Page 12 of Master Key Resort

Suddenly the feather was gone. Nothing happened for a long moment as Tiffany anticipated what would come next.

Pinpricks ran up the soles of her feet. She hissed. A Wartenberg pinwheel. Tiny little spikes on a rotating wheel.

The pain was sensual, erotic.

It hurt, but it didn’t.

It was torture.

Sweet, sweet torture.

The wheel rolled up her calf and thigh. Sir alternated the pressure, depending on the body part. Tiffany moaned, and her hips lifted involuntarily, but they didn’t get far due to the strap just above them. Pain and pleasure warred in her mind.

The wheel was lifted, then reappeared on her arm. Then it was gone again, only to start across the bottom swell of her breast. Sir made circles around one fleshy orb, growing closer and closer to the nipple. Tiffany squirmed.

She didn’t want this.

Oh, God, she did want this.

More!

No more!

Oh, please, more!

The spikes rolled across the tender nipple, and Tiffany screamed at the pleasure/pain that shot to her clit. Her pussy wept with need.

The wheel moved to her other breast, and the same pattern was repeated. Her body seized, her muscles rigid as the spikes neared their destination.

“Please, Sir! Oh, God, please!”

Her mind and body were spinning out of control. She had no idea what she was begging for. She wanted him to stop. She needed him to keep going. To take her higher until she dove into a sea of bliss.

So close.

It stopped. The wheel was gone. No, no, no!

The table shook slightly, and then her legs were spread wide. She felt Sir move between them. Without warning, the wheel returned.

Right.

Over.

Her.

Pussy.

Lips.

Tiffany screamed. Her body shook with pain. With pleasure. With need. She begged Sir to let her come, not knowing if he could hear her. She could barely hear herself, between her own heavy breathing, echoing inside her head, and the headphones.

Once again, the spikes disappeared. Panting, Tiffany waited for whatever was coming next. She hoped it was something that would send her over the edge.

Tap.Something hit the inside of her thigh. Tap. It struck again, harder and higher on her leg.

A crop.

The leather tongue landed again.

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