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Crack! The first impact strikes her bare buttocks. Cecile yelps and jerks forward across the tall, padded stool she’s currently bent over. A precarious position, head down, wrists secured with a soft cord to a low crossbar. Cecile’s legs are spread to maintain balance, the toes of her high heels only just touching the floor. A full-skirted evening dress is raised high around the woman’s trim waist leaving her naked buttocks exposed and vulnerable.The tails of the martinet hit the crease between Cecile’s bottom cheeks, making her hips convulse at the smart, affording an enticing view of two ring-pieced labia. Despite, perhaps because of her predicament, Cecile looks beautiful; lustrous auburn hair, a sumptuous derriere and a narrow waist create an enticing vision of submissive womanhood. This current ordeal/entertainment – depending on one’s perspective – commenced some 10 minutes previously within these luxurious environs. One cannot apply to join this Parisian club; membership is by invitation only, following a covert vetting by those already on an exclusive list. As is customary at Le Castille, a short time previously Cecile and her fellow subs reached into an inverted top hat and randomly chose a small envelope containing a number and brief instructions.Entering room six, head down, hands meekly clasped in front she stood next to the stool and closed her eyes; schooled in such rituals and instinctively knowing what to do. Minutes passed, time seemed to slow during these erotic encounters, Cecile nervously fidgeted from foot to foot, silently willing proceedings to begin. The only furnishings in the windowless chamber were two wall-mounted mirrors on opposite sides and a wooden chest containing instruments of correction. The door opened and sensing a presence behind her, Cecile was unsurprised to be blindfolded with a long silk scarf and pushed firmly forward across the stool. Next, her panties were pulled down with tantalising slowness, to reveal a perfect peach of an arse, a bottom made to worship, punish, or both. The choice wasn’t hers to make, instead the mystery person spent several minutes bursa escort manoeuvring Cecile into the desired stance. Which – possibly all – of her orifices might they use when discipline was deemed complete, Cecile wondered? Cecile’s spanker is a woman of a certain age, undeniably glamorous, familiar to those who move effortlessly within high society. Madame has chic, elfin-cropped silver hair and bounteous breasts; also wearing a formal evening gown she’s relishing every moment of Cecile’s chastisement. The unknown implement currently scourging the younger woman’s posterior is a martinet, adroitly wielded by an experienced hand; the tails striking accurately upon Cecile’s increasingly crimson-streaked bottom.A martinet, you enquire? Archetypally French, it’s a multi-tail whip with a short wooden handle and 12 leather thongs, each around 30 cm long – something of a connoisseur’s choice. The tails strike her sensitive thighs, eliciting a cry from Cecile, stoking an inner fire, and making her visibly wet. She dares not close her legs for fear of falling, tied hands unable to shield her bottom.Her punisher approaches closer, leaning forward to slip their hands under her décolletage and pinch Cecile’s engorged nipples. Generous breasts press against her back, an audible rustle as clothing is adjusted followed by the feel of nylon-clad legs between Cecile’s bare thighs. Something stiff yet flexible nudges her labia; a strap-on perhaps – is she to be fucked by a woman?“Merde,” an exclamation of momentary frustration from behind her as Cecile’s punisher struggles to find the optimum angle, then a sigh of satisfaction when she succeeds. Slender hands hold Cecile’s hips, pulling the bound woman backward onto the artificial phallus insistently pushing into her slickly accommodating pussy Whereas a man might now lustily plunder her depths this woman fucks her subtly, takes Cecile to the brink, then pauses, prolonging the exquisite sensations. Both are panting, the artificial phallus sinks deeper, assuming a greater urgency.This is not Cecile’s first rodeo, she’s been fucked with altıparmak escort a dildo before, fucked herself for that matter. Something about the sensual weight of this woman’s body, the scent of her parfum, and barely suppressed gasps of pleasure all combine to make this instance exquisite. Cecile is clearly in capable hands, someone who understands the rewards of sensual intercourse – whether giving or receiving. Finally, the mix of sensations overwhelms her senses, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, Cecile moans as a climactic shudder rocks her world, ecstatically surrendering to a very vocal orgasm and momentarily feeling guilty that the mystery spanker has not experienced similar joy. Expecting to be freed Cecile hears the stranger walk to the door and admit a second person. A brief murmured greeting, heavier footsteps approach and the whipping resumes. Concentrated where thighs and bottom meet, striking already sore skin and eliciting outraged complaints. Thankfully for her burning bottom, it doesn’t last long. Unexpectedly the newcomer, Cecile senses them to be male, tweaks the little jewelled butt plug peaking enticingly from between her hot and stinging moons.Apologies, was this not previously mentioned? Quel dommage. The smooth steel plug is the ultimate symbol of Cecile’s compliant subjugation. When getting ready for this erotic assignation she’d deliberately decide to insert one. Carefully spreading lube onto the narrower end with a manicured finger, Cecile crouched on the bed, reached back and, feeling wanton, pulled her arse cheeks wide apart. Delicately applied a little more KY to her rosebud, and insistently slid the plug inside her tight bottom hole. Wincing at the initial discomfort, then sighing with pleasure as the cool sculpted shape prepared her for something larger…. That moment has arrived. Monsieur, for it is indeed a man – tall, distinguished and, like all males present, wearing a DJ – carefully pulls the plug from Cecile’s arse leaving it gaping in lewd invitation. Cautiously he eases his cock into the void; first engaging just görükle escort the head he teases her rosebud, letting Cecile adjust to its presence before penetrating further.”Oh my! That’s so big,” she whimpers.Meanwhile, the mystery female has changed ends, crouching before Cecile to free her bound wrists. They embrace, exchanging long, lingering kisses that stifle Cecile’s impassioned moans as her most intimate opening is expertly shafted. The woman caresses Cecile’s hair, body, and breasts, murmuring reassurances, holding her in place as the man’s ardour builds and he thrusts determinedly, the full width of his girth stretching her back passage.“Oh, mon dieu,” Cecile moans, “please don’t stop!” Holding her hips the mystery gentleman withdraws his erection almost all the way out, then drives in hard. Each thrust results in a loud cry as he reams her gorgeous arsehole. Lost to arousal they reach a mutual crescendo, Cecile’s whole body convulses, he spurts, she squirts, and the walls echo to cries of pleasure and sexual release. In the confusion of limbs, the blindfold momentarily shifts allowing a fleeting glimpse of her Sapphic lover. In a flash the covering is replaced, clothes are hastily adjusted, footsteps recede, and the door closes. As wetness seeps down her thighs Cecile is left satiated and alone. Shakily she staggers to her feet, Cecile rarely losses control so completely, yet feels exultant rather than shamed. Vanilla sex is good, but you can’t beat (she laughs inwardly at the pun) the real thing. Adrenalin and dopamine surge around her system, this extreme stimulation is not like a drug, it is a drug. At the last moment, she remembers the plug and pops it into her Dior bag, prior to exiting the salon where participants socialise before and after playing. Cecile is on a mission to reciprocate the intense pleasure her mystery female lover has been instrumental in bestowing. Who is she, does she switch? Cecile plans to find out. Emboldened by their encounter at Le Castille, our heroine is determined to track down her mysterious paramour. With a few discrete questions and a couple of modest bribes, it’s not too difficult for Cecile to discover the whereabouts of her mysterious domme – lunching, as is apparently Madame’s custom, in a bistro opposite the publishing firm where she is a directeur. Cecile slips quickly into the seat opposite and fixes the woman with a conspiratorial smile.
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