Unknown - The master_s revenge

She knew she didn't have to move her finger very far to touch her clit. She only had to pull upward about an inch. She was touching herself directly below her little man in the boat. But the beautiful blonde woman took a deep breath to replenish her willpower and pushed her finger downward instead. She rubbed in between the inner lips, deeper and deeper. She hooked her finger under the base of her pubic bone and penetrated herself with the middle finger on her right hand. She violated her own cunt in this fashion very slowly and carefully – making sure she didn't scratch herself with her long nail.

She bent her wrist.

She pushed in up to the third knuckle.

She touched her own cervix. She caressed the mouth of her womb. She could feel her clit ready to come popping right out of her quim. Her back teeth were clenched and her eyes were closed tightly. Her mouth was open a little, the lips puckered and sensuous. She was breathing as if she were purposefully trying to hyperventilate herself. Her heartbeat was racing. She could feel a little perspiration on her inner thighs.

Her toes curled under tightly. Her pink toes were gripping desperately at the balls of her dainty feet.

She worked her finger in and out of her cunt slowly – and then faster. And then faster still. She worked three fingers up inside herself and she whipped that honey pot into a froth!

Annabelle finger-fucked herself in this manner until she was on the edge of orgasm. She then placed her left forefinger at the very top of her slit, at the base of her inverted triangle of golden blonde pubic hair as she pulled her right fingers – which were all wet and sticky – out of her cunt. She placed her fingernail on her clitoral foreskin and tugged that fleshy sheath upward, completely away from the fiery bulb that was the focal point of her feminine craving.

She rendered her love button completely naked and vulnerable to her own caress. She then touched her clit as lightly as she possibly could with the fleshy tip of her free forefinger. She pulled her finger away almost immediately.

She knew that she didn't have to touch that fiery bulb. She knew that all sensations spawned by the direct caress to her clit would be amplified a thousand times by her aroused nervous-system.

She sought – and she found – the most subtle clitoral caress. In spite of this, she could feel a lightning bolt of pleasure shooting up her spine toward the base of her skull.

She could feel the shot of pleasure stopping at the base of her skull and then retreating. She dabbed at her clit with her finger, feeling a stronger bolt of pleasure each time – but she always pulled her finger away from the magic spot before her orgasmic convulsions had an opportunity to begin.

She waited until all of her muscles were tensed. She waited until she was breathing so hard that she was hardly breathing at all. She waited until she was shuddering violently and she feared she would hurt herself – pull a muscle of something.

Then Annabelle put her finger on her clit and left it there, she kept her finger still and alternated the pressure from light to firm – and then back to light again.

She was hovering on the edge.

She was teetering on the cliff.

She was ready to tumble into the bottomless abyss of bliss.

She began to roll her love button in several slow circles – and then a quick figure eight. That did it. She tipped herself over the edge and she fell into the bottomless pit. She let out a shrill cry as she could feel the explosions of sexual wonder starting up at the top of her thoroughly engorged snatch.

She could feel the pleasure in her clit spreading until it filled her vulva – and then her entire lower torso. Her tongue flopped in and out of her mouth.

Annabelle could feel the feminine ecstasy spreading through her – almost as if it were moving in slow motion.

The joy dispersed from her clit in ever-increasing concentric circles – and they didn't stop until Annabelle was enveloped by them.

The beautiful blonde woman could feel each and every one of her nerve-endings being affected by her pleasure. Her nervous-system was going berserk. She let out a loud cry of joy. Her lips stretched back over her teeth.

A vein throbbed at her temple.

She shook her head from side to side as the thunderclap rolled up her spine to the base of her skull, as before – where it now only paused for a fraction of a second before exploding into the gorgeous towhead's reeling brain.

She could feel her fingers getting even wetter and stickier than before. Her asshole was opening and closing wildly, as if her orgasm had spread to that passageway as well.

Her sense of time and space was badly warped by the acuteness of her pleasure. Annabelle was only vaguely aware of where she was. She felt as if her ass cheeks were lifting off the toilet seat.

Annabelle's sense of reality left her. Her stream-of-consciousness began to travel many different paths – all simultaneously. Her thoughts were strewn in subject, diffuse, and her attention span was close to nil.

Then the pleasure was over and she could feel her womanly ecstasy instantly becoming replaced – to her moaning delight – by the intense warmth and utter contentment of the woman's post-orgasmic afterglow. Her loins were rich and alive with her sexual appeasement. She quickly caught her breath.

Reality began to filter back down into her brain. She could see the walls in front of her. The framed painting. The carpet beneath her feet.

She struggled to catch her breath – and her milky white tits and pink nipples bobbed up and down on her chest as she sucked air into her lungs.

She left her fingers in the pie for a moment or two – and then pulled them out quickly, embarrassed to see herself in that degrading way.

She was sobered by her satisfaction and she quickly got up off the toilet. She went directly to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. She dried them off and sniffed her fingers.

Her nostrils still picked up the scent of her animalistic womanhood so she washed her hands again. This time she was satisfied that they smelled only of the soap she had used.

She realized that she had to pee so she returned to the toilet and squatted over it. She leaned back because the muscles in her neck felt a little tight and she wanted to stretch.

She happened to press her ear against the ventilation pipe when she did that – and she was surprised to find that she really could hear voices!

Not only could she hear the voices, but she could understand the words. One of the voices belonged to a small Negro girl and the other to her husband.

Annabelle almost forgot to urinate as she listened in on the conversation. She couldn't believe it. Her eyes got wider and wider. It has been said that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Pretty Annabelle Cornfield was about to prove that adage true.

The conversation she heard went like this: "Tammy, you are gonna have to take the whole thing inside you."

"But I can't Master, you are gonna rip me apart!"

"Little slave girl, you don't know much about obedience."

"Owwww! Don't do that to my nipple. Oh God!"

"I will decide what to do and what not to do around here!"

"But you hurt me so badly. How can you enjoy it?"

"I enjoy it because I love you Tammy. This is how I love."

"Lord have mercy on my soul! Please don't do it!"

"You have taken my cock inside your pussy many times, Tammy."

"Yes, but you said you weren't going to use your cock."

"That's right! I am going to fuck you with my entire fist!"

"B-b-b-b-but why do you need that black leather glove?"

"Because I can't stand getting blood on my hands!!!!"

Down in the torture chamber – totally unaware of the fact that he had an audience – and a very important audience at that – Bernard went about his weekly task of abusing the littlest of his slaves.