Oh Natalie! The young flagellant led me to you. I adored her touching, naive, trusting ass. Many ladies love spanking, but this one was especially voluptuous. She drove me crazy with her helplessness. Her passion was discovered by accident.
The girl became capricious: she wanted to go for a walk and did not let me work. Be smart, I kept saying, not looking up from the computer, go alone. I don’t want to be smart, the little girl was mischievous, I’m tired of being smart! And she pressed any letters on the cybord. Don't mess around, I said patiently, with all the severity I could muster. And what will happen? she asked, continuing to play pranks.
I will punish him, I said, although I could not even imagine that in a minute I would indeed be able to confirm the threat. Tiny was quite sure that this would not happen. You? me? she laughed carelessly. Never punish! And pressing DELETE erased a large piece of text. Nothing terrible happened, the text remained in the buffer, but I was really indignant. Ah well! - and, turning around on a swivel chair, slapped the impudent girl on the ass, covered with thin silk pajamas. Guard! Kill! - she squeaked, but instead of running away, she stuck out her perky ass and, wagging it desperately, closed her eyes. The picture was so touching that I burst out laughing, pulled down the elastic of my pants and slapped some more. In response, my girl let out a moan of voluptuousness: Thus began our true love story.
Fragile and touching, in the moment of ecstasy she turned into a wild, but frightened animal. I liked this fear, even if it was feigned. I tamed her. I enjoyed my power over my beloved...
Now I know for sure ... there is no woman who would not dream of a spanking, and only false shame prevents her from stepping over the barrier. But that's what a real man is for, in order to feel in time what his beloved wants. After all, stepping over the barrier of shame is so sweet.
Most often, the moment of truth comes during an act of love. When a lady is on all fours in front of you, in a vicious, but at the same time bashful and defenseless pose, and you drive your ramrod into her with the speed and power of a jackhammer, there is nothing more natural than to slap her bare buttocks, and more, and more, while does not turn red, and now switch the speed to maximum speed, put it on your skewer with all your might and with all the passion that you can. Ignore her cry, her shock, a little more - and she will scream with delight, because the moment of unearthly bliss is approaching ...
Everything comes to an end. At what point did it break? Proust writes that he mistook the reflected wave of his own passion for Genevieve's love. So maybe it was my passion that dried up, and I, not feeling the reciprocal wave, became more and more indifferent and in the end received my own hatred in response? One way or another, from an erotic game that precedes the journey to the heavenly palaces of pleasure, spanking has become the only content of our life, the only thing that connected us.
Now I no longer just called her, but also considered her rubbish and felt a constant need to humiliate her. My soul has turned into a desert. She bored me, the sharpness of sensations dulled. I got bored of torturing her. I had a new lover, and it occurred to me that with this submissive, unrequited creature that my once cocky and capricious baby had turned into, I was still capable of experiencing the last surge of passion. I decided that now my new passion, a domineering, vulgar and stubborn girl, should flog my beloved girl. With what lust Sacher-Masoch describes such a scene, and yet he looks at it with the eyes of a victim! All I wanted was to once again awaken in the soul of my beloved those strings that I once carelessly touched.
She couldn't... She, this typical dominant mistress, ready for any excesses, if only it gave pleasure to her and me, when she saw a hunted animal in front of her, she threw away her whip and hissed a vile curse through her teeth - oh no, not in my address - she was angry at her own mercy for depriving her of her entertainment. I ended up throwing both of them out, after which I fell into a deep depression.
Now I myself, like she once, wanted to press DELETE.
The days dragged on in an endless dull sequence, I began to travel a lot, flying from country to country, the constant change of time zones led me to a semi-delusional state, and supermarkets are the same all over the world. I can't say that beauty didn't touch me at all. In Greece, on Cape Sounion, where the ruins of the temple of Poseidon, familiar from history books, stand, and Byron left an autograph on one of the columns, I experienced an irresistible desire to end all problems at once and, if my baby was with me, no doubt, I would have carried her into the abyss . Be that as it may, I came to life and now knew exactly what I needed.
After two days in Brussels, I went to the red quarter. I decided to implement my plan in Brussels, because there the quarter is located in the outskirts of the city, behind the station, and prostitutes sitting in the windows in grenadier underwear and immense articles look at the lustful passers-by men with complete indifference.
I went to a sadomasochistic club. The Mistress I chose was awe-inspiring by her size alone. I'm not talking about the outfit - it was a hybrid of an SS uniform and a medieval shell. Left alone with me, she looked at me with an inquisitive look and asked... "Well, baby, where do we start?"
I had to choose the instrument of torture myself. Having surveyed the entire arsenal, I picked up a whip. "Oh baby," she said. How did you guess? It's my favorite..."
Until now, it seemed to me that she was completely indifferent both to me and to the upcoming execution. But at that moment it dawned on me - she said so and looked at the whip with such an enlightened look ... I did not stop looking at her mighty ass, protruding from the latex of my underpants, and thought that I had a difficult, but intoxicating mission .. I did my best, but I came out as devastated as ever. My plan failed.
Oh Natalie! How different you are from professional sadists, you, so fragile with a capricious mouth and a naive, shameless look! You reminded me of my girl, my treasure - are you really capable of what I'm dreaming about? Oh yes, I see your little nostrils flaring in anger... at last! O my vicious angel! Only now I understand the marvelous meaning of the phrase "So stick, my angel of yesterday, in the heart of a sharp French heel!" So get in!