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The Adventures of Sir, Sweetheart and Mr. Purple, Part Eight

While Sir and the Southern Gentleman essentially sat and discussed what they wanted to do to me, I got a little antsy. I pouted and shook my head, attempting to loosen the buckle on the bit gag. Sir took hold of my chin and asked me what was wrong.

“I want to talk to him,” I spat around the gag in a garbled mess.

Sir smirked and looked over to SG, “do you want to hear what she has to say?”

“No,” he replied, “not really. I just want to look at her.”

Despite how much I enjoyed this condescension, I managed to work the gag loose. It fell into my lap, slick and wet. Sir went to put it back in, but I shook my head and looked at SG. The two were discussing what they’d like to do, and I figured I’d add my side as well.

“I want you to use my cunt,” I said, barely able to get the words out, “I want you to fuck me while he holds me and makes me be good for you. I want to serve both of you.”

(I had, of course, assumed I’d just be gagged right up if I started with saying I wanted both of them to go down on me at once. So, I figured I’d start on a high note.)

Sir pulled me up to my feet and had me turn around and show SG my ass. “Why don’t you show him what he’s getting.”

“He knows what he’s getting,” I retorted, feeling a little saucy. Sir slipped two fingers into my cunt and I gasped, nearly losing my balance.

“Is she tight?” SG asked and I rolled my eyes. He and Sir were playing into that whole mutual slave auction fantasy they have (which, okay, I have, too) and I was feeling super exposed and blushy about the whole ordeal.

Sir noticed me squirming and moaning – caught somewhere between discomfort and pain – and laughed. “She’s so tight she’s a little sore from having just been fucked.” I blushed.

“Does she take pain well?” SG asked.

“You want to see?” Sir offered with a smirk and tipped me forward so I was bent over the couch, my head and chest resting against the seat.

I huffed. “He already knows!” I protested, but I was left to wait as Sir walked into the other room, forced to imagine what he’d decide to return with.

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Some girls are functional and make great little footstools,

and some girls excel on their knees,

but some girls are best when they’re just made to look pretty.

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So what do I have to do to fall asleep in a pretty girl’s bed every morning tied up like this 

and then wake up to her stretching and smiling and debating letting me out

only to get all tied back up that night?

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The white is so, so pretty.

But those marks look so, so owie.

And yet I kind of want to try both?

daggerandplume:

White Leather

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Daddy and I have a little plan to remedy the fact that I’ve never felt a real hitachi

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I like getting used in the afternoon.

With the pretty sun shining in

and the mood easy and unassuming.

I feel braver.

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So, I might have a little surprise planned for him today.

Shhh.

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Today is going to be absolutely nuts and I’ll be running around nonstop from now until about 9:30 PM.

In addition to doing some schmoozing/networking which just blarg. I hate contrived conversations like that.

But I get some of this in two days and I’m so exciiiiited.

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Being a Brave Girl, Part Four

While I was still pouting and squirming, Sir grabbed his riding crop and strode back over to me. He rolled me over onto my stomach and eased my ass into the air.

“Aww, did you want to cum?” He teased as he started to beat my ass with the crop.

“Yes,” I whined.

He moved the crop over my thighs and feet. With relish, he delivered a series of sharp blows onto my cunt, a few even hitting straight on my clit. I squealed, sucking in deep breath between each smack and bracing myself to take the pain.

After he had successfully reddened my ass and made my pussylips sore and tender, Sir rolled me back over and slipped his cock deep inside of me.

“Beg me when you need to cum, girl,” he ordered.

It wasn’t long before I was begging.

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I could spend an afternoon like this.

Or two.

Or five.

Or a couple of weeks.