I spat out a load of salty, whitish gunk but had to keep spitting as it stuck to my mouth. Finally, eyes watering, I got the chance to catch a breath....That was a dream come true." Came the boy's voice. I looked up through a cloud of hair to see myself standing above me. I got to my feet carefully as I tottered on my heels and brushed the hair aside tolook at myself. I looked down to see the tops of my tits mostly covered by red, which fit my curves, and flats, like a glove. I put a hand over my. He lives thousands of miles away, but He marks my body nearly everyday. I am His canvas, His muse. He demands twenty spanks on the right ass cheek, I inflict the contact at his command. His voice, my hand, his marks. My body is His. My holes are His. He is my everything. The taboo world of bdsm and D/s relationships has been glinted at in mainstream literature. In the early 50’s, a woman hid behind a pen name and gave us “The Story of O”. And it was this intriguing tale that brought me into the. More

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