Excerpt from The Song of the Whip
(Page créée avec « Extrait de / Excerpt from : ''The Song of the Whip''. “I’ll teach you to strike me!” he panted. Then he laid me across his knees and again ripped my flimsy un... »)
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[[Category:Extraits / Excerpts]]
[[Category:Extraits / Excerpts]]
Version actuelle en date du 18 mai 2019 à 13:51
Extrait de / Excerpt from : The Song of the Whip.
“I’ll teach you to strike me!” he panted.
Then he laid me across his knees and again ripped my flimsy underthings away viciously... as though he would brook no interference. There was the beast in his grasp now. There was the atavistic throwback of the caveman, seizing ahold of his mate and preparing her for a session of whipping and clubbing. Is there no wonder that I almost fainted from joy? Is there no wonder that I awaited the first downfall of that instrument of pleasure with an expectancy that I had never experienced before? And that first blow was one that I shall never forget. It was directed by a fresh arm. It was propelled by a still powerful muscle. It was impelled by a nascent desire to inflict pain which desire would grow less as the spanking proceeded. I can visualize his emotions the moment he drew the ruler away from my buttocks. He can see the angry red welt standing out in contrast against the background of shell pink. He can see the flesh of my pouting cheeks still quivering from the impact of the ruler. He can see the luscious curves of the other cheek of my bottom anxiously implore to be likewise enflamed. He can see all these things. And he can sense that the flesh quivering under his grasp and entirely subservient to his whims and desires is the flesh of a young girl whose body is his for the taking, whose lips are his for the asking, whose sole existence is his to do with as he sees fit.
Is it no wonder then that he acted as he did afterwards? For he spanked me furiously for about fifteen minutes until there was not one inch of my bottom that had not been caressed by his ruler. There was not one pore, I felt, that did not burn as if a red-hot needle had been plunged into my flesh ruthlessly. I felt as though every one of the million and one pores on my body had been pricked by a red-hot needle and that my skin was aflame with pinpoints of passion. And then, when I thought that I would expire from sheer exhaustion, he threw his ruler away and again took me into his arms where he showered me with kisses and fondled me and wept into my breasts.
With his head sunk into my chest and with my arms around him, I looked down at his curly hair and sniffed the fragrance. It went to my head like wine. My senses reeled. Everything went black and red before me. I could feel his clutching fingers exploring the intimate lovenooks of my body. I could feel his hot, burning lips kissing me on my throat and on my arms and on my eyes and lips and cheeks. After that, I knew no more. After that, I became only an animal. Mind fled into the deeps of forgetfulness. Reasons reeled away like a drunken ape. I became as like a vibrant bundle of nerves that could only feel a plethora of pleasure born of pain. I was in my element again.
Full text of The Song of the Whip with illustrations in PDF and ePub formats for sale at Biblio Curiosa Books