Sgt. Major and Lola

Lola walks in like she owns the room. Then Sgt. Major takes the floor. She learns fast that getting topped can mean ropes instead of fingers. He bends her forward, knees spread, wrists yanked tight to her ankles. A fat red ball gag splits her mouth and she drools when he cracks the cane across her ass. Each stripe pulls a muffled yelp, each yelp pulls another stripe. He switches to a thick flogger; the thud makes her back arch, tits swinging. She strains against the ropes, shoulders burning, but her hips keep rolling like they want more. He leaves the flogger hanging, shoves two fingers inside, twists, and she comes fast, thighs shaking. He gives her no time to catch her breath. Next he folds her onto her side, ankle tied to thigh, other ankle lashed to a ring above her head. The vibrator touches her clit and she jerks like she’s been shocked. He holds it there, cruel and steady, until her second orgasm tears through her and the gag barely keeps her screams inside. A third comes with her on her back, legs frog-tied, arms stretched to the corners. By the time he unties her she’s glassy-eyed and grinning. 2005. Brunette, bound, used, grateful.