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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
When I stepped out of the shower after a good half hour with my skin all wrinkly, I still had the smell of pee linger in my nose, but I was quite sure that it was only in my head by now. Anne was waiting for me, sitting on the toilet lid, one of my socks dangling from her fingers. I saw her wince the moment she spotted my body and couldn’t keep myself from feeling a twinge of satisfaction. I even turned around and closed the shower stall to give her a good view of my equally decorated derriere. “Oh shit, Bunnie.” “What?” I wanted to make her feel bad, but the anguish in her face toppled my tower of resentment. “It looks worse than it is.” I picked up a towel, dried my hair and dabbed at the few not-hurting patches of skin. “Don’t play me for an idiot,” she hissed back, “I’ve seen enough welts in the last two years to know what hurts and what doesn’t. This is going to hurt like hell, and you’ll have a hard time sleeping for the next few days.” There was no arguing that, so I simply shrugged. “Whatever. It won’t last forever.” “Who did this?” Her voice was quieter now. I stepped closer to her and put my hand on my hip. “And why would you want to know?” “Because I…” She paused. I wanted to be able to see into her mind at this moment, to know what she was thinking. To know the truth. “Because I’m your friend.” The dejection that slapped me over the face couldn’t be hidden, my whole posture slumped. “Friends talk to each other.” I threw the towel I was still holding into the corner and left, wanting nothing more that to curl into a ball and wail my misery to the world. I did curl up on my bed. Lying on the side was the only position where I wasn’t painfully reminded of this night’s activities anyway. I just cried silently, though. Everything was quiet for a long time. Then I heard Anne walk across the room. When the entrance door clicked shut, I allowed my sobs some voice. I even managed to drift into an unruly slumber after a while, but I was startled out of it by the door. When my mattress sunk in right next to me, I made sure to breathe evenly and appear sleeping. Though when something cold touched my bum, I couldn’t suppress the gasp. “Shh,” Anne whispered, “it’s healing salve. You need that, or you’ll carry the lines for the next few weeks.” Her finger travelled across my bum cheeks and spread the cream. I whimpered. “I know it hurts, honey, but it’s either a bit of pain now or a constant sore for twice as many days as it will take with the salve.” She wordlessly continued to work the salve into my backside and thighs, and apart from small whimpers when she touched especially sore spots, I was quiet too. She was thorough and took her time so she didn’t miss a single sore patch of skin. Then she told me to turn around so she could do my frontside. I had to move around awkwardly on all fours to do so. She started with my stomach, and every touch made my muscles twitch. Thank god I wasn’t ticklish, or this would never have worked. While she put dollop after dollop of the salve onto my skin and spread it as carefully as she could, I watched her face. The concentration and sympathy I saw finally made my walls crumble. “Her name is Helen,” I told her, “but she wanted me to call her Auntie Helen. I bumped into her right after I had seen you. I wanted to get away, but instead I spilled her drink all over her dress.” I almanbahis told her the whole story of my night of torture, and Anne didn’t interrupt a single time, only gasping and wincing while she listened to my words. She never stopped applying lotion, and when she had worked her way up to my breasts, my story was broken by pained whimpers every so often. But, despite all her compassion, I could see her cheeks flush and her breath quicken when I described how Helen had spanked my pussy. Her flush intensified when I talked about my final degradation, how she had peed into my open mouth while I knelt in my own pee. Afterwards, we were both silent while Anne treated the inside of my thighs. The welts there were more sore than those before, and the closer she got to the top, the sharper even the smallest of touches felt. “I’m so sorry,” she finally said, but when I tried to say something, she held up her hand. “I’m sorry for not talking to you. I was stupid. I had been carrying that unresolved business with Bao around, and I was honest when I told you that I feared I was heaping too much onto you in such a short time. And I feared that I might be projecting my own submissive wishes into you. That’s why I visited Bao, just to talk and sort it all out. But she insisted that before talking, I would need to submit to her for twenty-four hours. That’s why you saw us at the club.” “Did you…” I couldn’t ask the question, but she read my intent anyway. “It was a bit of a thrill, but nothing earthshaking, and being spanked and touched was exciting, but nothing close to what I feel when I do it to you, or watch it done to you.” “So,” I couldn’t stop myself from needling, “this whole mess was about nothing?” She hung her head and looked away. “It was.” “Silly mistress,” I whispered. She nodded dejectedly, but suddenly her head swiveled around. “What did you call me?” “Silly mistress?” I repeated and bit my lower lip. “Insubordinate little slut,” she hissed, her eyes sparkling, “you’re aware what such a behaviour means, aren’t you?” “That I need to get punished?” I asked with an innocent smile, tongue in cheek. I could almost hear the wheels inside her head spin, and then she ever so slowly got up, put the salve onto my nightstand and started to pull her t-shirt over her head. “Lie on your back,” she bellowed while she stripped out of her clothes. Lying on my back hurt, but thankfully not in a way that drove tears into my eyes, it was more of a really, really, really uncomfortable feeling. When she stepped out of her panties, I could see that she carried a few welts of her own on her shapely backside; nothing compared to mine, but a clear indication that Bao had inflicted more than just a simple spanking on her. Once naked, she climbed onto the bed. “What…” I started, but she shushed me. “Spread your legs and bend your knees. A bit further. Good, keep them like this.” She slipped in between my legs, leaving no doubts about her intentions. When her tongue snaked out towards my swollen pussy, I held my breath. She licked all over my pussy lips, as tenderly as possible, but it still felt like being rubbed with sandpaper. I whimpered, but she ignored me, increasing her pace bit by bit. Yes, it hurt, but it also aroused me, the hot, wet feeling of need just seconds behind the small bursts of pain. She paused. “What if I wanted to almanbahis yeni giriş be rougher right now?” she inquired. I swallowed hard. My heart started to beat like a machine gun. What was it about letting myself be hurt that turned me on so much? “Then you should,” I croaked, “it’s not up to a slave to decide her mistress’ actions.” The bright smile she sent me sent a warm, fuzzy feeling directly into my heart. “However I want?” “However you want, Mistress.” I wondered what she had in mind. Until she had crawled around me on all fours, that is, and started to lower her body directly over mine, her pussy over my mouth. The moment when her weight settled on my breasts drew the air from my lungs, and when she parted my pussy lips with her fingers, my vision blurred. But it felt incredibly right, and the sweet scent of her sex in my nose helped me ignore my pains. I delved into her pussy like a drowning girl would grab onto a plank of wood, licking, sucking and whimpering and groaning when her tongue and fingers squeezed and pulled and sucked on my own swollen snatch. We came almost simultaneously, she with understated, trembling, whining waves, while I shouted my release in a big torrent of lust into her sex. Thank god she had the presence of mind to roll off me, or things would have quickly gone from pleasurable aftershocks to heavy pain. She snuggled up to my side and rested her head on my shoulder. “You know, when you told me about having your pussy whipped, you didn’t sound all that sorry.” I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. “I wasn’t. I’m still not.” “I would have loved to have seen that. But what about the peeing?” This was the one point that had torn my self-image into smithereens. Would Anne understand? It took more than a minute until I could find the courage to answer. “A part of me hated it. But the other part loved it. Do you – do you think I’m sick?” My fingers started to tremble when she didn’t reply immediately. “Oh Bunnie,” she sighed, “perhaps you are a little deviant in some way, but would that be a bad thing? You told me she invited you for a weekend. Would you go there again?” “I don’t think so. I’m still not sure I can trust her, and it would be too intense.” “But you thought about it already?” “No! Yes. How do you know?” “Would you do it if I wanted you to? If I’d be there to make sure you aren’t permanently harmed?” My pussy clenched. “Oh god.” “Is that a yes?” My skin prickled with the shameful blush that covered my whole body. “Yes, Mistress.” “Good,” she purred, “maybe we’ll do that one day. Or maybe not. We’ll see. Now sleep, we both need some rest.” I closed my eyes. “Mistress?” “Mhm?” “My back hurts.” “Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled, already halfway asleep, “that’s what you get from going home with strangers.” It took a bit longer than that for me to follow her into the lands of dreams, but my exhaustion won out over the pain at one point, and I dreamed of whips and shackles and crowds of cruel women, but the image that kept repeating itself was one of Anne, a cane in her hand, about to swing it at my breasts just like Helen had done earlier. * * * * When I awoke, the events seemed even more surreal to me than when they had happened. Anne was already busy making breakfast – apparently, she had snuck out to fetch fresh rolls, because the smells of bakery and coffee almanbahis giriş filled the room and made me salivate. I sat up, groaning with pain when I put too much weight on my abused buttocks. “Good morning, Bunnie!” Anne put a roll onto a plate and set it on the old plastic serving tray we had kept around for no discernible reason. “You stay in bed right now! I’ll bring you breakfast in a min.” I sank back, suddenly incredibly touched, and the world around me blurred a little. I couldn’t stay mad with her about sneaking off, not when I had seen these worried and caring looks travel my way. She poured a cup of coffee and added a generous pouring of milk and put two spoonfuls of sugar into it, to create exactly the sweet, creamy-brown goodness I loved on slow days. On school days, I wanted kick, so I usually added just enough milk and sugar to take away the worst of the edge, but on weekends, I indulged myself. And today, Anne was all set to indulge me. She approached with the tray and put it down across my legs, then climbed onto the bed and sat down with crossed legs, facing me. “Honey or jam?” “I’m not an invalid.” I realized how harsh my words sounded instantly. “Sorry, I just meant… you don’t need to treat me as if I’m fragile…” My cheeks flushed. To my relief, she giggled. “You? Fragile? That’s a good one.” Her hand searched mine and wrapped around it. “You’re the strongest, most daring girl I know.” Her thumb brushed the back of my hand, and I sighed softly. “I just want to indulge you a little. It’s my fault too that…” “Balderdash!” I giggled when she looked at me wide-eyed. I had always wanted to use that word. “Nobody’s at fault but me. I knew deep down very well what I let myself in for. I was jealous and hot-tempered and naive, and I made a bit of a bad decision.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and the need to catch her in my arms and kiss her senseless became almost overwhelming. I thought of the tray on my legs at the last moment and settled back down with a sigh. “Hey, Anne.” I reached up and brushed the tear away. “Mistress.” She sniffled a bit, but she never stopped smiling, and my heart was filled with love. “Mistress, I want us to be completely honest. I don’t want you to hold back and hide your thoughts and needs. And I’ll promise that I’ll talk to you whenever I feel left out and alone, before I can do anything stupid. Would that… would that be okay?” I watched her expectantly. Instead of answering, she slowly picked up the tray and set it down on the nightstand. Then she pulled away the blanket. It was almost funny that I felt myself blush when her eyes roamed all over my body. She sighed, lying down next to me and running a hand through my hair. “Oh Bunnie, you’re so right. We should have talked instead of assuming.” Her soft kiss on the tip of my nose made me giggle. “Do you really want to know what I’m dreaming of?” “I do,” I answered honestly, and somehow, it felt almost like an oath. “Tell me.” She took a deep breath. “You remember Jolene? The girl in yellow latex?” I chuckled. “As if I could forget her!” “Right.” Anne’s grin got a bit sheepish. “Well, she’s a body artist.” She looked deep into my eyes. “And she’s really good in it. I want her to do you over. I…” I saw her cheeks flush and her lips tremble slightly. Whatever fantasy she was about to confess, it had to be powerful. Her voice grew scratchy. “I love pink. I want her to make you all pink. Your hair…” She softly stroked it. “Your brows…” She trailed their lines with a finger, then leaned very close and whispered into my ears, almost choking up, “Your lips.
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