Indian Mallu Milf In Blue Saree

I don't know as I lose any abilityto focus. Each blow is a staggering sting and sends a shudder through me.(Mistress can feel my shuddering. She's told me how powerful it makes herfeel.) It hurts so much but I know there's no way to stop it.With each blow I hope it's the last. But at that moment I belong to hertotally. I love and crave being at her mercy. I trust Mistress ascompletely as one person can trust another.But all I want in the world is for each stinging slap to be the last one.I curse myself for insisting that a safe word is unnecessary. But whatgood what it do me anyhow as it would just come out in the same garbledtone as my current grunting? My mind is adrift. I am just an object ather whim. I can just make out her own moans of pleasure as I know she'sdelighting in her total control of me.Just when my mind finally ceases to consider that the last smack willever come, when I'm engulfed in being only a toy for her pleasure, theblows do seem to stop. Is it just for a. I try not to think about it, or at least not look atit. I always wrote. Nobodyknew what exactly what I was writing about. I didn't let them know, I didn'twant them to know. I wrote for me. But, it would have been nice to showsomebody, If I thought they'd take it the way I intended it to be taken. Tonight was going to be agood night. I had coffee, cream, enough smokes, and my Daiquiri's (whichhappened to be my current phase.) I had a fridge and bardownstairs with me. just beyond my room. I kept procrastinating going upstairsto the Piano, I didn't really want to leave my room. I had ideas. I settled formy keyboard. Which can be interesting when you have ideas. I repeated thewords... "Pinnacle, Pinnacle, Pinnacle, Nadir, Nadir, Nadir, Zenith."I experiemented withdifferent tones, pitches, and volumes. I wheeled back over to my computer toput the music I was listening to back on, and picked up where I left off. I chewed on the redplastic of my pen, and shook my right leg vigorously..
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