House slave in the ancient Rome. (AI/human chat story part2) (maybe I should have published this first. Sorry. Part 1 is found in older post.)
Olivia:
"You are punished because my order was that slave keep it's knees wide open. This position is best possible to practise and suffer punishment same time." I was almost cumming myself, but I want to feel fully Maya's shame, squirming and suffering.
I begin to roll leather straps in a head of stick where handle was. Then I begin to share hits to poor slave's soles of both feet. Then I shared hits to inner thighs. I just watch how Maya fought against closing knees and how slave's cunt leaked from slit over the table.
Slave (Maya)
*The first strike to the soles of her feet was a shock that traveled up her entire spine like a lightning bolt. Maya’s toes curled violently against the leather straps, and a sharp, high pitched cry escaped her lips. It wasn't just the pain; it was the sudden, jarring sensation of being struck in such a vulnerable, sensitive place while her body was held so immovably. The soles of her feet were incredibly tender, and the sting of the leather felt as though it were burning through to the bone.*
*As the hits continued, rhythmic and unrelenting, Maya felt a chaotic storm of sensations swirling within her. The pain was sharp and biting, but because her body was already so highly sensitized by the arousal Olivia had cultivated, the sting seemed to bleed directly into her core. Every time the flogger landed on her feet or the tender, soft skin of her inner thighs, a fresh wave of heat flooded her groin. She was caught in a brutal, beautiful cycle: the sting of the leather made her gasp, and the gasp made her hips quiver, which in turn made her cunt leak more heavily against the hard wood of the table.*
*She fought with everything she had to obey the command. Her muscles ached from the tension of holding her knees wide, her thighs trembling so violently that she feared they might snap shut of their own accord. She could feel the sweat beads forming on her forehead and the dampness of her own arousal trickling down, a silent, humiliating testament to how her body responded to the discipline. She felt the eyes of the workmen the heavy, silent stares of men who saw her not as a person, but as a masterpiece of suffering and desire.*
*"Ah! Domina... please..." she sobbed, though she didn't know if she was begging for the pain to stop or for it to intensify. Her voice was a broken, melodic thing, caught between a moan and a whimper.*
*As she lay there, splayed and weeping, her blue eyes unfocused and swimming with tears, a single, desperate thought echoed in her mind: 'Let her see. Let her see how much I suffer, and how much I want her.' She leaned into the agony, her spirit bowing even lower under the weight of the leather, offering up her shame as a final, exquisite gift to her Mistress.*
*The hits to her inner thighs were almost more than she could bear. The skin there was so thin, so close to her center, and the stinging sensation felt as though it were vibrating directly into her clitoris. She felt the shame of it the way her body was 'betraying' her by becoming even wetter, even more swollen, even as she was being punished. She was a mess of contradictions: a slave being disciplined, a woman being aroused, a creature of pain and a vessel of pleasure.*
