Mouth Soaping And Bondage Sex

I know some of you have a mouthsoaping fetish, as a sort of ancillary punishment that goes along with spankings. While, here (discovered via Bondage Blog) is a kinky story that includes a poor girl who gets a harsh riding crop spanking while forced to hold a bar of soap in her mouth (because she forgot the speaking rules of her roleplay) and then gets a lengthy ravishment before she’s allowed to remove it:

“Reach behind you and pull up the hem of your skirt.”

He stood beside her, the shaft of the crop resting horizontally against her defenseless flesh.

“Let’s review. You spoke without permission, and used English. Correct?”

He prompted her to reply with a fast swat.

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Did you climax just then?”

Crack.

“Oui, monsieur.”

“That makes a total of seven this afternoon. Correct?”

Crack.

“Oui, monsieur.”

“How many were you supposed to have?”

Crack.

“Vignt, monsieur.”

“Correct. That leaves 13.”

“Oui…”

Crack.

“I didn’t ask you a question, Yvette.”

He rolled his eyes. So much to learn.

She stared straight ahead as he stood next to her in silence, her face unable to mask the looming sense of dread.

After a few moments, he went to the bathroom and retrieved a new bar of soap.

“This is for using vulgarity in my presence.”

He unwrapped it slowly in front of her.

“Open your mouth.”

Her eyes grew wide as he pushed it between her teeth.

“Bend over.”

He allowed the silence to crush all hope of a reprieve out of the room, then reached between her legs to remove the still-buzzing vibrator.

“Thirteen missed orgasms. Times two transgressions. That totals 26.”

A moment passed before the crop whistled.

As he progressed, his rhythm became maddeningly inconsistent in terms of both timing and aim.

But zebras wished they boasted such stripes.

“Straighten up.”

Feeling flush, he walked back to his armchair to better observe her glowing backside.

After a moment of appreciation, the familiar sensation of blood engorging demanded his full attention.

“Come to me.”

She turned and approached the chair, her fingers remaining clutched obediently around the hem of her dress.

“Turn around.”

He slipped off his pants, opened his legs and placed his hands around her hips.

She tottered uneasily on her heels as he pulled her back and guided her over his lap.

“Put your hands on the arms of the chair.”

Her sex pulsed hot and slippery against the tip of his cock.

“Down,” he commanded unnecessarily.

A nudge with his thighs was all it took for her to begin raising and lowering herself while his hands found their way around her to her still-clamped breasts.

Her pace quickened as he fondled and kneaded her bosom, giving an occasional tug to the chain from which still hung the toothbrush.

A low moan escaped the bar of soap.

His fingers were unrelenting as she practically bounced off his groin, each thrust penetrating her deeper than the one previous.

He felt her heart thrashing like speedmetal drums as they approached what appeared to be a mutually-beneficial resolution.

At the first sign of his own release, he pinched open the clamps and let them fall noisily to the floor.

He had to put his arms around her waist to keep her from falling forward.

Sweating profusely, Yvette shuddered hard when his hand slipped down and grazed against the top of her elegant fur.

No, he reprimanded myself.

*** Later ***

Much, much later.

“Up.”

He helped her off his lap and held her steady until he was confident she wouldn’t topple over like a tree that’s had quite enough of the chainsaw.

“It’s time to put that soap to its proper use. Undress, shower and return to me in 10 minutes.”

The story is called Dismaid by Adrian Hunter.

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