Your cock is beautiful – 38

“Ahh… five Sir.” she whimpered.

“Hm.” I answered, dropping the crop.

“I… I spoke too, Sir.” she said.

I paused, then smiled.

“Yes, you did.” I said, picking up the crop again.

I hit her five times in quick succession, mostly on her cheeks with one or two dipping to her well fucked pussy. She gasped and sighed, but didn’t bother to count as I didn’t give her time.

“Thank you Sir.” she said when I finished.

“Any time.” I answered.

I picked up the black strap and bound her arms behind her back, pulling it tight into her flesh. I did it quickly, eager to get back to it.

“Sit up.” I said, pulling her up by the hair.

It was tough without her arms, but she sat up on her knees.

I lay down on the bed and grabbed my hard cock by the base.

“Sit.” I said simply.

She smiled and started to wiggle her legs, trying to get on top of me without falling over. It was sort of funny to watch, and she blushed when I let out a small chuckle.

With my help she raised herself over me, and sank slowly onto my cock.

“Mmm… fuck…” she moaned, enjoying the sensation.

I’d left the riding crop beside me, and I picked it up. I quickly reached behind her and whipped her hard across the back. She hissed at the pain and arched her back, thrusting her tits forward.

“Don’t talk.” I said simply.

She bit her lower lip and nodded, and slowly started to fuck me. I lay back with my arms resting behind my head, and closed my eyes.

She felt incredible around my cock, as always, and she was really trying to keep a steady rhythm with her hips. Unfortunately, every few strokes she’d falter, and either sink too quickly downwards, or hesitate too long moving up.

“Here sweetheart.” I said.

I reached behind my pillow and took out a little brown bag. Out of it I pulled a blindfold, and I sat up.

“You need to concentrate.” I said.

She bit her lip when she saw it, but just nodded as I slipped it over her head.

I sat back with her effectively blinded, and enjoyed the sight of her.

“Move, slut.” I ordered, lightly whipping her shoulder.

She grunted with pain and started to ride me again, biting her lip in concentration. Her rhythm was more consistent now, and I was able to just enjoy the pleasure she gave me.

She rode me quickly, falling into an easy rhythm.

“That’s it slut, ride my cock.” I grunted, pushing my hips up.

“Yes… yes Sir…” she gasped.

The stimulation was getting to her, I could see that. As I watched her body twitch and shake, her large tits bouncing and shaking with every thrust; and as I listened to her addictively erotic moans and squeals, I was once again amazed by the sheer eroticism of her.

And again I was amazed by her capacity for pleasure. After mere minutes of riding me, she was again about to cum.

She let out a series of distressed feminine grunts as her soaking wet pussy captured my full erection over and over again, her toned stomach tensing and flexing with effort.

“I… I’m sorry!” she barely managed to squeak, as yet another orgasm washed over her.

She sat still as her tight pussy twitched and squeezed around my cock, but after a few seconds she began to shakily ride me again, trying to prolong her pleasure.

“Oh.. fuck Sir, oh my God!” she squealed, as she squirts her juices around my cock.

She eventually slowed, and sat panting with her mouth open wide.

“That was two orgasms, wasn’t it sweetheart?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain calm and casual despite the constant arousal and pleasure she was providing.

“Yes Sir.” she sighed, her voice becoming hoarse.

“And you spoke quite a few times.” I sighed, picking up the crop.

“Yes S- Ah!” she squeaked, as I began to whip her chest.

I attacked both her nipples, first one then the other, over and over, then whipped along her collar bone, leaving a trail of slowly appearing red blotches along her perfect skin. She gasped and twitched with every light, stinging stroke, but never once tried to shy away from the pain.

I stopped at fifteen, and dropped the crop beside me.

“I’m really sick of you talking.” I said casually, “A good slut should know when to shut up.”

“I’m sorry Sir.” she said, her voice unsteady.

“That wasn’t an invitation to speak.” I said, my voice stern.