Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 29

Raylene paused for a second, then opened her mouth obediently, releasing the razor strop into my hand. There was a wet semicircle bounded by teeth marks. Raylene had taken great care not to let the strop fall.

The thought made me smile, though she couldn’t see me. She knew I’d punish her if she disobeyed, so she tried hard to do as she was told. So long as the orders I gave her were possible, and hot. We had each other where we wanted.  

Always an option.

Always an option.

I hadn’t made up my mind what I wanted to do next. Whipping her with that strop would certainly be a pleasure. I’d hurt her nipples back in the kitchen, and that had made me hard. That lust was still driving me. I imagined her gasps and cries when I used the strop, her bottom jerking under the lashes in that beautiful dance of pain and excitement, and the progressive reddening of her buttocks and thighs.

And I imagined how soft and giving she’d be when I’d finished, and how much she’d want to feel me hard and inside her.

Those were heady ideas, and images. But I also wanted to fuck her immediately, here on these steps, my cock in her right now, no delay.

While I considered these two options I held the leather to Raylene’s lips for her to kiss, which she did without instruction.

And, I noticed after keeping the leather to her lips to show that more than a casual salute was required, she kissed it with her eyes closed, and something like passion. She worked earnestly at the leather as though pleasuring a lover with her lips and tongue. She was in her own world.

So I decided I’d take her to her bedroom and – though I’d swing the strop across her hips and sides while I fucked her – we’d fuck in relative comfort. She’d be expecting to get to get a good hard taste of the strop first, but we could get round to that later. First and urgently, I wanted my cock in her.

I took the strap away from her mouth again, and swung it lightly across her hip. When Raylene had focussed her attention on me, I said, “Which door? Which one’s your bedroom?”

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