Couch of Torment

I fell back onto the couch, the man approached, grabbed my hair,

"Do you like that?"

"Yes, sir."

He slapped my breasts three times with the flat of his hand, my nipples hardening even more, making the blows more painful.

"Spread your legs as wide as you can, expose your sex."

I obeyed, expecting what was coming: slaps rained down on my genitals, my clitoris.

"Ah, oh, yes, ah."

He laughed, sounding satisfied.

His fingers dug into my thighs, spreading my legs wider despite my moans. The dominatrix leaned down, her crimson nails carving red furrows into the skin of my hips.

"Look how wet she is," she murmured, sliding an icy finger along my slit, making me shudder.

"Yes, the agency spoiled us rotten, we're going to have some fun, you're going to feel it, my dear."

"Oh yes, sir."

With these words, she took off my glasses.

"We're not going to damage these, but the rest..."

She spat in my face, slapped me, hit my breasts and genitals, grabbed my red hair, pulled, and violently turned me around.

"Lean on the back of the sofa and show me your little ass, spread your thighs."

I obeyed. She slapped my buttocks viciously, my penis throbbing in a painful surge. She started spitting on my anus, and without further ado, she shoved her hand inside.

The pain tore at my lower abdomen like a red-hot blade as her fingers plunged in mercilessly. I shuddered, my nails digging into the rough fabric of the sofa, each brutal thrust of her hand making me arch my back in a mixture of pain and guilty excitement.

She began to pound into me, it was almost too much for me to bear. I moaned like a madwoman, and just as I was about to faint, she pulled me towards her, her soiled hand in my mouth, trying for a moment to **** it all the way in, but I couldn't.

"Clean it up, you dirty little bitch,"

Her fingers abruptly left my mouth, leaving behind a trail of saliva mixed with the acrid taste of leather and sweat. She slapped my breasts while her partner crushed my genitals with his foot, spreading them apart to strike my clitoris with a sharp blow that made me scream.

For a long time, her hand savagely struck my genitals, which were burning with pain. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, they threw a glass of water in my face and **** me to drink it.

As I regained my senses, the dominatrix took a riding crop and ordered me:

"Arch your back, offer me your breasts, your stomach, and your genitals." I obeyed, assuming a yielding posture, arching my stomach and thighs as far as they would go toward the ceiling.

The riding crop struck my breasts and genitals; it was a maelstrom of pain, and yet I was incredibly wet.

"Open your thighs wider," the dominatrix ordered in a hoarse voice, dragging the tip of the riding crop along my trembling thigh.

I obeyed with a moan, spreading my legs until my muscles burned, fully exposing my swollen, glistening genitals.

The whip whistled through the air before crashing down on my already swollen penis, making me scream. My body arched involuntarily, every muscle tense under the bite of the leather.

The whip whistled again, biting into my flesh with cruel precision. My penis throbbed, scarlet with each blow, each impact sending waves of searing pain that mingled strangely with the guilty pleasure rising within me.

The now-naked man stepped forward, slapping my penis as he moved up, striking my breasts with his hand. Then he seized my head and pulled it to his exceptional penis.

"Swallow."