Cecile Meets The Martinet 01

Crack! The first impact strikes her bared buttocks. Cecile yelps and jerks forward across the tall padded stool she's currently bent over. A precarious position; head down, wrists secured with soft cord to a low crossbar. Cecile's legs are spread wide to maintain balance, the toes of her high-heels only just touching the floor. A full-skirted evening dress has been raised high around the woman's trim waist leaving her naked derriere exposed and vulnerable.

The tails of the martinet strike the crease between Cecile's bottom cheeks causing her hips to convulse at the smart and affording an enticing view of two ring-pieced labia. Despite, perhaps because, of her predicament Cecile looks beautiful; lustrous auburn hair, a sumptuous derriere and narrow waist combine to create an enticing vision of submissive womanhood.

This current ordeal/entertainment -- depends on one's perspective really, spanker, or spankee -- commenced some 10 minutes previously within these luxurious environs.

One cannot apply to join this Parisian club; membership is by invitation only following a comprehensive and covert vetting by those already on a coveted and exclusive list. As is customary at Le Castille a short time previously Cecile and her fellow subs had reached into an inverted top hat and randomly chosen a small envelope containing a number and brief instructions.

Entering room six, head down, hands meekly clasped in front she stood next to the stool and closed her eyes. Schooled in such rituals and instinctively knowing what to do. Minutes, perhaps five, maybe more - time seems to slow during these erotic encounters - passed as Cecile nervously fidgeted from foot to foot, silently willing proceedings to begin. The only furnishings in the windowless chamber are two wall-mounted mirrors on opposite sides and a wooden chest containing instruments of correction.

The door opened and sensing a presence behind her Cecile was unsurprised to be blindfolded with a long silk scarf and pushed firmly forward across the stool. Next her panties were pulled down with tantalising slowness to reveal a perfect peach of an arse, a bottom made to worshipped, or punished, or both. The choice wasn't hers to make; instead the mystery person spent several minutes manoeuvring Cecile into the desired stance. Which -- possibly all - of her orifices might they use when this discipline was deemed complete, Cecile wondered?

Cecile's spanker is a woman of a certain age, undeniably glamorous, familiar to those who move effortlessly within high society. Madame has chic, elfin-cropped silver hair and bounteous breasts; also wearing a formal evening gown she's clearly relishing every moments of Cecile's chastisement.

The unknown implement currently scourging the younger woman's derriere is a martinet, adroitly wielded by an experienced hand; the tails striking accurately upon Cecile's increasingly crimson streaked bottom.

A martinet, you enquire? Archetypally French it's a multi-tail whip with a short wooden handle and 8-12 leather thongs, each around 30cms long - something of a CP connoisseur's choice.

The tails strike her sensitive inner thighs, eliciting a cry from Cecile, stoking an inner fire and making her visibly wet. She dare not close her legs for fear of falling, tied hands unable to shield her bottom.

Her punisher approaches closer, leaning forward to slip their hands under her décolletage and pinch Cecile's engorged nipples. Generous breasts press against her back, an audible rustle as clothing is adjusted followed by the feel of nylon-clad legs between Cecile's bare thighs. Something stiff yet flexible nudges her labia; a strap-on perhaps - is she to be fucked by a woman?

"Merde," an exclamation of momentary frustration from behind her as Cecile's punisher struggles to find the optimum angle, then a sigh of satisfaction when she succeeds.

Slender hands hold Cecile's hips pulling the bound woman backwards onto the artificial phallus insistently pushing into her slickly accommodating pussy Whereas a man might now lustily plunder her depths this woman fucks her subtly, takes Cecile to the brink then pauses, prolonging the exquisite sensations. Both are panting, the dildo sinks deeper, assuming a greater urgency.

This is not Cecile's first rodeo, she's been fucked with a dildo before, fucked herself for that matter. Something about the sensual weight of this woman's body, the scent of her parfum and barely supressed gasps of pleasure all combine to make this particular instance exquisite. Cecile is clearly in capable hands, someone who understands the rewards of subtle intercourse - whether giving or receiving. Finally the mix of sensations overwhelms her senses, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, Cecile moans as a climactic shudder rocks her world, ecstatically surrendering to a very vocal orgasm and momentarily feeling guilty that the mystery spanker has not experienced similar joy.

Expecting to be freed Cecile hears the stranger walk to the door and admit a second person. A brief murmured greeting, heavier footsteps approach and the whipping resumes. Concentrated where thighs and bottom meet, striking already sore skin and eliciting outraged complaint. Thankfully for her burning bottom it doesn't last long.

The newcomer, Cecile senses them to be male, instead runs a finger down her arse crack, tweaking the little jewelled butt plug peaking enticingly from between her hot and stinging moons.

Apologies, was this not previously mentioned? Quelle damage. The smooth steel plug is the ultimate symbol of Cecile's complicit subjugation. When getting ready for this erotic assignation she'd deliberately decide to insert one. Carefully spreading lube onto the narrower end with a manicured finger Cecile crouched on the bed, reached back and, feeling wanton, pulled her arse cheeks wide apart. Delicately applied a little more KY to her rosebud, tried to relax then gently but insistently slid the plug inside her tight bottom hole. Wincing at the initial discomfort before sighing with pleasure as the cool sculpted shape prepares her for something larger....

That moment has arrived. Monsieur, for it is indeed a man -- tall, distinguished and, like all males present, wearing a DJ - carefully pulls the plug from Cecile's arse leaving it gaping in lewd invitation. Cautiously he eases his cock into the void; first engaging just the head he teases her anus, letting Cecile adjust to its presence before penetrating further.

"Oh my! That's so big," she whimpers.

Meanwhile the mystery female has changed ends, crouching before Cecile to free her bound wrists. They embrace, exchanging long, lingering kisses that stifle Cecile's impassioned moans as her most intimate opening is expertly shafted. The woman caresses Cecile's hair, her body, her breasts, murmuring reassurances, holding her in place as the man's ardour builds and he thrusts determinedly, the full width of his girth stretching her back passage; tight, oh so tight.

"Oh, mon dieu," Cecile's inner muscles clench around his rigid rod, "please don't stop!"

He fills her completely but hasn't fucked her arse properly quite yet. Holding her hips the mystery gentlemen withdraws his erection almost all the way out, then drives in hard. Each thrust results in a loud cry as he reams her gorgeous arsehole, buggering and sodomising.

Lost to arousal they reach a mutual crescendo, Cecile's whole body convulses, he spurts, she squirts, the walls echo to cries of pleasure and sexual release. In the confusion of limbs the blindfold momentarily shifts allowing a fleeting glimpse of her Sapphic lover. In a flash the covering is replaced, clothes are hastily adjusted, footsteps recede, and the door closes. As wetness seeps down her thighs Cecile is left satiated and alone.

Shakily she staggers to her feet, Cecile rarely losses control so completely yet feels exultant rather then shamed. Vanilla sex is good, but you can't beat (she laughs inwardly) the real thing. Adrenalin and dopamine surge around her system, this extreme stimulation is not like a drug, it is a drug.

At the last moment she remembers the plug and pops into her Dior bag prior to exiting to the salon where participants socialise before and after playing. Cecile is on a mission to reciprocate the intense pleasure her mystery female lover has been instrumental in bestowing. Who is she, does she switch? Cecile has a plan to find out.