She was a dance teacher, and her legs were a product of the hours that she danced every day.“Turn around”, I told her. She rolled over so that I c...uld massage her back. Like a cat being pleasured, she was soon raising her hips so that her ass stuck up a little, and I knew that she was inviting me to explore her intimacy with my sensitive fingers. I ran my hand down the crack of her ass, over her little asshole and down, further, until I reached her slit which was deliciously wet. Penetrating. Other straps built in to the suit fastened him to the post as well. He couldn't move much if he wanted to. "And that lamp's hot. He must be really sweating."He certainly was. The sweat was running down the slave's face inside his hood. He comforted himself with the knowledge that it wasn't one of the worse assignments that he could have as part of the hotel fixtures. Plus, he knew that if he managed to do a good job for a year or two, there was a chance that he would get an easier job in one of. ? Pain was firing every never ending; it consumedevery thought.? I was sure I could takeno more, but I was never asked. The times Ipassed out, twice, I was awoken with a bucket of ice-cold water that hit melike a wall.? Spread there, panting,dripping, with each limited motion of my body shaking the clothespins thattortured me.? I simply whimpered andcried as she started again. The body seemedsplit in half with sensations.? My backwas a burning fire, and I could almost feel the raised welts. I tried to convince her but could not. From nowhere she asked whether she can rest her head on my shoulders. I said ok and tears running from her eyes. I wiped with my towel and asked her not to worry and things will become fine.I dropped her and came back to Chennai. This became a habit that whenever she wants to go home she will ask me to come with her just to talk. This went on for a year. One day we started traveling from her hometown to Chennai during night as our shift starts at 6 am.We.
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