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Sting In The Tail

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The black leather-clad beauty has me at her mercy. Naked, spread-eagled and bound by wrists and ankles to a tall open frame I hear her moving about behind me. The anticipation is excruciating as I wait to discover my fate in a semi-aroused state thanks to the pumping adrenalin. The sound of her stiletto heeled footsteps stops; she is ready.


Long, agonising moments pass, each second feeling like a minute. Suddenly the sound of a slap fills the air and I feel a stinging sensation diagonally across my back from right shoulder blade to left hip. I flinch more from surprise than anything else, where was the pain? The only sensation I had was a slight smarting which already was rapidly fading.


A second stroke followed from left shoulder blade to right hip. I flinched again but not as much this time because only the timing was a surprise. Other strokes followed across my back, across my buttocks and the backs of my thighs. I was relaxing more with each stroke; I could take this treatment all night - easy.


With a clearly audible hiss the next stroke curled around my right side with an incredibly loud clap. My side erupted in pain, arms involuntarily jerking against the wrist restraints that held me fast. Looking down I could see a red line around my waist on the right hand side, small red beads were oozing out and starting to course down towards my hips.


The silence was deafening for a few interminable seconds, then the sound of her footsteps began again. I could hear her moving around me on my right, slowly inspecting her handywork she stepped around until she stood in front of me, eyes blazing and a cruel smile on her lips. In her left hand she held a whip which looked from my viewpoint to have a lash made of some sort of cloth. In her right hand a second whip which looked like a leather bullwhip but shorter with tiny dots shimmering in the light along the length of the lash. It took a few seconds to register what I was looking at - tiny glass slivers bonded to the lash reflecting the light.


Without a word she started walking again until she stood once more behind me. Now as each stroke fell I didn't know what to expect - the soft kiss of the cloth lash or the bloodletting sting of the bullwhip. She varied the timing of each stroke, some following almost immediately after their predecessor, some up to a minute or more after and at totally random intervals she used the bullwhip causing another red line and associated tiny red rivulets. The anticipation of each stroke was an agony of uncertainty.


When my back, buttocks, thighs and calves were nicely decorated and many tiny streams were flowing down my body she finally stopped. Once more I could hear her moving about behind me accompanied by occasional very feint sounds that I couldn't identify. Then I heard what sounded like footsteps but without the harsh click of her heels - had someone joined us so she could display her handywork?


A loud click then a whirring sound - I was moving, tilting slowly backwards as the frame was lowered to the floor by an overhead pulley and chain. As my back came to rest on the floor it was everything I could do to stifle a scream - she had arranged a mat behind me on which she had sprinkled a generous layer of salt. As I writhed against the searing heat on my back she moved to my side - now completely naked.


She went down on my penis and soon had it erect and ready, climbing on top of me she rode me hard, fast and mercilessly as I struggled against my salt bed.

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