Chatroulette?Trackid=Sp-44's Profile

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Languages: English, Espanol, Francais

Location: France

Body Decorations: belly piercing/ tattoo

Smokes/Drinks: https://onlyfans.com/jenny.wildd

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans

Age: 30

Body Type: all natural

Chatroulette?Trackid=Sp-44 - It all added up to a guy's bed.

Wouldn't be the first time they'd done a "housecall", would there?" "Oh yes, that would be fantastic. I can do it. I know a tight little slut can't wait to have her first touch on someone's hairy, wet pussies." I put a hand up on his crotch to steady myself as my fingers softly stroked him. I cupped my wet fingers around one of his large, hard balls, and traced the outline of the head with my thumb. For the rhythm, I doubled down on the stroking. For the fire, I got more aggressive. With each stroke, my fingers slid closer to the sensitive organ. I cruelly tripped over something, and tripped back again before the full effect could kick in. Just when I thought I'd burst in another of those fits of uncontrollable lust, I felt something hard holding my hand. With a combination of relief and a mixture of intense arousal and nervousness, I felt my hand being pushed aside. I moaned softly, half in agony, half in ecstasy. For a moment, I wondered it had left me hanging like some retro game within my imagination; then, incredibly quick, I heard him breathe and fell back against him. I just wish I'd stayed like that long.

I can't imagine a more erotic sight than my hand between those shiny buttocks of yours. My head lolled back, chest heaving, groans escaping the lost gag. "Now then," said the voice, "I think you need a bit more than that." I felt a lazy grin beginning to creep over my face. "Well, if you think about it, you've got five more to go. First, a double treat." The sting of the cane made me jump, and the many tiny whacks over and over startedle the vicious whaling that accompanied the strikes. "Two for each day you disobeyed, b-but the others are only nine for the year, so you'll have to work your t-hat into your punishment." I bit my lip as he finished with the last lash. At the same time, a silent burst of laughter escaped the gag. He set down the phone and slapped my thigh, signalling to continue the beating. With the occasional crack of the whip, I found myself pushed deeper into the dungeon. Although there was hardly any blood from my tortured victims, the constant stimulation of spanks and the clink of the paddle seemed to be a constant feature of the experience. More electricity coursed through my body when I became aware of the audience. Although they could hear my ragged breathing and screams through the gag, few of them moved a step towards confronting me. I was powerless to stop the wave of unrelenting torment that swept me from the very core of myself. I simply couldn't think of anything but the pain that swept through me when I was naked, helpless and unable to stop it.

I had once been so naïve about the possibilities of sex that I had thought that a six-inch vibrator could satisfy my every sexual desire. Those days are long gone, but the power that I once had over my lower half that held me together and was protected by my bandana kept me moving even when I couldn't move my head. If I just wanted to fuck, I was forced to sit still; if I just wanted to be dominated, I was forced to kneel. Sometimes it was the loud slurping of the audience that made me convulse in spasms of orgasm; others, less persuasive chants of "Yes, yes, yes" and "Yes, Yes, Yes" escaped my lips as I held my own helpless in their fury. Perhaps my most effective weapon was my right arm; my upper body was covered in a soft, rubbery cloak that I had put on to shield myself from the audience. The most powerful thing I could do with it was raise my hand above my head and bring it down softly on my bare ass. But it was this that seemed to most offend the audience. I could hear their sharp growls and the shouts of "Stop! That's not fair! You should really use that!" Even as the blows rained down on my flesh, my mind was racing. I was experiencing the subtlest, deepest, most confusing feelings of defeat since I had entered that room. How could I have gotten so complacent? I walked to the center of the stage and threw myself down onto it with my chest pressed against the thick back of the door frame. In a downward twist, my right arm came around in a horizontal stack, looped around the handrail, and out onto the center loop. My left arm extended the length of my body in a long, extended-strike gesture. After pausing long enough to let the audience catch its breath, I once again raised my hand above my head and brought it down hard on my left cheek..

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