Bound and spanked – oh yes, that's exactly how I like my l*ttle, whining toys best.

Imagine: You're lying across the spanking bench, your hands and feet strapped to your legs with thick rubber straps, your *ss sticking up in the air so that each cheek is nicely plump and useless. The cage around your useless l*ttle p*nis rattles with every twitch – and you know perfectly well that you're not going anywhere.

I'm standing behind you, in my shiny nylons and bodysuit, heels clicking slowly closer. The whip in my hand is made of thick leather, the ends already a bit worn – from all the *sses I've already made b*rn.

"Well, you l*ttle *sshole... didn't you obey again?" I let the whip glide gently over your cheeks at first, so you can feel the cold, the tension, the anticipation. Then the first bl*w – not too hard, just enough to sting and leave a red streak. You flinch, you groan, the cage rattles loudly.

"Count along, you loser. Each bl*w gets a number. And every time you count wrong, the round starts again."

One... wham! Two... wham! Three... wham!

By the time I h*t ten, your cheeks are already dark red, b*rning hot, and you're trembling all over. I step closer, pressing one of my heels into the back of your neck so your face is almost kissing the floor. "See how beautifully you're glowing? That's only half the battle. Now for the other side."

I switch to my open hand—hard, rapid slaps that cr*ck like whips. Left, right, left, right—until you're whimpering and your voice breaks. "Say it, you l*ttle sl*t: 'Thank you, Mistress, for spanking my *ss.'"

You stammer, saliva dribbling from the corner of your mouth, and I just laugh softly as I run my fingernails over the hot, red marks—lightly scratching, just enough to make it b*rn even more.

You whimper, and I lightly kick the cage: "Good boy. Again tomorrow. And then it'll be even harder."

You belong to me. Bound. Spanked. Broken. And you'll come back tomorrow—because you can't help it.

Spanking F/m Whipping Spanking Bound and spanked with C4s.com