Free Dutch Porn Pics

She's shared by two men and loves it.

First of all we went to Aunt Hilda's house and I introduced him as a friend who was going to store some bits and pieces for me for a little while. Accepting as always, Aunt Hilda welcomed him in and made us tea and some of her ubiquitous seed-cake, whilst we carried my books and toys down to the car.

When we had got to Philip's house and spent a little time with his Mum, we went upstairs and unpacked my goods. Philip whistled when he read the titles of my books, and turned and grinned at me. For some reason I blushed. Then he unpacked my toys and laid them out on his low, spindle-legged coffee table.

"I've never really tried any of them - I just had to buy them and I take them out and look at them sometimes. The tawse was what I bought first, and it's my favourite. I sometimes used to take it to bed with me at Auntie Hilda's and cuddle it - crazy isn't it?"

"Would you like to try them out?"

I said yes please, rather vacuously, as if I were being offered another slice of seedcake. My mouth had gone totally dry and my forehead beaded with sweat. At last it was going to happen.

Take off your clothes, and come here. I shall put the handcuffs and blindfold on you, then we'll try them out, one after the other."

I stripped off my clothes, folded them over a chair, and tidied my hair in front of the mirror. My little, round, pink-nippled tits jiggled nicely as I brushed my hair, and I knew Philip was looking at my bottom.

Soon he would be giving it some real attention.

I turned around and looked straight at Philip, posing for him, knees bent slightly, keeping my thighs tightly hiding my crotch, like the nude pictures in Lilliput and Men Only. I could see he approved. I walked over to the coffee-table and stood there quietly and waited for him to blindfold and handcuff me.

Of course I had put on the blindfold and the handcuffs before, but not both together. Having them put on me by somebody else had an oddly chilling effect. I felt more then a bit frightened. I trusted Philip completely, but totally relinquishing control made great inroads into my sense of security.

He led me over to the settee, and positioned me there, bottom sticking out knees on the slightly abrasive moquette cushion, and hands holding the back of the settee. I clung on tightly and waited.

"Try to guess which of your toys I am using on your bottom. I'll give you four strokes with each. Every one you guess wrong earns you two more strokes, so concentrate."

The first one was easy. A sort of fipping swish, a burn like fire across my bum that seemed more intense a few second later than when it landed - the riding crop!

"The cane." I called out triumphantly.

"Don't go off half-cocked," said Philip, "there's three more to come."

Three more cracks as the implement - the crop, I'm sure it was the crop - bit into my tender flesh. My whole bum was on fire for a moment or two, then it settled into a hot glow. Philip loosened the handcuffs whilst I felt my bum. It was ridged and furrowed like a midlands landscape.

He cuffed me again.

"Ready for the next one?"

"To hear is to obey, O Pasha". I joked.

The next one landed with a thump that threw me forward. My breath was knocked away for a moment, and the pain was bruising and deep.

"The tawse! My lovely tawse." I shouted. In my I was thrown back into my days at junior school, taking a test and determined to come top of the class.

Three more fierce, thudding, fiery pains as the implement - yes, the tawse - it must be the tawse - seared my flesh. Then it was over.

"Ready for the next one?" he asked again.

"Just a moment please, let me give it a rub." Again he took off the handcuffs to allow me to massage my sore bum. I was asking myself, 'How can something so painful give me such joy?' I found myself giggling as I took up my position and took hold of the back of the sofa and stuck my bottom out again.

Oh God, this is the riding crop - the first one must have been the cane.

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