It was the innocent ones who had the most to hide (audio) (Patreon)

She never came into this so willing. It was the innocent ones who had the most to hide and so it went with that first evening of sake and sushi in the financial district. We had laughs, we had giggles, we talked college, we talked life but her eyes betrayed her. The first caresses of my head as I whispered my intentions in her ears told me everything. Its those subtle cues that get me going, the nail digs, the change in her tone, the breathy requests in my ear.

I had to guide her, train her and bring out all the animalistic instincts. It never came naturally to her, from a conservative culture where such things were kept hushed for fear of letting the genie out of the bottle.

The little sessions in the Tokyo skyline were what she looked forward to most week in and week out after her shifts at the Mitsubishi bank, shimmers of blue cascading across our moody room and her on all fours waiting to receive her due punishments. We’d book the room for the night. ‘Do not interrupt’ hung outside.

I’d strip her down, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, it was my pleasure, I’d do what the fuck I wanted to. Peeling her panties first, dragging them down to her ankles and letting her step out of them as I wrapped the silk scarf around her eyes. There was never a time she wasn’t even a little moist, a trickle of excitement spilling onto my fingers which I teased into her mouth, letting her tongue wrap around my fingers like a coiled python.

Pure bliss, her shallow breaths trailing through the air, as I’d stand with my belt by my side. The first smack would always catch her off guard, just as she had unclenched her cheeks thinking I was distracted. A taut ripple across her toned backside, the first rips and spreading of a beautiful pink across her, a warm up for the rigorous touches I was going to give her. Of course, came the wiggling, the little pants as another little drip of pleasure fell onto the bed, the meek struggle as she tried to protest her Master doing what needed to be done.

“Count with me or I’m getting the belt early.”

Another crack, just inches from her delicate flower, she was so easily bruised, so easily turned on down there, her bottom left red raw so quickly. A sharp cry leaves her. These were her sexiest moments, basking in submission, begging to be washed in my ways, what I loved doing to her backside. Leaving them bruised and marked with my thick palms, looking in the mirror days afterwards and remembering just how good she was for me, on my lap and on my bed.