A really nice account here of Zille deFeu’s first birching, which she greatly enjoyed:
Over the side of the bed I went, and the first birch rod was taken to my backside. He pulled down my gym shorts, first, and I though, “Oh fuck, am I in trouble!” And I waited for the first blow, not having the slightest notion what kind of pain I was in for.
Well, the first blow hit, and you know what – I love birching! That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, obviously, but it was a totally bearable, really exciting pain! If my mouth had not been gagged I might have accidentally burbled, “Ooooh! Hit me again!” Of course he did, anyway. Thirty strokes later, he let me have a breather.
I didn’t want no breather! More, more, more! He said, “I think five more will do …” because he couldn’t tell where I was at, due to being gagged and masked. I shook my head and held out my hand, and then opened and closed it six times. He got the message of “Thirty more, please!” and he went for the other birch rod!
As mumbojumble had said, the thicker rods were quite different from the thinnest ones. Not harder to take, the thin ones were certain the worst, but an excellent mix of stingy-thuddy. I loved every second of the next thirty, even when I started moaning in pain.
He sat down beside me, letting me have another breather. I don’t remember what he said that would have let me have an “out” if it was all too much, but I reached back with my hand, and with my finger drew “90” on his leg.
Of course, my Master is a man who believes in rounded numbers, so I got 100 total!
For the last twenty, he had me kneel between his legs, head pressed against his rock-hard cock, and he reached down and hit me with vertical strokes. Oh! Those stung! And got me to this crest of the wave of pain – where the pain was this thing of beauty, and I could barely breath for the perfection of it. (Yes, I was quite high on endorphins. But that’s how it felt!!!)
She has also posted pictures that are really authentic and hot, although sadly she’s got her watermark slathered right across the middles of a couple of them, which destroys much of their attraction. Why do people disfigure their own art? I’ll never understand that.
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