Crack!
The first impact strikes her bare buttocks. Cecile yelps and jerks forward across the tall, padded stool she's currently bent over. A precarious position, head down, wrists secured with a soft cord to a low crossbar. Cecile's legs are spread to maintain balance, the toes of her high heels only just touching the floor. A full-skirted evening dress is bunched around her trim waist, leaving the auburn-haired woman's naked buttocks exposed and vulnerable.
The tails of the martinet hit the crease between Cecile's bottom cheeks and her hips convulse at the smart, giving an enticing glimpse of two ring-pieced labia. Despite, perhaps because of her predicament, Cecile looks beautiful, a vision of submissive womanhood.
This current ordeal/entertainment - depending on one's perspective - takes place within luxurious environs. One cannot simply apply to join
Le Castille
, an exclusive Parisian club for those who enjoy decidedly
recherche
sexual dalliances. Membership is by invitation only, following a covert vetting by like-minded people already on the exclusive list. At risqué gatherings such as these, it is customary for Cecile and her fellow submissives to reach into an inverted top hat and randomly choose a small envelope containing a number and brief instructions. Thus, the game begins...
Entering room six, head down, hands meekly clasped in front she stands next to the stool and closes her eyes; schooled in the ritual, instinctively knowing what to do. Minutes pass, and time seems to slow during these erotic encounters. Cecile nervously fidgets from foot to foot, silently willing proceedings to begin. The only furnishings in the windowless chamber are two wall-mounted mirrors on opposite sides and a wooden chest containing instruments of correction.
The door opens and sensing a presence behind her, Cecile is unsurprised to be blindfolded with a long silk scarf and pushed firmly forward across the stool. Next, her panties are pulled down with tantalising slowness to reveal a perfect peach of an arse, a bottom made to worship, punish, or both. The choice isn't hers to make, instead, the mystery person spends several minutes manoeuvring Cecile into the desired stance. Which of her orifices might they use when discipline is deemed complete, Cecile wonders?
Cecile's spanker is a woman of a certain age, undeniably glamorous, familiar to those who move effortlessly within high society. Madame has chic, elfin-cropped silver hair and bounteous breasts; also wearing a formal evening gown she's relishing every moment of Cecile's chastisement. The unknown implement currently scourging the younger woman's posterior is a martinet, adroitly wielded by an experienced hand; the tails falling accurately upon Cecile's increasingly crimson-streaked bottom.
A martinet, you enquire. Archetypally French, it's a multi-tail whip with a short wooden handle and 12 leather thongs, each around 30 cm long - something of a connoisseur's choice.
The tails strike her sensitive thighs, eliciting a cry from Cecile, stoking an inner fire, and making her visibly wet. She dare not close her legs for fear of falling, tied hands unable to shield her bottom.
Her punisher approaches closer, leaning forward to slip their hands under her décolletage and pinch Cecile's engorged nipples. Generous breasts press against her back, an audible rustle as clothing is adjusted followed by the feel of nylon-clad legs between Cecile's bare thighs. Something stiff yet flexible nudges her labia; a strap-on perhaps - is she to be fucked by a woman?
"Merde,"
an exclamation of momentary frustration from behind her as Cecile's punisher struggles to find the optimum angle, then a sigh of satisfaction when she succeeds. Slender hands hold Cecile's hips, pulling the bound woman backwards onto the artificial phallus insistently pushing into her slickly accommodating pussy Whereas a man might now lustily plunder her depths this woman fucks her subtly, takes Cecile to the brink, then pauses, prolonging the exquisite sensations. Both are panting, the artificial phallus sinks deeper, assuming a greater urgency.
Cecile has been fucked with a dildo before, fucked herself for that matter. Something about the sensual weight of this woman's body, the scent of her
parfum
, and barely suppressed gasps of pleasure all combine to make this instance exquisite. Cecile is clearly in capable hands, someone who understands the rewards of sensual intercourse - whether giving or receiving. Finally, the mix of sensations overwhelms her senses, mouth open, eyes closed, Cecile moans as a climactic shudder rocks her world, ecstatically surrendering to a vocal orgasm and momentarily feeling guilty that her mystery spanker has not experienced similar joy.
Expecting to be freed, Cecile hears the stranger walk to the door and admit a second person. A brief murmured greeting, heavier footsteps approach and the whipping resumes. striking already sore skin and eliciting outraged complaints. Thankfully for her burning bottom, it doesn't last long. Unexpectedly, the newcomer, Cecile senses them to be male, tweaks the little jewelled butt plug peaking enticingly from between her hot and stinging moons.
Apologies, was this not previously mentioned?
Quel dommage.
The smooth steel plug is the ultimate symbol of Cecile's compliant subjugation. When getting ready for this erotic assignation she'd deliberately decide to insert one. Carefully Cecille spread lube onto the narrower end with a manicured finger, crouched on the bed, reached back and, feeling wanton, pulled her arse cheeks wide apart. Delicately applied a little more KY to her rosebud, and insistently slid the plug inside her tight bottom hole. Wincing at the initial discomfort, then sighing with pleasure as the cool sculpted shape prepared her for something larger....
That moment has arrived.
Monsieur
, for it is indeed a man - tall, distinguished and, like all males present, wearing a DJ - carefully pulls the plug from Cecile's arse leaving it gaping in lewd invitation. Cautiously he eases his cock into the void; first engaging just the head he teases her rosebud, letting Cecile adjust to its presence before penetrating further.
"Oh my! So big," she whimpers.
Meanwhile, the mystery female has changed ends, crouching before Cecile to free her bound wrists. They embrace, exchanging long, lingering kisses that stifle Cecile's impassioned moans as her most intimate opening is expertly shafted. The woman caresses Cecile's hair, body, and breasts, murmuring reassurances, holding her in place as the man's ardour builds and he thrusts determinedly, the full width of his girth stretching her back passage.
"
Oh, mon dieu
," Cecile moans, "please don't stop!"
Holding her hips, the mystery gentleman expertly reams her arse. Lost to arousal they reach a mutual crescendo, Cecile's whole body convulses, he spurts, she squirts, and the walls echo to cries of pleasure and sexual release. In the confusion of limbs, the blindfold momentarily shifts allowing a fleeting glimpse of her Sapphic lover. In a flash the covering is replaced, clothes are hastily adjusted, footsteps recede, and the door closes. As wetness seeps down her thighs Cecile is left satiated and alone.
