Staying With Erin - Chapter 8 - Sex Stories

Staying With Erin - Chapter 8

The ropes in which I hung allowed only for the slightest hint of dangling movement, but to me, in my excited state, it felt like the whole world was rocking back and forth. I swallowed hard, my eyes alternating between the wicked looking riding crop in Mrs. Somerset’s hand that would swing forward and hit my unprotected body any minute now, and my friend Erin in her gleaming red rubber suit, kneeling between our future teacher’s splayed legs and waiting for the signal to attack her pussy. Bridget stood a little too the side, a stop watch she had procured from god knows where in her hand, the other arm once again wrapped around Elaine and her fingers busy underneath the lean woman’s bikini panties. Mrs. Somerset’s free hand caressed Erin’s head, then suddenly her fingers buried themselves in her short hair. “Ready?” Bridget asked, her voice breathless with impatience. Mrs. Somerset nodded, flexing her fingers. “Go!” The next moment was a blur. Before I could even properly brace myself for the first touch of the leather flap, Mrs. Somerset had swung it upward while pushing Erin’s head between her legs. A sharp, hot pain shot through the inside of my thigh, a hand’s width above my knee, driving all breath from my lungs. At the same time, Erin’s mouth started to feast on the older woman’s pussy, and a glazed look came over her eyes. I shrieked. Erin’s head dipped, then slowly tilted back up, giving a long, wet lick to the pussy in front of her, and the crop snapped upwards ...

... again, hitting my thigh just an inch higher with a sharp, slapping sound. My breath hitched and I groaned in pain, and I couldn’t stop my body from wiggling in my bonds, little leeway that they left me. Slap. Again a little higher. My legs started to tremble and my eyes grew moist when the wicked sting set my skin ablaze. Snap. I yelped. Erin’s head started to bob up and down. Fire seemed to dance on my thighs and Mrs. Somerset’s lips parted in a delighted pout. God, this was wicked, and even more wicked was the sensation in my loins, where the arousal from earlier was kindled awake again with each painful swat of the riding crop. Snap. Snap. Snap. My head tilted back in a silent, breathless scream, but the closer the hits got to my pussy, the higher my arousal went. Splat. I jerked. The crop had hit just an inch from the top of my pussy-honey covered thigh. “Oh god, yes!” I groaned, but the next swat didn’t fall where I had anticipated it, didn’t land its devastating sting on my bared, greedy snatch. She had started on my other thigh and given me time to breathe. Her cheeks were flustered and her thighs trembled, but her fingers didn’t waver a millimeter while she lay swat after swat up my thigh. I rocked in the ropes with every hit, and both thighs prickled with heat. I wanted someone, something - in fact, anything - to touch my pussy and quench the need that was building up so decadently. “Please,” I whimpered between pained gasps, “I need to cum!” Another swat landed close to ...