Trial of Sado-Masochism

I have heard... things... about Mrs. Hawthorne's detentionary sessions. Some claim that it is one of the most exciting hour and a half of their lives. Others have said that it was one of the most trialing things in their lives, so intense, so horrifying, that they never wanted to have sex again!

My mouth was smothered with a bright-red ball-gag. My erection was packaged in a rough bag-like chastity belt, held there with strings, chains and a lock. It was not like I could service my boner anyways, my arms tied back by a black-leather armbinder.

I was sitting on a wooden horse, the tip of the triangular prism cutting into my pussy like a sword, my own weight holding me down into it, feeling like it could cut me a larger cunt if I was not careful. It was very painful, accentuated by the clothes-pins holding onto my nipples.

I moaned and grunted in pain as I felt a riding crop thwack against my ass, Mrs. Hawthorne muttering phrases like "bad girl" and "you like that, you fucking whore?!" in a mantra. She leaned into my ear.

"Bad girls need to be punished," she said before biting my earlobe. "Punishment must be slow, or else how are you going to learn?"

I moaned louder as I felt two gloved fingers probe the entrance of my ass, stretching me out as she fingered me.

"I saw your files today and it said that your birthday was today. I don't do this for just anyone..."

"Do what?" I asked, my words garbled and obscured behind the gag.

I lost my breath as something invaded my tight ass, Mrs. Hawthorne probing my insides with the handle of her riding crop.