By the time the rain stopped, Jasper and I knew a great deal about each other’s bodies, and my cunt had been fully acquainted with his cock on three further occasions. After the last time, he went down to the kitchen to get coffee. I lay on my stomach and drowsed until he came back, sat beside me on the bed and ran his hand over my bottom. ‘Bruises,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have started you with the strop. It’s too heavy for a novice.’ I snorted at the word ‘novice’, thinking of nuns. ‘It doesn’t hurt,’ I said, and it didn’t particularly, even when he pushed down with his thumb. I was more concerned about the fiery sting in my pussy. ‘Doesn’t it? Damn. Losing my touch. Sit up then, and have some coffee.’ I rolled over and shifted to a sitting position. Actually, when I’d said it didn’t hurt … it did. A little bit. I liked the pain, though, and would have felt disappointed with a full and swift recovery. I needed the reminder, the proof that it had actually happened.
What do You think about His House Of Submission (2012)?
