see also the previous part and the very first part.
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i slide a straw into a bottle of water and feed the end into your mouth. you drink gratefully, though not much, and then you look up. you okay? i whisper, as i stroke your cheek with the side of my hand. a soft nod and a whispered yes ma’am is enough for me to set the bottle aside.
the crop replaces it, the one whose tip is shaped like a heart. i hold it to your lips and you lift to kiss it. as i take the crop away you close your eyes and put your head down.
i tap the flat heart against one sole and your toes curl, wrinkles blossoming across your soft brown foot. i tap again, and your sole is smooth. your fingers curl around the ropes as i raise the crop.
count, i tell you, and then the crop comes down on your left sole with a crack. you cry out, and your toes clench for a moment, i can see the knuckles. one! you gasp. i lift the crop, tap your right foot, and then deliver a second blow. you shriek. two! then back to the left, a tap, a blow. three! you grunt. another to the right. four! the left. five! the right. six! seven! eight nine ten!
on the eleventh blow you squeal again - you know i favor sets of ten, and you’d hoped five to each foot would be sufficient. not tonight - eleven, you whimper, as you resign yourself to nine more blows. you clench your teeth and suffer through them like a good submissive.
you call twenty! and hold your breath until you feel me lay the crop on the bed beside you. you lay your wet cheek on the sheets and try to rub your tingling feet against one another. i drag five nails down each red hot sole.
you scream and pull away, but i’ve got you by the toes, and it is torture for you as my nails dance across your burning skin. i keep the touches light but constant, and your soles are so tender now that even this is enough to have you begging, then whimpering, then sobbing softly into a pillow.
relief comes when my nails are replaced by a cool, wet tongue, but licking across the still-hot skin is enough to make you gasp, and when my tongue zeroes in on a welt it is enough to make you shriek. i take two plump, limp toes into my mouth and tongue them, and you let yourself relax. as i munch on these morsels i let the back of my hand occasionally brush your still-tingling soles and this makes you wince and shiver. then i suck a toe hard.
soon this play has you wet and hot - i can smell you. i untie your ankles, cradling them to admire the rope marks. your scent teases my nostrils and i lay your feet down. i turn you onto your back.
i slide up onto your belly to admire that smile sparkling on your face. you lie back on your still-bound arms but your head lifts and your legs encircle me. your thighs glow with golden heat and i reach my hand to touch.
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i slide a straw into a bottle of water and feed the end into your mouth. you drink gratefully, though not much, and then you look up. you okay? i whisper, as i stroke your cheek with the side of my hand. a soft nod and a whispered yes ma’am is enough for me to set the bottle aside.
the crop replaces it, the one whose tip is shaped like a heart. i hold it to your lips and you lift to kiss it. as i take the crop away you close your eyes and put your head down.
i tap the flat heart against one sole and your toes curl, wrinkles blossoming across your soft brown foot. i tap again, and your sole is smooth. your fingers curl around the ropes as i raise the crop.
count, i tell you, and then the crop comes down on your left sole with a crack. you cry out, and your toes clench for a moment, i can see the knuckles. one! you gasp. i lift the crop, tap your right foot, and then deliver a second blow. you shriek. two! then back to the left, a tap, a blow. three! you grunt. another to the right. four! the left. five! the right. six! seven! eight nine ten!
on the eleventh blow you squeal again - you know i favor sets of ten, and you’d hoped five to each foot would be sufficient. not tonight - eleven, you whimper, as you resign yourself to nine more blows. you clench your teeth and suffer through them like a good submissive.
you call twenty! and hold your breath until you feel me lay the crop on the bed beside you. you lay your wet cheek on the sheets and try to rub your tingling feet against one another. i drag five nails down each red hot sole.
you scream and pull away, but i’ve got you by the toes, and it is torture for you as my nails dance across your burning skin. i keep the touches light but constant, and your soles are so tender now that even this is enough to have you begging, then whimpering, then sobbing softly into a pillow.
relief comes when my nails are replaced by a cool, wet tongue, but licking across the still-hot skin is enough to make you gasp, and when my tongue zeroes in on a welt it is enough to make you shriek. i take two plump, limp toes into my mouth and tongue them, and you let yourself relax. as i munch on these morsels i let the back of my hand occasionally brush your still-tingling soles and this makes you wince and shiver. then i suck a toe hard.
soon this play has you wet and hot - i can smell you. i untie your ankles, cradling them to admire the rope marks. your scent teases my nostrils and i lay your feet down. i turn you onto your back.
i slide up onto your belly to admire that smile sparkling on your face. you lie back on your still-bound arms but your head lifts and your legs encircle me. your thighs glow with golden heat and i reach my hand to touch.
