You here him pick up something from the bed and smile when you hear the lash hiss through the air in the split second before you feel its sting on you... thighs. You’re impressed that he began with your thighs, which is where you hoped he begin. He’s very intuitive, indeed. Most men would have begun with your breasts, an all too tempting target. He strikes you again, then again, then again and you picture him admiring his handiwork as he does, painting your thighs with lash markers, making them. Apparently I can't quite conceal my exitement to finally meet, and have you submit to me either..."Hello Cumslut", I say as your rise to great me with a hug. I see your cheek become red almost immediately, as you see some of those closest to the table turn and look at you, not sure if they heard what I called you or not. As I get a hug from your tight, well-trained little body, I can feel your tension and nervousness, but I can also smell you... Not your perfume. Your scent... I let go of the. More

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