The Belt.After about 30 strokes, her bottom had a nice glow and tingled exquisitely. She was very wet and begged Paul to make her cum but he had other things in mind. Unfastening her restraints, he turned her over and then refastened while she was on her back. Then he took out a second pair and proceeded to spread her legs far apart, fastening them to the footboard. She was confused and her heart skipped a beat when she saw that once more he picked up the belt.
"Oh my god, no!" her heart about failed, but all he said was, "Trust me?"
Hell no! Her mind screamed. "Oh, god, Paul...."once again, her legs trembling as she lay splayed, helpless. To him, it was such a precious sight. How in the world, she thought, could this turn into a good thing?
"Trust me?" he asked again. "If not, tell me. I won't do it."
A way out! But the truth was, as perplexed and horribly frightened that she was, she did trust him. She had absolutely no idea what he was about to do and honestly did not want to find out, but she could not bear to hurt him......to disappoint him by saying she did not trust him. So again she whispered, "Yes, Paul....I trust you."
He knelt on the bed between her legs, taking the tip of the belt in his hand, the edge, and ran the supple leather up and down her spread out sex. Very wet she was as he ran it back and forth over the covered little nubbin that had retreated from view, softly, until his wife's movements were in rhythm with the belt. He took the belt's end and held it to where about approximately 6 inches of it was protruding from the end of his hand and began to use the leather's flexibility to lightly slap the tiny hood, while fingers entered her, moving in and out, doing a dance on her soft, spongy spot on the inside. Pulling at the restraints, Bev was beside herself. She tried to escape the continuous slapping on such a tender body part yet at the same time, rising to meet each slap. It was already so hyper-sensitive from her first climax and quickly she climbed, higher and higher, hips rising to meet her tormentor. Cries sonorous, shudders harsh as she peaked and then tumbled under the relentless leather, thrashing best she could while held captive, fingers torturing, belt still softly slapping. The heat flowed up from her loins, through her belly, over her whole body until she was dizzy and breathless. As she quieted, Paul threw the belt aside and mounted his helpless prisoner, thrusting hard and fast, pelvis in just the right position to reactivate her hooded pleasure until she cried out with him, body racked in another good cum while he released, pulsating within her depths, then collapsed, spent, on top of her. After a time of silence, Bev spoke up.
"You know," she said. "I think I really like the belt now. As a matter of fact, I think we should use it more often."
"Oh my god, no!" her heart about failed, but all he said was, "Trust me?"
Hell no! Her mind screamed. "Oh, god, Paul...."once again, her legs trembling as she lay splayed, helpless. To him, it was such a precious sight. How in the world, she thought, could this turn into a good thing?
"Trust me?" he asked again. "If not, tell me. I won't do it."
A way out! But the truth was, as perplexed and horribly frightened that she was, she did trust him. She had absolutely no idea what he was about to do and honestly did not want to find out, but she could not bear to hurt him......to disappoint him by saying she did not trust him. So again she whispered, "Yes, Paul....I trust you."
He knelt on the bed between her legs, taking the tip of the belt in his hand, the edge, and ran the supple leather up and down her spread out sex. Very wet she was as he ran it back and forth over the covered little nubbin that had retreated from view, softly, until his wife's movements were in rhythm with the belt. He took the belt's end and held it to where about approximately 6 inches of it was protruding from the end of his hand and began to use the leather's flexibility to lightly slap the tiny hood, while fingers entered her, moving in and out, doing a dance on her soft, spongy spot on the inside. Pulling at the restraints, Bev was beside herself. She tried to escape the continuous slapping on such a tender body part yet at the same time, rising to meet each slap. It was already so hyper-sensitive from her first climax and quickly she climbed, higher and higher, hips rising to meet her tormentor. Cries sonorous, shudders harsh as she peaked and then tumbled under the relentless leather, thrashing best she could while held captive, fingers torturing, belt still softly slapping. The heat flowed up from her loins, through her belly, over her whole body until she was dizzy and breathless. As she quieted, Paul threw the belt aside and mounted his helpless prisoner, thrusting hard and fast, pelvis in just the right position to reactivate her hooded pleasure until she cried out with him, body racked in another good cum while he released, pulsating within her depths, then collapsed, spent, on top of her. After a time of silence, Bev spoke up.
"You know," she said. "I think I really like the belt now. As a matter of fact, I think we should use it more often."
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