the boring life of me

delectabledeviants:

Naughty girl, take your skirt and knickers down. Spread your thighs. Assume the position. Don’t you dare let them fall.

I’m controlling my anger. Simmering it into words that belay my true rage. I should give you the back of my hand. Over and over. Yet tonight, I give you the cane.

The game of stinging against your backside. The curved ‘thwipe’ through the end. Then the shattering strike. As line after line turns from pink, to rouge, to purple .. aligns and bleeds into the next. I almost forget your screaming. Almost.

I stop for a moment and move around behind you, noticing you catching your breath, your sobs. Drawing lines with the tip of the cane down your back, down your shoulders, your thighs. Watching you shiver with pleasure. Marking your legs as I have your bottom. 

Then sliding the cane between your legs, smooth movements as the cold wood moves and rolls past and over your clit. All the wall. Then back down again. Watching you glisten and sigh. Then striking your backside anew. now you’ve had time to relax. Your bruises time to deepen.

Repeat. Repeat. Pleasure. Pain. Over and over. Keep your knickers and skirt held over your calves. Don’t let them fall. Don’t you dare.

Kneeling behind you and plunging my tongue into your cunt, licking at your clips, your juices, pushing my tongue inside and turning it over and over.

As you sigh, scratching my nails over your wounds, raking them over your bottom, over the strikes on your thighs, my tongue still lick, lick, teasing at you.

Push your face further down onto the chair, Miss. Pinch your nipples hard. If you want Sir to keep on licking. If your fear his nails. If you’re close to cumming.

But don’t you dare let your knickers and skirt fall. Don’t you dare.

And Sir will score into your bruises and he will lick deep into your sex. I might permit a finger between your legs. When you’re begging and desperate.

And as you start to cum, I will stand behind you, the cane will fly back .. and with every cry of pleasure I will strike you with swathes of pain. 

Over and over and over.

But don’t you let your skirt and knickers fall from where they rest over your calves, Miss.

Don’t you dare.

(via cindersk)