It was a simple arrangement. He was a popular man; he had many girls to play with. If she wanted his attention, she would have to be more interesting than those other girls. He’d set her a rule – each play session she’d suggest a more painful or humiliating abuse for him to perform on her than the time before.
It was months ago that she’d first volunteered to have her fat tits painfully caned. It had left her crying, in that space between pure agony and the blissful satisfaction of having pleased him. Yesterday she had come up with the idea of having them caned while balanced on a narrow surface. Every blow of the cane would not just welt the top of her titflesh, but drive her udders into the narrow support below them.
Now she sat topless, her tits supported only by the thin wooden back of the chair she was straddling. This was already more uncomfortable than she had anticipated. She wanted to move. He was getting out the cane. She started to whimper, even as she felt her pussy spasming with anticipation and desire…
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