Bobbi Starr, Lily LaBeau #fuckingslapped
She thought participating in their study would be a quick way to earn some easy money. She might be helping people, she thought. She might even learn something.
She’s certainly learned that this is what happens when you don’t read the consent form.
A lot of the time, it’s ambition that keeps me going. I don’t particularly like the pain, but I love bragging that I endured it.
“I wish you wouldn’t hit me so hard,” I whined. “I need to build my tolerance back up.”
“Baby,” Pup said. “How do you think you build a tolerance?”
Not gonna lie, sometimes I consider what it might be like to take out my piercings so I can get my breasts really slapped or beaten again.
And before someone’s like “oh just do it with your piercings in:” no. NO. Pup accidentally slapped one of my breasts once because I was playing bratty and tried to move away from him slapping my face. The result was this almost comically high-velocity spray of blood and SO MUCH PAIN. Pup had to patch me up and put a bandaid on it while I whined.
So no, I’m not getting my breasts slapped with my piercings in. Though sometimes I totally think about taking them out for it.
I want some bruises that I’ll have to fuss about hiding.
I’d never met Sophie before, so the idea of going to a play party with her and Sir made me pretty nervous as a first encounter with her. When the party got cancelled just an hour before we were going to leave and we all decided to just have a lazy night in, I can’t say I was disappointed.
I’m honestly a pretty shy person. I know that seems ironic for the stories I tell and the things I get into, but half of it is overcompensation and half of it is that being a pervert/libertine/what have you and being shy aren’t mutually exclusive. But meeting Sophie, the girl Sir had been dating and playing with for the past few months, was intimidating.
She offered to cook us dinner at Sir’s house, which I thought was sweet, and soon she had arrived with a bag full of groceries. It was December, just before the holidays. We put on our coats and took a walk through the park, looking at lights and watching our breath until we got hungry.
Sir had me strip down and sit on the kitchen floor while Sophie cooked, and I was unbelievably bashful about the whole thing. I basically curled into a ball and hid under the table, staying that way while they ate above me.
After dinner, Sir put down a mattress in the living room. He gave me one of his riding crops and took another for himself, asking if I wanted to beat Sophie with him. I was a little envious of her: not only was she a masochist, but she bruised so easily. I love bruises, but I reeeeally don’t like pain.
At one point, he had me sit on Sophie’s face while he beat her. “You need to work harder,” I scolded whenever she stopped licking to wince. My eyes met Sir’s and I looked for some sign of approval for my little mean streak. He was smiling.
Then, he had us switch positions and fucked me while I licked her pussy until I came so hard I fell asleep. I woke to Sophie sucking Sir’s cock, his fingers tangled in the curls of her hair. Snuggling up, I watched her finish him and swallow his cum.
I love the contrast of that long, gentle stroke with all the harsh metal.
@rileyshy @jamesdeen
This is absolutely one of my favorite James Deen videos. He’s so condescending in it.
Whipping Post, Part Three
“I’m not going to fuck you yet,” Pup replied. “You’re disgusting, you know that?” He reached between my legs and rubbed my pussy through the gusset of the bodysuit I was wearing. “You’re a disgusting whore and I’m going to have to fix you. I’m going to make you a good girl.”
I leaned back against him as best as I could. “Yes, Sir.”
He shoved me forward against the post. “Do you know how I’m going to make you a good girl?”
“I don’t know, Sir,” I said. He hit me with the belt again, hard. “I said I don’t know,” I repeated.
Pup kept hitting me. “Come on, take a guess. How do you make someone a good girl?”
I cried out as he delivered a few more rough blows. “I…I don’t know. You hurt them?” He kept hitting me and I kept guessing. I don’t even remember what I’d said or even what the answer was. But I remember that when he finally stopped and told me, I was both in incredible pain and really, really turned on. I think I’d been crying, and there was a sheen of sweat on my forehead when I looked at myself in the mirror.
“If you can take ten hits from my belt and hold perfectly still and stay quiet, I’ll fuck you,” Pup said while I composed myself. He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. He went right for the back of my calves, and he got in maybe three hits before I flinched away and cried out. I rested my head against the post and let out a long whine when he told me that we were going to keep going until I got ten. He started over, putting in a few hits on my legs before moving to my upper arm. I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing any attempt at making noise under deep breaths. This time, I managed.
“Good girl,” Pup said and smoothed my hair back. I wanted to be a little defiant, thinking I’d earned it from succeeding, but instead I ended up pressing my head against him until he moved to untie me from the post. I stumbled off of it, Pup steadying me for a moment as I got my bearings. My skin felt electric with pain, my mind both keen and hazy with the weird, blurred alertness that comes with endorphins.
Giving me a shove out of the play area, Pup told me to go get a drink of water and a condom.
source: youtube
