Bus Tour: Soft touches (2/3)

Continued from Soft touches (1/3)

When she has almost reached the point where she could not care anymore and just wanted to allow her orgasm to overwhelm her body, the finger disappeared from her pussy. The pulling and pinching of her nipples stopped. She could hear the rustling of movements beside the bed and even some whispering. There was some movement on the bed. Everywhere. At her legs. At her arms, sides, head, all over. Many hands started to wash her. The sponges that were used were not soft. And the hands using those sponges were not gently. Her arms were scrubbed harshly, leaving a burning sensation. At the same time the same happened to her legs. She tried to wriggle away from the harsh treatment, but the restraints were keeping her in one place. Only her face was gently cleaned. The sensation of the burning on her arms and legs was a huge contrast to the gently touch on her face.

Two hands moved to her upper body and continued the harsh treatment she just had on her arms. They did not spare her breasts, her nipples. Her pinched nipples hurt every time the rough sponge moved over them. In contrast with this her pussy was very gently washed. She was wet, very wet, and not only from the water that was used. The sponging of her pussy fired up the lust in her, bringing her to the brink of an orgasm again. Rebel concentrated hard. She tried to concentrate on her hurting nipples, hoping that the urge to orgasm would pass. It did not. The hurt excited her even more. That, combined with the gently washing of her pussy, the sponge softly moving over her clitoris sent her over the edge. She could not hold back anymore. Rebel climaxed. Against her husband’s orders, she had an orgasm. The grunt that escaped her lips and the arching of her back were telltale signs.

“Did you just have a climax, slut?” Her husband did not wait for her answer. “Did I not say that you were not allowed?”

All washing of her body had stopped. Her ankle cuffs were unclipped from their restraints. Her feet were lifted up in the air and there was that metal on metal sound again as her ankle cuffs were attached to something else. Then Rebel heard a soft whirring sound. He was hoisted in the air. When the whirring stopped, only her head and shoulders were still touching the bed. The rest was hanging in midair. There was some whispering again, but Rebel could not understand a word of it. What she did understand was the first blow that landed on her ass. She was being punished for her orgasm. Rebel recognized the feeling and sound of the flogger her husband always used. The way the blows landed on her bum was evident of him handling the flogger.

Rebel twisted and turned as the burning of her ass were getting too much to handle. The flogging stopped. But her punishment was not over yet. Beside her on the bed she felt movement again. Slap. Slap-slap. Slap. Slap. In the same rhythm her other buttock was slapped too. Being spanked after being flogged was sweet torture. It hurt, it felt good. But it hurt more. Rebel’s pussy betrayed her. She was wet. Wet from her orgasm, wet from new juices flowing. Movement beside her again. It was clear that whoever spanked her, got of bed. Soon someone took the person’s place. She was spanked again – five blows to each buttock. This was repeated four more times; six times in total. When the last one spanked her, Rebel was dripping wet and close to another orgasm. She was grateful that she could push her legs together to keep the lust contained.

To be continued… Soft touches (3/3)

© Rebel’s Notes