LeatherLeather

Amateur

17 April 1922, Berlin

Three riding crops were lined up in a row. Two cat o’ nine tails next to them. A leather mask and bustier. Cuffs lined with mink. On a raised dais was a daybed draped in red velvet. Candles flickered in sconces on the walls. Fierce heat from the fireplace. It wasn’t your typical showroom, but then Ingrid was a master–or rather, mistress–of the hard sell. “Atmosphere is so very important, darling,” she had said to me the first time we were introduced. Of course, her business–the supply of leather “goods” to the sexually daring–was booming, and selling hard or soft would have produced the same profit margins. Though, truth be told, her clients preferred it hard. As Ingrid had also said to me once, “Behind every bourgeois facade lie a thousand dark fantasies.” And it was true. I’d come to Berlin at the behest of my own list of clients.

Ingrid entered the room with a young assistant in tow. The assistant, a blonde, wore a red leather choker with a large loop at the front for attaching chains and the like. Ingrid had a new assistant every time I came to visit. They were all artist’s models looking to earn a few extra sous, and given the nature of the work, all adventurous young things. For Ingrid’s “sales assistants” didn’t merely display her merchandise; they demonstrated it, on their own bodies.

The assistant’s robe fell from her shoulders. I saw at once she was a natural blonde, her body covered in fine golden hairs that glinted in the firelight. Her backside was heart-shaped and firm, her belly taut. Her breasts were tear-shaped and pert, their size exaggerated manisa escort by her petite frame. Of particular interest were her inverted nipples (a feature I have always found alluring in women).

“This is Nico,” Ingrid said by way of introduction, picking up the smallest riding crop and inserting it through the ring in Nico’s choker. In this way she dragged her to the bed. Before I could say another word, she extracted the crop and gave Nico two smart thwacks on the tips of her breasts.

“Just waking them up,” she explained.

And those two shy nipples did indeed arise, swollen and cherry red, from hiding.

Ingrid then snatched up the mask and bustier and tossed them to Nico.

“Put these on,” she ordered.

I could see immediately the materials were of the finest. The supple leather of the bustier pushed Nico’s breasts up and forward, creating a tantalizing line of cleavage; the mask covered all but the eyes and mouth. The lower torso and the sex were left completely exposed.

“Turn over!”

Nico complied like a good submissive. I could just make out darker places on the skin of her thighs, resembling thin stripes. Lashes that had healed but left an indelible, albeit shadowy, mark. Nico had clearly been working for Ingrid for some time. I caught the hint of a smile on her lips as she rolled her belly onto the velvet and pushed her bare ass into the air. Ingrid stepped forward and began stroking the inside of Nico’s thighs with the crop, moving higher and higher until she reached the unprotected sex. When she lifted the crop for maraş escort me to inspect, I saw it was dripping with juice.

“All the leather I sell, you’ll be happy to know, is treated and stain-resistant,” Ingrid reassured me.

“Oh, that is good to know,” I replied.

Ingrid went for the two larger crops and returned, stroking with the smaller but now striking with the larger. Fine red lines arose on the tender flesh of Nico’s thighs. With each controlled stroke, she would stifle a low moan and whisper through clenched teeth, “Again, please, Mistress.” Naturally Ingrid complied with the repeated request, until a series of red stripes covered Nico’s inner thighs.

“Now, Jacques, come here,” she suddenly commanded.

She led me to a wooden post in the corner by the fireplace.

“Sit!” “But Ingrid…” I hesitated.

Then, before I knew it, she had me on my bottom, my hands bound to the post with the mink-lined cuffs. Altogether, it was not an unpleasant sensation. Ingrid then led Nico over and pushed her forward until her quivering, blonde sex was an inch from my mouth. I could smell her desire. I could see the glistening lips. Ingrid slipped the loop of the choker over an adjustable hook on the post, binding Nico in an upright position. She then went and took up the two cat o’ nine tails.

“Now Jacques, as you can see, young Nico here is just dripping with enthusiasm. However, I don’t want her enthusiasm all over my parquet floor. So, I’m placing you under her. I hope you understand, this is a very responsible position.”

Ingrid then mardin escort pushed Nico’s pelvis slightly forward, forcing her moistened sex into my mouth. The bulge in my pants grew as the cat o’ nine tails passed over it. Ingrid reached back and brought the whip down hard on Nico’s flesh. Her ass quivered as a drop of honey slid from her labia onto my tongue. I drank eagerly as Ingrid continued to lash Nico’s bottom. Each stroke of the cat o’ nine tails forced her sweet-smelling sex deeper into my mouth. Her juices were flowing steadily now. I was drinking my fill, sucking harder and harder at the well. Nico was getting it front and back, pleasure and pain, and it must have overwhelmed her, for her moans and gasps built in intensity. This only heightened the frenzy of Ingrid’s strokes, and now a trickle of blood mingled with nectar. My thirst was unquenchable. Nico shivered. I could actually feel the current move down her labia and thighs, which rubbed my cheeks. She let out one final cry, nearly fainting. Ingrid loosed the hook and led her back to the bed, where she collapsed.

Ingrid then uncuffed me, adding, “She seems dazed, Jacques. Perhaps she needs a drink.”

I didn’t require any prodding. I undid my trousers and released my overheated member. Ingrid passed the cat o’ nine tails up and down its length a few times. That was all it took. I took aim as my jism spurted several feet through the air into Nico’s waiting mouth. She drank as eagerly of me as I had of her. A bit did land on the mask, however.

Ingrid answered my expression, “Everything seems to be in working order. I’ll wrap it all up for you. And Jacques, if you’re worried about having soiled the merchandise, don’t.” She bent over Nico and licked the remaining drops of white fluid from the mask with that long German tongue of hers. “It’s stain-resistant, remember?”

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