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She smiled more wickedly than ever as she raised the rattan and brought it home for the first time. I cried out in pain as the vicious sting of the cane warped through my body; my arse felt like it was on fire. Elaine showed no mercy whatsoever as she worked her elegant and dominant body in an athletic arc as the cane was brought whooshing down again and again; the crack it made as it left it red lines across my arse encouraging pleased smiles and taunts from the delighted women, as they helped themselves to many more pictures. Elaine smiled even more contentedly as I began to weep like a c***d; such was the pain of my mistress’s deliveries.After twelve strokes, I cried like a baby, after fifteen my arse seemed to go a little numb and I noted the wicked satisfaction on the faces of the smiling women, after eighteen the squirming induced by the cane had my cock fully erect beneath me as I watched my dominant mistress work her way to breaking me. I could not quite believe it but. She was pushed up against the side of the kitchen table and he shoved most of the dishes out of the way, suddenly pushing her chest down against the top of the table."Don't say anything!" he hissed as he felt her muscles tightening in fear. He moved behind her, pulled her trembling white buns apart with one powerful and determined hand, and then proceeded to shove the stick of soft melting butter right up against her pink and puckered fundament."Oh God no, no don't!" she moaned the instant she felt the greasy butter being rubbed into her asshole, completely lubricating her bum furrow and the folds and creases which marked her tight little anus."Don't what?" he snickered, actually succeeding in shoving half of the stick of butter right up her ass. The idea, the very notion of buttering her poop and then slamming his cock into place, delighted him to no end. He saw his pecker as an ear of corn; soon to be buttered as it slid back and forth inside the tight lubricated depths of her.
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Wayne greeted me with a drink in one hand, shoeless and dressed in trousers and a silk robe belted at the waist, with a mass of black curly chest hair showing where his robe parted. Seeing him in daylight, I guessed him to be in his early fifties. Waving me inside, he closed the door, and then led the way through to the lounge, asking if I wanted a drink. Back then I was drinking bourbon and cola, but the drink he poured me was so strong it that I almost choked on it. He laughed, urging me to drink it down, telling me that horny young guys like me were often too quick on the trigger, and a strong drink would both put me in the mood and help make things last. As we drank our drinks I asked if he lived alone, and when he told me he was married, he anticipated my unasked question, explaining that he had told his wife he was entertaining a friend that afternoon and wanted the house to himself, adding that they had an agreement on these matters and that she wouldn’t be home until the.

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