Radiating like lightning from a summer sky, fiery nerves flashed from beneath her hand to my hips, to places I never felt when around her before. The wetness. Oh my, the wetness. I excused myself again. I was extremely aroused and I wondered if she even knew why I had been going to the restroom so much. She never said a word the entire time. Still, I had become addicted to her touch, so I returned to the couch. This time I found out whether or not she was being friendly or something more. She began to untie the drawstring on my sweatpants. I quickly put my hand on top of hers. Without a word, there was an understanding. I was afraid. This was unexpected and new, though obviously not unwelcome. My hand still atop hers, she slowly moved her hand downward. I let my hand slide off of her hand. She rested her hand on my pubic bone on top of my pants. Then she moved it, as if to smooth the fabric on that one mound. I raised my hips. She moved her hand faster. I trembled, but was in. This time it felt harder. Helen began to flinch at each stroke. This lasted longer than the other, too. The dominatrix went back to her left breast, and alternated her whipping back and forth from one breast to the other for a good twenty minutes. Helen had never felt such pain. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she was sweating profusely. Just when she felt she could take no more, the woman stopped. Helen had dribbled from the gag quite a lot, over her chin and in between her breasts. The woman untied the gag and licked Helen’s saliva from her burning flesh. She then kissed Helen deeply. Whilst it would not be true to say that Helen had never been so excited, it was true that she had never before been excited in this way. Though her body still stung from her whipping, she would not have left that place even if she could have whisked herself magically away in a second. She wanted to be nowhere else. The dominatrix relented to the point that she took a glass of cool wine and.
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