Isabella’s POV
Mr. L's hand moved methodically across my bare skin, delivering measured slaps that resonated through the room. From one asscheek to the other and sometimes on both asscheeks at once.
The initial sting was unexpected yet quickly gave way to a deeper, more complex, and exhilarating sensation. Far from painful, each contact carried a strange mix of tenderness and intensity. To my surprise, it didn't hurt much.
Under the blindfold, my senses heightened, and every touch amplified. His deliberate movements evoked a response I hadn't anticipated – not discomfort, but a primal awareness of my own body. With each slap, a moan escaped my lips, as I began to embrace the new and unfamiliar sensations coursing through me.
I surrendered to the rhythm of his touch. The room seemed to pulse in time with our shared exploration, a dance of trust and connection unfolding between us.
The difference between Mr L and my former master was like light and day. Where my previous master had been rough and unyielding and wanted so badly to prove he was in control, Mr. L was gentle yet commanding, awakening desires in me that had long been dormant. Mr L was confident in his control which made it all the more sexy.
He owned me through and through in this moment and he knew it. My soul, body, voice. Everything was for his pleasure and mine too.
It felt like I was rediscovering the thrill of BDSM anew as if it were my first time delving into such sensations. As though I had been a virgin before today.
Mr. L abruptly ceased his slapping, engulfing me in overwhelming pleasure that twisted my body and elicited uncontrollable moans. The discomfort of my panties intensified—how could he not notice? My panties were so wet like it had been soaked in a bucket of water or left out in the rain.
Instead of more slaps, his hand glided over my neck, shoulders, and waist, and then back to my buttocks. With gentle precision, his fingers hovered at my labia, tracing its slick folds before discreetly sliding beneath my soaked panties.
I moaned, out loud at the warmness of his hands and the expectations of even more sweetness from him.
“Yes, master.”
His expectant gaze awaited my response burning through my back just like his touch from my neck to my buttocks had done, but any words I could muster were drowned out by my own breathless panting. Surely, he understood my consent without needing to hear it aloud.
But he wanted to hear it.
I swallowed, summoning my voice from the deepest part of me knowing he won’t go on till I did. I needed him to go on or I would die. This need surpasses every other thing.
"Yes. Please, master," I managed to rasp, prompting him to delve two fingers deep inside me. My body eagerly welcomed his touch, my inner walls pulsating around his invading fingers. My vagina swallowed each thrust with hunger.
Between each firm knead of my labia, he would occasionally deliver a sharper slap that sent waves of pleasure-pain coursing through me.
As my climax approached, my body tensed with anticipation.
A chorus of screams and moans intertwined, each overlaying the other in a crescendo. So long as I didn't utter the safe word, his firm grip around my waist would pull me back, again and again, anchoring me tightly against his thighs.
This ritual, though familiar, sparked an insatiable desire within me, tears of overwhelming pleasure welling at the corners of my eyes. I could barely endure such intense play any longer.
This time, after the master finished the intense slapping, his fingers delved deep between my labia, through the fabric of my panties. I moaned as I reached my climax. The moisture didn't gush out but trickled slowly, dampening his fingers and my thighs.
He lifted the edge of my panties, silently removing them, leaving my buttocks exposed without any cover.
Large patches of crimson flushed deep beneath my skin as he gently stroked them with both hands, his touch reverent, as though admiring an artwork he had meticulously crafted. His fingers kneaded vigorously, a careful dance to prevent my skin from bruising, ensuring tomorrow would bear no painful reminders of tonight's intensity.
The master's restrained yet heavy exhalation echoed in the room, barely disguising his primal groans as he kissed my asscheeks, inhaling my scent with a hunger that matched my own growing anticipation.
Silent fingers slid delicately over my labia, sending shivers of expectation through my tense body. Every touch was a promise, and without warning, Mr. L plunged three fingers deep inside me. Despite my already slick arousal, the sudden intrusion shocked a scream from my lips, blending surprise with a wave of undeniable pleasure.
With each touch, I surrendered like a sponge drenched in water, releasing a stream of unending moans. His fingers skillfully found my most sensitive spots, igniting waves of pleasure that left me breathless.
Every withdrawal left me achingly empty, craving the next delicious thrust. He commanded my voice, my body, and even my thoughts with an expertise that enthralled me.
My voice was controlled by him, my body was controlled by him, and my brain was controlled by him.
I could barely breathe. So even my breath was controlled by him.
The sensation was more electrifying than any moment I'd shared with Levi. The master's touch wielded absolute control over me, igniting full feelings of lust in me.
The master took complete control and I became drunk with desire which was better than any alcohol. From now on I’ll only fantasize about the master, not Levi. However, I couldn’t help but feel a similarity between the touch of the master and Mr L. But I concluded that it must be because the last time I felt like this was that night with Levi when he had been my master instead of my boss and had given me immense pleasure.
Mr L felt familiar, yet new. A new desire for me. One that I loved. I could already tell that the day was just starting and so was my unending pleasure.