School of Discipline: The Complete Trilogy: Victorian BDSM Erotica
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Tears began to roll down my cheeks as he thrust forwards again, forcing his cock even deeper into my open mouth. My jaws were aching and I couldn't breath properly, but I tried to follow his advice, allowing my saliva to flow over his shaft and helmet. He was now thrusting his cock back and forth into my moist orifice, pulling me towards him by my hair as he vigorously thrust his hips forward, each time forcing his shaft a a little deeper into my throat. Gradually, I managed to adapt, snatching little breaths as he slid out, and concentrating on not choking as he rammed it back in. Despite his rough treatment of me, I had no thought of trying to fight him off or escape. He was my Master, and I was his servant, and I had promised that I would obey his every command. If he wished to roughly use my mouth for his pleasure – well – that was his prerogative.
The Submission of Little Lady Sophia
When beautiful and innocent Sophia is told that she is to marry Lord Sebastian Morgan, she feels like her life is over before it has even begun. Though handsome, Sebastian has a reputation for cruelty, and Sophia fears that her future with him will be far from happy.
But Lord Morgan's reputation doesn't even begin to do him justice, and Sophia soon finds that in the flesh he is even more depraved and devilish than she expected. On her wedding night, he introduces her to his twisted desires, and soon the young and inexperienced Sophia finds herself drawn into a world of intense pleasure and exquisite pain. Can Sophia's body and mind survive the night intact? Or will she lose herself as she becomes a plaything of her new Lord and Master?
Swish!
My world exploded in agony as Sebastian suddenly lifted his arm and brought the birch down onto my right thigh. He had not even put too much force into the blow, but such was the surprise and pain of feeling the rough branches of his implement collide with my delicate skin that I gave out a sharp cry. My feet skidded on the floor, and I almost lost my balance as I hung there, half suspended. After a moment I looked down at my legs, and saw that my thigh now had a thin red line cut across it where the birch had made contact with my skin.
“See?” Sebastian asked me, glee in his voice. “See how improved it is? Why, it is quite, quite beautiful.” He frowned. “But there’s something missing though. I know what it is. We have contrast, but no symmetry. Well, we can soon see to that!”
Swish!
This time the blow of the birch fell across my left thigh, with much the same force as the strike he had inflicted on its opposite. I was better prepared this time, and did not wobble quite so much, but I still could not help but let out a yelp as the rough twigs struck home. I looked down, and saw that my left thigh now also bore a diagonal red line – almost identical to the first.
“There, you see,” exclaimed my husband exultantly. “Now we have both contrast and symmetry. Wonderful.” He walked behind me so that I could no longer see him. Suddenly, I felt his hand on my buttocks, caressing and squeezing them. I jolted forward slightly, startled, but he put his hand on my hip and steadied me. He was pressed against me now, and I could feel the hard bulge under his breeches as it pressed against my bottom. He was clearly enjoying his little game.
“Your arse is quite wonderful,” he told me, breathing into my ear. “Your waist is so slim, but I love how your hips and buttocks bulge outwards in such a womanly way. They remind me of a peach. A ripe, juicy, delicious peach.” He backed away slightly, and I could sense him lifting the birch into the air. “But of course, peaches have red skin!”
Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!
Blow upon blow from the birch rained down on my bare bottom. Left cheek, then right, left again, right again – the strikes kept coming. The twigs blazed burning paths of pain along my sensitive skin as they struck, and my entire backside soon felt aflame. I was shrieking and yelping, swaying from side to side as I desperately sought to avoid my husband’s fierce onslaught on my tender rump. But it was no use – the leather straps that enclosed my wrists were fastened tight, and all I managed to achieve was to make myself sway from side to side on the rope. Tears of pain and humiliation were now rolling down my cheeks, and I prayed to heaven that my ordeal would end soon.
But – there was more to it than that. Though my mind raged against the unjust punishment my husband was inflicting on me, my body was more… conflicted.
Did it hurt? By God yes, worse than any pain I had ever experienced. Was it humiliating? Of course. I was bound and naked, my wrists tied together as I swayed back and forth, a tempting target for my husband’s perversions. And yet – I was beginning to feel a certain… enjoyment. Every time the birch struck a jolt of pain shot through my body, leaving me breathless and tearful. But once the pain receded a kind of tingling sensation remained, a prickling of nerves that was not at all unpleasant. Even more pronounced was the ache that was developing between my thighs. Not a painful ache, but more one of desire and yearning. I realized that I was becoming wet down there, and I was filled with an overwhelming urge to reach down and touch myself.
How could this be? The sensation was not entirely unfamiliar to me. On occasion when I bathed I had closed my eyes, summoned up images of my Prince Charming, and then reached down to part my delicate petals and pleasure myself. I had even rubbed the delicate nub above my opening, and I had found that with vigorous motion I could transport myself to a world of bliss that seemed barely possible. But that was in very different circumstances.
How was it that my pussy was growing hot and wet as my husband mercilessly punished me? He had readily admitted that he was a pervert, but were his actions exposing me as a kind of pervert too? Could it be that while he took a twisted delight in inflicting pain, I could be induced to arousal by receiving it?