Blair punishes you for your escape

“What’s this?”

You wake with a start, a hand on your bare ass, a first smack of the day. Blair’s standing over you, face filled with indignation, stance in anger. A stance which pushes out her tits, that once again are confined in inadequate material.

“Who said you could release yourself?”

“You did.”

“I said, if you did, I’d punish you. You want to be punished. That’s fine by me. Roll onto your stomach.” You know better than to disobey. “Put your hands behind your back.”

You do. You feel the leather manacles from the Snetterton Collection slip into place. Then she uses one of the new sets of manacles to tie your ankles together. You’re trussed. Lying on the bed. Arms behind your back. She moves away.

She returns with one of the new paddles. The stiffer, heavier one.

“As you want to be punished. I’ll punish you.”

The first slap is painful. The second slap is worse. She beats a drum, switching ass cheeks, slapping away. You know she’s not putting all her weight, all her strength behind it, but she’s not trying to let you off. You yelp with each blow. That just spurs her on. She doesn’t tell you to shut up. She wants you to cry.

God, it’s erotic. Yes, you’ve got a bloody hardon. How have you got a hardon? It’s painful. That should be dominating your thoughts. Instead, part of you appears to be enjoying it.

She stops. She delves into her bag and pulls out some cream. “This will ease the pain,” she tells you. She pours some of it onto your smarting ass, the cool of the cream instantly soothing it. Then she smears her hands with the cream and moves to massage your cheeks. If the spanking was erotic, the massage is even more so. She gets nowhere near your cock, or your balls, but you’re close to cumming with just her technique. When she’s finished there’s no pain left, not until she uncuffs your hands and rolls you over. Then the tenderness of your ass reasserts itself.

She wanders away, delves into her bag and pulls out a small pot of yogurt, and a punnet of strawberries. “Breakfast,” she tells you. “Your breakfast, I’ve already eaten.”

She pulls off her top to release her wonderful breasts. Slips out of her lycra shorts. Then opens the yogurt pot. She looks at the foil lid and then runs the bottom side over her nipples, leaving a smear of white yoghurt on them. She thrusts her yoghurt topped breasts towards you. “Here eat.”

First her left breast, then her right. You concentrate on where the yoghurt sits, but don’t run your tongue exclusively there. You lap at the unadorned flesh as much as the covered parts, tasting her salty skin along with the plain yoghurt. When both nipples are clean, she dribbles more yoghurt onto them and then returns them to your mouth. You suck on the nipples, until they’re hard nubs. You run your tongue over her areola. Every time you clean her breasts, more yoghurt is dribbled on, and you return to cleaning them. You have to admit this the best way you’ve ever eaten yoghurt.

With half the pot gone, she pauses. She opens the punnet of strawberries and picks one, a big one. She adjusts herself on the bed, so you can see her glistening sex. She takes the strawberry and runs it through her folds, dips it into her pussy. It emerges glistening. She feeds it to you. The sweetness of the strawberry compliments the saltiness of her arousal. More strawberries follow, each one dipped in her special sauce.

The punnet empty, she returns to the yoghurt pot. She straddles your face, so her pussy is over your mouth. Your tongue leaps out to lick her. The exchange of flavours was not one way. Where the strawberries hinted of her pussy, her pussy hints of strawberries. You devour the taste. As you devour, she dribbles yoghurt into her folds. You lap it all up. You don’t stop, even when she runs out of yoghurt. The sweetness of strawberries has gone, the yoghurt dried up, only her natural flavours are left. The pressure of her thighs on your cheeks increases. A steady rise until a sudden increase. And then your breakfast is finished with the flavour of her inner juices, a flood of liquid to complement the shudders of her orgasm.

She steps away with pure satisfaction in her blue eyes. Her breaths are deep, involving her whole body. “For that,” she gasps, “you deserve a reward.” Her eyes drift to the solid shaft that has stood unattended between your thighs. She licks her lips, then reaches to the tubs of lube. She squeezes some onto her hand, rubs it around and the reaches out.

Your dick jumps at her first touch. It’s been hard so long, you barely remember a time when it wasn’t. She runs her warm hands over its scorching length, the chill of the lube a contrast to both heats. She runs her hand up and down, enticing it to further solidity. You don’t believe it can get any harder, but it does.

She returns to the tube of lube. But this time she doesn’t squeeze it onto her hands. She squeezes it onto her breasts, concentrating on the inner surfaces. Once covered she leans down, places the two mounds of flesh either side of your shaft, and then squeezes them together. Your shaft is engulfed, in warm, soft flesh. Soft flesh that moves up and down with her motion, fully engulfed and then peeking out of the top. The lube helping the motion. You groan in satisfaction.

“Tell me when you’re close,” she whispers. And she carries on. Flesh on flesh. Eyes on eyes. She watches you. You watch her. You glance down to see your cock moving between her funbags.

It doesn’t take long. “I’m close.”

She steps away. She has a second pot of yoghurt, a much larger pot than the one she fed you. This one doesn’t have a foil lid, but a screw one. She unscrews it, to reveal a full pot, and places the lid to one side. Her right hand moves for a handjob. The left one holds the pot.

Her handjob technique is fast and furious, and your balls already close to boiling have no chance. You release with a grunt and groan. She catches each spurt in the yoghurt, pumping you until you’re dry. Squeezing the last into the pot, where your cum sits on top, a less opaque white gel compared to the fully white yoghurt. She steps away, picks up a spoon, and stirs your cum into the yoghurt.

You look at her confused. “This is my breakfast for this week,” she informs you. “So that every breakfast I’ll taste you.” She finishes stirring and places the spoon in her mouth. “Delicious. I’ll definitely enjoy breakfasts this week.” Then she finds the lid and screws it back on.

After that, she undoes the manacles and drives you into the shower. There she roughly cleans you, while you’re allowed to run the towel and your hands and the soap over her naked body, until both of you are clean. Once dry you both get dressed.

“This was a fun weekend. Shame we can’t repeat it for awhile. I’d stay here all day, but Giggsy needs my attention.”

She kisses you and then leaves you, exhausted, satisfied, exhilarated, completely lost.