How dense a day 5
But the day must be faced and we prepare to face it together. It's a longish walk to the station we use to go to London and a pleasant day for it. We walk and talk and she occasionally lets her hand fondle my bottom. I love being felt up but have a horror of being seen or offending people. She just doesn't give a f**k. As she says, when will you see these people again? A fair point but i can't cope and so I'm forever begging her to quit it. But wishing she'd do it more obviously.
We get to town and enjoy a lovely breakfast - well mine was lovely her eggs overdone and salmon scrimped. The market yields its usual bounties and before long we're heading back to hers on the train. She carries nothing and i carry all - a back pack and two shopping bags wrapped around my wrists. I sometimes lead in hopes she'll take advantages. Sometimes i follow, watching her bottom and thinking on when i will kiss it again. The weight of the shopping bags leave marks on my wrists like ropes, or the cuffs she uses to hang me from the ceiling in her dungeon.
Wholesomely earned submissive marks.
It's quite busy on the train (curses) but witj helpful angles and with a shopping bag on my lap she's able to surreptitiously slip her hand into my lap without anyone seeing.
Ohhh dear how much does this do it for me? She is just petting it, feeling the swollen head in her fingers, pinching and scraping nails over it without moving her arm. The fabric of my shorts is so thin i am throbbing in her hand, soaking up the attention and biting my tongue to stop myself from moaning out loud. As it is i moan softly to myself. Amidst the rattle of the train it's lost. Like me.
Back at her station we de-train, catch a taxi up to hers and in ten minutes i am naked in her dungeon, strapped to her ceiling by the leather suspension cuffs, not on tippy toes alas, but facing the mirror as i am swiftly brought to a ruin. There is no big pause, just an equally swift stroking, her body pressed into me from behind, left arm reaching around, right squeezing my tits. The orgasm is too intense, it's been a while, and I'm too sensitive. She pumps and pumps and only stops when it's clear I'm close to tears.
We pause. I come down off the ceiling, wrists now marked with marks less wholesomely earned. I fall into the big bed and sleep for a bit.
When i awake, there is time for a traditional send-off. Naked i spread myself out for her, arms gripping the pillows either side of my head. Baby oil is generously poured onto my still sore crotch and the bottle wedged by my head and a pillow if more needed.
She climbs next to me, in a state of deshabille, just her underwear, kneeling beside me one hand tweaking a nipple, her left stroking firmly but tenderly. It is implacable. She is implacable. Ma belle Tyrante looms over me, breasts swinging as she joyfully pumps and pulls and i climax again.
This is worse, harder on my sensitive knoblet, i am quickly (but quietly) shrieking and within a minute she relents and let's me go.
Soon I'm cleaned, tidied, dressed and hugging her goodbye in the doorway. As i walk down the street i see her everytime i look back. We wave each time, til i turn a corner and am at last again alone.
We'll do it again soon. I hope. I know.
We get to town and enjoy a lovely breakfast - well mine was lovely her eggs overdone and salmon scrimped. The market yields its usual bounties and before long we're heading back to hers on the train. She carries nothing and i carry all - a back pack and two shopping bags wrapped around my wrists. I sometimes lead in hopes she'll take advantages. Sometimes i follow, watching her bottom and thinking on when i will kiss it again. The weight of the shopping bags leave marks on my wrists like ropes, or the cuffs she uses to hang me from the ceiling in her dungeon.
Wholesomely earned submissive marks.
It's quite busy on the train (curses) but witj helpful angles and with a shopping bag on my lap she's able to surreptitiously slip her hand into my lap without anyone seeing.
Ohhh dear how much does this do it for me? She is just petting it, feeling the swollen head in her fingers, pinching and scraping nails over it without moving her arm. The fabric of my shorts is so thin i am throbbing in her hand, soaking up the attention and biting my tongue to stop myself from moaning out loud. As it is i moan softly to myself. Amidst the rattle of the train it's lost. Like me.
Back at her station we de-train, catch a taxi up to hers and in ten minutes i am naked in her dungeon, strapped to her ceiling by the leather suspension cuffs, not on tippy toes alas, but facing the mirror as i am swiftly brought to a ruin. There is no big pause, just an equally swift stroking, her body pressed into me from behind, left arm reaching around, right squeezing my tits. The orgasm is too intense, it's been a while, and I'm too sensitive. She pumps and pumps and only stops when it's clear I'm close to tears.
We pause. I come down off the ceiling, wrists now marked with marks less wholesomely earned. I fall into the big bed and sleep for a bit.
When i awake, there is time for a traditional send-off. Naked i spread myself out for her, arms gripping the pillows either side of my head. Baby oil is generously poured onto my still sore crotch and the bottle wedged by my head and a pillow if more needed.
She climbs next to me, in a state of deshabille, just her underwear, kneeling beside me one hand tweaking a nipple, her left stroking firmly but tenderly. It is implacable. She is implacable. Ma belle Tyrante looms over me, breasts swinging as she joyfully pumps and pulls and i climax again.
This is worse, harder on my sensitive knoblet, i am quickly (but quietly) shrieking and within a minute she relents and let's me go.
Soon I'm cleaned, tidied, dressed and hugging her goodbye in the doorway. As i walk down the street i see her everytime i look back. We wave each time, til i turn a corner and am at last again alone.
We'll do it again soon. I hope. I know.
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