, served to make further strikes more earnest more severe more direct - More incredible.
With the use of both the hardier thicker cane , the thin wispier cane as well as the crop he continued to inflict strike upon stroke to her hips, her thighs, her cunt and her now increasingly tender and swollen clitoris. Each implement of pain having its own unique purpose and creating a significantly different reaction from her, depending upon where he decided to strike her and how hard he decided to strike her...Decisions of which were his and his alone, for which he was rewarded with; her reactions, her moans, her grimaces.
