“This is not a punishment, but a game. As with any game, there are rewards and, well, for lack of a better word, consequences. Do you want to play?”
I do, Sir.
“Good. I’ve hidden envelopes throughout the house. You find them, one at a time, and bring them to me. Each envelope is labeled Pleasure or Pain. You may decided to open it or not, but if you open it, whatever is written will be done. Still want to play?”
Of course, Sir.
Duh!! The first envelope was labelled Pleasure. I eagerly handed it over to Sir then agreed to open it. cunnlingus. He walked me to the bedroom, knelt before me and went to work. His hot, hard tongue lapping up my juices, flicking my clit until I twitched and trembled in pure delight. After a while, I was begging him for mercy. I’d lost track of how many times I’d orgasmed. Finally, he pulled back, laughed and held out his hand.
“Go find the next envelope.”
A thought came into my mind. Sir, how many envelopes are there?
“Ten. Divided equally between pain and pleasure. We will not stop until you’ve found all ten.”
I began to understand that this game would not be over anytime soon and that by the time it was, I’d be exhausted. I grinned and quickly found the second envelope. Pain. I handed it to him and said to open it. 10 spankings with a wooden spoon. Sir had me lie on the couch, positioned me as he chose for optimum bare ass exposure, then reached on a nearby shelf for a spoon. Now I realized that Sir, naturally, had planned this game very carefully. Without preamble, he alternated smacks to my bottom with the wide bowl of the spoon. I was howling by the time he finished.
Envelope number 3 was Pain again. Clothespins. I looked at him, confused. Then he told me to take off my blouse and bra. Suddenly, I understood. Ten minutes I stood before him, my nipples clamped in the pins. Then, he told me to go find number 4. I had expected to be freed of the pins, but no such luck. Number 4 was Pleasure – Fellatio. I knelt before him, unzipped his trousers, and got to work. I must admit, I don’t understand women who don’t like this. The taste of his pre cum, so sweet and clear. The softness of his skin. The hardness of his muscle. There is nothing her that I don’t love. I massaged his testicles and felt them tighten and knew he was close. He reached down, flicked the clothespins, then pulled them both off. I screamed as the blood rushed back into them, but the scream was swallowed along with his cum. He sat down heavily on the couch, smiled at me, then told me to find number 5. Pain. Sir didn’t even bother to ask if I wanted to open it or not. We both knew I did. Wax.
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