Suffer And Cum

Melissa Stratton gets hogtied on the floor. The Pope is quick with the flogger across her tits. He slaps and stripes the flesh, then trades the leather for the vibrator and the crop. Each stroke makes her nipples throb; each buzzing press between her legs pulls a wet moan from her throat. Drool slides down her chin as she comes hard, hips twitching against the rope. Blindfolded now, she feels his fingers push inside her. One, two, three. He fucks her on the spot until the next orgasm knocks through her like a wave. When she stops shaking he puts her on hands and knees. Rope binds her wrists and ankles tight. He swings the flogger at her ass, then grabs her foot and starts the bastinado. The sting on the soles turns to fire on the thighs. He prods her arch with a knitting needle, rolls the pinwheel over each toe. Melissa laughs through clenched teeth, the pain sharp, filthy, and wanted. The stick slides inside her. The Hitachi hums. She climaxes again, again, until the count is lost in the air. Laid out flat, spread eagle on cold concrete, her chest becomes a bed of clothespins. The flogger snaps across every plastic tip, shooting pain straight to her cunt. He brushes them off in one swipe, then drives fingers and vibe together, palm over her mouth, until her body seizes and she drowns in the flood. Last mark comes from the sole of his boot. He plants it on her sternum, grinds it in, then steps away. She stays on the floor, covered in welts, sweat, and the print of his tread, breathing like she just survived a fight she started on purpose.