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Chinese torture

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elmachikoo

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Paola was the classic woman who did not go unnoticed. Imposing breasts, generous curves in the right place, you never saw her without make-up and coordinated dress; not even if she went out just to throw the garbage. But it did not seem to pull it off, quite the opposite: very expansive, cheerful, always smiling, the ready, ironic and sometimes mischievous joke. All the opposite of her husband, who seemed to dodge any human contact to skimp the greeting.
We had been neighbors for three months now, since I had separated and moved to a furnished apartment, which before me was rented to students, on the top floor of a small building in a residential neighborhood where families live in the same house as generations. Paola had been the first to welcome me as soon as she arrived; he wanted to tell me about the life, death and miracles of my apartment and previous tenants. At first I kept her a bit in check, fearing that she would be the usual curious looking for news to gossip with the neighborhood. Then I realized that he was looking for true friendship. Although both had been in the "anta" for a long time (and she, probably, before me; even if she kept her age jealously hidden), I felt a great vitality in her, very in tune with mine.
We continued to give each other of her keeping a certain formality, as if we were playing good polite neighbors, but I was no longer in the skin from the desire to find out if that elegantly erotic sensuality that leaked from her appearance was only appearance or if it was that dormant volcano I hoped for.
The opportunity provided me when he asked me: "So how do you find it? Have you made any changes? Did the bedroom keep you in the room facing my house? "
I would have liked to answer her: "It's the one with the window from where I look at you when you undress, you often forget the half-drawn curtain ..." as singles I am also very away from home ... "" but I don't fix it, you know ... I already have a hard time doing my own business ... "usual trivia.
I understood that since I arrived, he has been waiting for nothing but that invitation. And coincidentally, it fell precisely on a summer afternoon, while her husband was intent on his usual nap of which she, always casually, informed me.
Paola seemed to know my apartment perfectly. The furniture was from the period, as left by the old owner, she had told me that she was a mathematics professor with whom she took lessons when she was a high school student. Everything had an austere air, unchanged for decades as if it were a museum, despite some posters and stickers left by the students, which I had not removed a little out of laziness, a little because I hoped to find a better accommodation soon.
I was using the bare minimum, completely ignoring parts of the house. Like the professor's study: a small room to which Paola immediately went, anxious to find what she remembered: a desk on the wall, set in a bookcase.
"If you knew how many afternoons I spent here ..." and so saying he sat on the armchair in front of the desk.
"He was very severe, you know ... He gave me certain punishments ..." in pronouncing these words he looked at me from the bottom up, with the gaze of someone who knows he has something to hide and expects a rebuke. I was standing, leaning against the desk, imagining that I was the professor examining his notebook full of errors.
"Oh yes? Do you still remember it? ... corporal punishment? " I said ironically.
Without saying anything he lifted the shutter on his desk and firmly opened a side drawer. It seemed empty, but he slipped a hand into it, rummaging at the bottom ... a cry of excitement escaped her, he pulled out two Chinese bamboo chopsticks, showed me how he had found a treasure: "but think ... I'm still here!"
"Ah, was that the punishment? Did he make you eat Cantonese rice? " ironizzai.
"No, no ... really, it was very severe. But for my sake. He inflicted certain punishments on me ... "
"Wand it on your fingers?"
"No ... he beat me where the signs were not seen. It gave me a lot ... "
"Who still remembers them."
"I remember them, yes ... but it's not a bad memory. It was for my sake ... "And so saying he looked at me again with that girlish air that has something to hide.
Too ambiguous that look. Too many lustful thoughts for my mind. I decided to play a card: if it had been wrong, at best I would have broken the friendship.
I leaned an elbow on the desk, I brought my face close to his palm, with the other hand I raised her chin forcing her to look me straight in the eyes:
“Paola, even now you deserve punishment. For your sake. "
“If you say so, Professor, I deserve it. Punish me. "
I still had a strong doubt that Paola just wanted to provoke me.
"Prepare for punishment."
Paola slowly - very slowly - got up and undid her jeans, lowering them to her knees. He leaned on the desk with his elbows
and arched his back with his buttocks raised high. Round, firm, a wonder now, who knows what a crash when a girl was! She wore a thong that disappeared between her buttocks.
"I'm ready for punishment, Professor." He said it very seriously.
My throat was dry with emotion. I would have liked to plunge my tongue into that furrow, moving aside the string of the thong, pulling it to get it between the big lips, breathing all the scent of a woman in heat that I felt emanating from every pore. But it was not the time.
I grabbed both the sticks on the thin side, between the thumb and forefinger, and I vibrated the first lash, in the center of the buttock, with a dry snap. A moan escaped her, she bit her lip as the redness surfaced.
I had never used chopsticks for that purpose, I soon realized that they could leave very marked marks on Paola's skin. But she didn't see them, nor did she seem to feel too much pain. Taken from the heat and incited by his retained moans, I made them become very red the buttocks. Paola was shaken with every stroke, her breathing became more and more intense and labored, until I saw her rise and tighten her legs as if she were to hold back her pee, but I understood that she simply wanted to hold back orgasm.
"I can't complete the punishment if you don't cooperate."
"I will do whatever you want, Professor"
My fantasy was galloping. I played the joker. Who knows if the professor was really pig or just a little sadistic.
"Do you know what you have to do now?"
Paola without saying a word went to the bedroom. As if it had been there the day before.
He slipped off his jeans while holding his thong, unfastened his blouse and took off his bra. Then he lay down on his back with his arms outstretched towards the wrought iron back.
I felt as if the Professor's spirit had materialized and was there to guide me.
I took a scarf and tied her wrists to the back. I met her gaze and held back the urge to kiss her with enormous effort. Too beautiful, cheeky and provocative in its fake naivete. Her cheeks had turned red as before her buttocks.
You got the two chopsticks and went to the kitchen to get two rubber bands.
I straddled them and brought the huge breasts close to each other, squeezing them between my knees. Then I trapped both nipples between the two rods and clamped the rods with the elastic bands between them.
Immediately the nipples became round and purple like two cherries.
"This the professor has never done to me."
“You deserve this today. I am the Professor! "
"Yes Professor. All he wants to do is just good for me. "
I grabbed the chopsticks in the center and lifted her nipples, keeping them tighter and tighter to the limit, until they suddenly escaped from the grip as the chopsticks snapped between them.
I resisted the temptation to suck those cherries so raped and certainly painful.
I took off her thong and for a moment I stopped to admire her perfectly depilated mount of Venus in ecstasy.
I knelt between his legs spreading them and finally discovered the clitoris. It was exactly how I wanted it, to satisfy my imagination: erect, protruding and generously sized!
I picked up the wands and imprisoned the clitoris between them, always fixing them with elastic bands. The chopsticks became bowed and looking at Paola's expression it seemed that she didn't feel the torture too much, or she endured it stoically. Gradually, bringing the elastic bands closer to the clitoris, I increased the pressure and the protruding needle became more and more purple, but Paola, despite some tremors, still did not seem to be at the limit of pain. I could not resist anymore: I dipped a finger into the secretion of her vagina and started massaging her protruding, shiny and now purple needle. Paola stiffened, began to tremble more and more, tried in every way to close her legs, to shrink to escape the stimulus, but I was relentless, I kept her legs apart as I tortured her the tip which was now to be unbearably sensitive, until it exploded in a liberating cry and indulged in orgasm.
I freed her battered clitoris, always resisting the temptation to ease her suffering with the caress of my tongue, and I loosened her wrists.
Paola, exited from the trance of orgasm, seemed to have also exited her identification with the role of high school student and returned to the present. Her voice was no longer shy and silly as a young girl, it had returned to the mature and confident woman.
"I dared not hope that I would find a master's degree."
“I'm not a master. Let's say ... too. But for fun. "
"Really? I'd like to be your slave ... "
"We'll see."
"Mhhh ... yes Professor! I will try to deserve the promotion! "
Paola clung to me rubbing the swollen flap with one hand and closing her eyes brought her parted lips closer. We gave each other a deep, long and intense kiss ch
and ended by giving her a little bite on the tip of the tongue.
"Do you want me to come over?" he maliciously whispered in my ear, continuing to rub my fly.
I didn't have time to think the answer, which could have been affirmative. His cell phone started to ring and broke the pathos.
"Not now. I'll wait for you tomorrow, but half an hour earlier. "
She dressed quickly and rearranged her makeup just as quickly as I repressed the desire to take it and make her discover the passion that had ignited me without restraint.
I kissed her again when she was at the door and watched her go down the stairs, thinking of her purple buttocks, until I felt the door close tightly behind her. Behind the shutters, I followed her quick step home, then I imagined her going into the house and telling her husband a few balls.
In the evening, while I waited for his room to light up, a long message came to me. He said that for too long he had wanted to relive certain sensations, that he had found the master he was looking for in me, that he would do everything I had ordered, if I wanted to give her orders.
I replied. "Come tomorrow as I told you before."
I closed the shutter. I no longer felt the need to spy on her. It was mine.
 
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