Leather’s Kiss (The Full Story) - Sex Stories

Leather’s Kiss (The Full Story)

... between his fingers before bringing them to his nose for several audible sniffs. He released a laborious exhalation, then lowered my dress back over my bottom.

“That’s all for today.” He unbound my hands.

I said nothing — couldn’t if I tried with my emotions balled up in my throat — as he walked me to the door, ushering me away with, “I’ll see you next week.”

I’d never felt so hollow. I was no longer a person but a void, a blank. I existed, barely, somewhere deep behind my eyes, floating, emotionless, watching myself unlock my car and drive home as though it was a low-fi movie.

That movie abruptly ended as I closed my front door. A wave of burning emotion jolted me back into my body.

“Fuck you! You, FUCK!”

Then, the angry tears flowed. Spinning in humiliation and frustration, I flipped between directing my emotions toward him and against myself. But it had to be me.What was it about me?Was I just a desperate, stupid fantasist? Why did I ever believe I was worthy of his punishment?

My skin ran hot and cold. I ransacked my wardrobe in search of my father’s old belt. It was one of the few things of his that I’d kept. I found it curled into a small box, its brass buckle dulled by neglect.

Pulling my dress up to expose my naked loins, I pitched myself across the end of my bed, gathering my duvet beneath my crotch to force my sorry, abandoned ass into the air. Then, I swung the belt as hard as I could.

My screams sounded empty. They weren’t screams of a ...

... beating; they were screams of frustration. My self-belting was hopeless. The painful blows it landed weren’t physical. It was my pathetic abandonment, my empty frustration, that hit me with each limp, lop-sided strike of the belt.

And that frustration had its epicenter: my sobbing pussy.

Throwing the belt to the floor, I spanked my cheeks with one hand while working my clit with the other, masturbating to the rhythm of my own deep, desperate sobs. After an edgy, buzzing orgasm, I slid to the floor at the foot of my bed, curled into a shivering ball, my disappointed ass naked but unseen.

I was almost desolate. Almost.

“I’ll see you next week — I’ll see you next week — I’ll see you next week.”

Replaying those words in my head on a loop, I tried to burn his clipped English vowels into my brain. It was the darker timbre of his English dialect: cold comfort. But I clung to it like a newborn baby.

~O~

Thursday, February 15

I shifted from foot to foot. Wrung my hands. Shivered.

When he opened the door, I begged. “Please don’t send me away!”

I was desperate and would agree to anything at that point as long as he didn’t reject me again.

He grabbed my chin and thrust my head back, leaning forward until our noses touched. His eyes searched mine. I did not attempt to avert my gaze and had no hope of hiding my emotions. Tears pooled in my eyes. Finally, he released me.

“There it is.”

His tone was soft and disarming.

He wasted no time, leading me by ...