Honza, Rudolf, Roland & Daniel - Duty Corded
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I’ve always attempted so rock hard to behave myself. My mother always said ı was a people-pleaser, and ı guess she’s not wrong. I attempt to sight smart. I attempt to be helpful. I attempt to listen and to learn. The grief is ı just ’t seem to get things right. at times ı sense that the tighter ı try, the more likely ı am to end up in trouble. To make matters worse, most of the time ı just don’t know what ı’ve done wrong, and it’s impossible to learn from your mistakes if you don’t know what those mistakes are. I was informed yesterday evening that disciplinary activity was required as a result of my recent behavior. No more information was given. I was simply told to report to duty bound at 9pm. Of course, ı spent the entire night and all of the day today worrying about what ı’d done, attempting to replay every darned conversation ı’d ever had with duty bound in an attempt to figure out why ı’d been summoned. By the time ı reached the chamber, ı was a mess. Duty bound, unsurprisingly, said nothing. He just sat on a red tabouret in the darkened guest room and nodded me over to him, deep frustration etched all over his gorgeous face. He instantaneously told me to liquidate my trousers and ı did so, obediently, attempting to manage my nerves because my forearms just wouldn’t stop shaking. I stood for a moment or two, rigid with fear, as the sir looked up at me, assessing my punishment. Then he told me to lie throughout his lap. For a split 2nd ı couldn’t make myself move. I instantly realized that he was going to slap me—just like they did in the olden days. The devised his giant forearms pelting down on my figure was appalling beyond words. I took a deep breath and tentatively moved toward his lap, somewhat clumsily lounging face down on top of it. I was instantly devoured by wafts of a beautiful scent which was coming from underneath his clothes. I was so profoundly sorry that it was duty bound whom ı’d let down. I have so much respect for him. It sounds super-naughty because the man was about to discipline me, but there was something comforting about the prospect. He’s so tall and significant and ı felt so puny and insignificant, ı just desired to hold him. He ran his yam-sized mitt over my butt cheeks. It felt as though he were sizing me up, attempting to work out where to land his blows. My figure began to stressfull up as ı began to imagine just how torturous it was going to be. He was dressed in large rings on his fingers. Would they cut into me? Make me ? I felt his jizz-shotgun stiffening in his trousers and commencing to shovel into my belly. It was clear that he was revved on by the devised punishing me and ı was unsure about how to process that information. He then spent what seemed like an age running his mitt over my butt and down onto my thighs. His movements felt inquisitive, like he was somehow fascinated by the shape of my body. appalled as ı was, ı ’t deny that the practice was also a lil arousing, and that sheer pleasure brought with it a deep sense of shame. I heard myself releasing a series of groans, wishing all of this could be happening in different circumstances; but, at the same time aware that it was the nature of this particular circumstance which was oddly fuelling my sexual excitement. I’ve seldom felt so conflicted. Every time ı attempted to sight up, he shoveled me back down. I longed to unzip my tie. I felt like ı was about to pass out. There was a pause. And then, thwack, his mitt made contact with my ass. It wasn’t against naked flesh. I was still in my garments. But it sent a shockwave thru my body. I don’t think it hurt. To be honest, too much adrenaline was surging thru me to be able to tell. It certainly tingled afterwards. I tensed up waiting for another hit, but instead, he shoveled his mitt underneath my garbs and soothingly ran it over my naked butt cheeks. The sheer pleasure was wonderful. It instantly made me sense safe, despite what had just happened. I firmly restrained onto duty bound’s leg, realizing that ı could neither predict what was going to happen next, nor anticipate how ı would respond to it. He shoveled a finger rock hard into my hole. It made me yelp; more, ı suspect, out of shock, than because it hurt. At the same time, ı felt his jizz-shotgun twitching against my abdomen again. It was large—very large—and ı all of a sudden found myself obsessing over the devised it injecting me. If he desired me, he could have me. I would go after a giant of a man like duty bound to the end of the world if he asked me to. He slapped me again. Then again, tighter this time. My figure began to buzz with anticipation. He taught me to stand and to liquidate my shirt and tie. I hopped to my feet, instantly serving his orders, aware, for the first-ever time, that ı was rock rock hard and tenting like super-naughty in my semi-see-through garments. I instantly became devoured with shame again. Surely ı wasn’t meant to be masturbation on this punishment? He would be horrified to think that it had that effect on me, right? I stood in my garmets as he glanced down at my dick. I was about to apologize, when he reached out and prodded it with his finger, stating what seemed so shittily obvious, that ı was getting aroused. I told him that ı was sorry. He nodded, too deep in thought to reply. Then he taught me to get back down over his lap and ı did as asked. I felt him picking something up from the floor. I didn’t dare to sight around to observe what it was, but it felt cold as he ran it over my butt. Then he affected me with it. It must have been made from wood. It was rock hard and it hurt, but in a supreme way. Then he shoveled my garbs down and my blood began to run cold. The devised whatever he was holding hammering naked skin was one ı wasn’t at all sure about. I felt his jizz-shotgun tenting against my abdomen and then the weight of the object stuffing against my butt cheek. It stung. It overwhelmed me. But as briefly as the initial surprise had dissipated, ı was ready for it to happen again. I did not have to wait long. He strike me tighter this time, and as he affected me for a 3rd time, ı realized my jizz-shotgun had began to unload pre-ejaculatory fluid onto his suit pants. He ordered me to stand once again and to liquidate all of my clothes, before commanding me to lie back down on his lap. He restrained my neck with one of his forearms and used the other to capture me by my balls. He squeezed and tugged me until ı was gagging uncontrollably, my entire figure writhing in mighty yanks of both agony and ecstasy, my jizz-shotgun still twitching jets of pre-ejaculatory fluid into his thigh. He continued to slap me with enhancing intensity, but then switched his tactic and began to fumble me with oil. It felt soothing as he ran it into the areas which were somewhat aching from the smacking, but then he began to shovel his thumbs into my crevasse again. Duty bound then told me to sit on his lap encountering him, my naked gams wrapped around his body. Then he tilted me backwards, so my head was on the floor. He carefully liquidated his ring before covering his mitt in grease which he cascaded all over my rock rock hard penis, absentmindedly frolicking with it before shoveling his fat finger deep into my hole. Then he highly carefully liquidated a clear fucktoy from a ebony velvet bag. I instantly knew he was going to shovel it into me and he did so casually and sans warning. It was thrilling. Intense. Beautiful. I submitted, completely to him. He could do whatever he desired to me. He wanked me off with one mitt as he continued to thrust the object in and out of my twitching crevasse with enhancing speed. I looked up at him, clever as a button in his suit and tie, scarcely cracking into a sweat as ı writhed and snaked about underneath him. He told me that he desired me to jism for him. I grabbed my oil-covered jizz-shotgun and began to tug at it, desperate to extend the feelings of deep fulfillment for as lengthy as ı could before reaching orgasm. Then, just like that, ı exploded. I felt a rush of absolute blessing surging thru my figure as the sperm shot out of me, all over my chest, my gams trembling uncontrollably. I lay on the floor, attempting to comprehend what had just happened, attempting to understand if ı’d been disciplined or rewarded, attempting to fathom why ı was now experiencing so strenuously connected to duty bound and so, so desperate to be with him again
I’ve always attempted so rock hard to behave myself. My mother always said ı was a people-pleaser, and ı guess she’s not wrong. I attempt to sight smart. I attempt to be helpful. I attempt to listen and to learn. The grief is ı just ’t seem to get things right. at times ı sense that the tighter ı try, the more likely ı am to end up in trouble. To make matters worse, most of the time ı just don’t know what ı’ve done wrong, and it’s impossible to learn from your mistakes if you don’t know what those mistakes are. I was informed yesterday evening that disciplinary activity was required as a result of my recent behavior. No more information was given. I was simply told to report to duty bound at 9pm. Of course, ı spent the entire night and all of the day today worrying about what ı’d done, attempting to replay every darned conversation ı’d ever had with duty bound in an attempt to figure out why ı’d been summoned. By the time ı reached the chamber, ı was a mess. Duty bound, unsurprisingly, said nothing. He just sat on a red tabouret in the darkened guest room and nodded me over to him, deep frustration etched all over his gorgeous face. He instantaneously told me to liquidate my trousers and ı did so, obediently, attempting to manage my nerves because my forearms just wouldn’t stop shaking. I stood for a moment or two, rigid with fear, as the sir looked up at me, assessing my punishment. Then he told me to lie throughout his lap. For a split 2nd ı couldn’t make myself move. I instantly realized that he was going to slap me—just like they did in the olden days. The devised his giant forearms pelting down on my figure was appalling beyond words. I took a deep breath and tentatively moved toward his lap, somewhat clumsily lounging face down on top of it. I was instantly devoured by wafts of a beautiful scent which was coming from underneath his clothes. I was so profoundly sorry that it was duty bound whom ı’d let down. I have so much respect for him. It sounds super-naughty because the man was about to discipline me, but there was something comforting about the prospect. He’s so tall and significant and ı felt so puny and insignificant, ı just desired to hold him. He ran his yam-sized mitt over my butt cheeks. It felt as though he were sizing me up, attempting to work out where to land his blows. My figure began to stressfull up as ı began to imagine just how torturous it was going to be. He was dressed in large rings on his fingers. Would they cut into me? Make me ? I felt his jizz-shotgun stiffening in his trousers and commencing to shovel into my belly. It was clear that he was revved on by the devised punishing me and ı was unsure about how to process that information. He then spent what seemed like an age running his mitt over my butt and down onto my thighs. His movements felt inquisitive, like he was somehow fascinated by the shape of my body. appalled as ı was, ı ’t deny that the practice was also a lil arousing, and that sheer pleasure brought with it a deep sense of shame. I heard myself releasing a series of groans, wishing all of this could be happening in different circumstances; but, at the same time aware that it was the nature of this particular circumstance which was oddly fuelling my sexual excitement. I’ve seldom felt so conflicted. Every time ı attempted to sight up, he shoveled me back down. I longed to unzip my tie. I felt like ı was about to pass out. There was a pause. And then, thwack, his mitt made contact with my ass. It wasn’t against naked flesh. I was still in my garments. But it sent a shockwave thru my body. I don’t think it hurt. To be honest, too much adrenaline was surging thru me to be able to tell. It certainly tingled afterwards. I tensed up waiting for another hit, but instead, he shoveled his mitt underneath my garbs and soothingly ran it over my naked butt cheeks. The sheer pleasure was wonderful. It instantly made me sense safe, despite what had just happened. I firmly restrained onto duty bound’s leg, realizing that ı could neither predict what was going to happen next, nor anticipate how ı would respond to it. He shoveled a finger rock hard into my hole. It made me yelp; more, ı suspect, out of shock, than because it hurt. At the same time, ı felt his jizz-shotgun twitching against my abdomen again. It was large—very large—and ı all of a sudden found myself obsessing over the devised it injecting me. If he desired me, he could have me. I would go after a giant of a man like duty bound to the end of the world if he asked me to. He slapped me again. Then again, tighter this time. My figure began to buzz with anticipation. He taught me to stand and to liquidate my shirt and tie. I hopped to my feet, instantly serving his orders, aware, for the first-ever time, that ı was rock rock hard and tenting like super-naughty in my semi-see-through garments. I instantly became devoured with shame again. Surely ı wasn’t meant to be masturbation on this punishment? He would be horrified to think that it had that effect on me, right? I stood in my garmets as he glanced down at my dick. I was about to apologize, when he reached out and prodded it with his finger, stating what seemed so shittily obvious, that ı was getting aroused. I told him that ı was sorry. He nodded, too deep in thought to reply. Then he taught me to get back down over his lap and ı did as asked. I felt him picking something up from the floor. I didn’t dare to sight around to observe what it was, but it felt cold as he ran it over my butt. Then he affected me with it. It must have been made from wood. It was rock hard and it hurt, but in a supreme way. Then he shoveled my garbs down and my blood began to run cold. The devised whatever he was holding hammering naked skin was one ı wasn’t at all sure about. I felt his jizz-shotgun tenting against my abdomen and then the weight of the object stuffing against my butt cheek. It stung. It overwhelmed me. But as briefly as the initial surprise had dissipated, ı was ready for it to happen again. I did not have to wait long. He strike me tighter this time, and as he affected me for a 3rd time, ı realized my jizz-shotgun had began to unload pre-ejaculatory fluid onto his suit pants. He ordered me to stand once again and to liquidate all of my clothes, before commanding me to lie back down on his lap. He restrained my neck with one of his forearms and used the other to capture me by my balls. He squeezed and tugged me until ı was gagging uncontrollably, my entire figure writhing in mighty yanks of both agony and ecstasy, my jizz-shotgun still twitching jets of pre-ejaculatory fluid into his thigh. He continued to slap me with enhancing intensity, but then switched his tactic and began to fumble me with oil. It felt soothing as he ran it into the areas which were somewhat aching from the smacking, but then he began to shovel his thumbs into my crevasse again. Duty bound then told me to sit on his lap encountering him, my naked gams wrapped around his body. Then he tilted me backwards, so my head was on the floor. He carefully liquidated his ring before covering his mitt in grease which he cascaded all over my rock rock hard penis, absentmindedly frolicking with it before shoveling his fat finger deep into my hole. Then he highly carefully liquidated a clear fucktoy from a ebony velvet bag. I instantly knew he was going to shovel it into me and he did so casually and sans warning. It was thrilling. Intense. Beautiful. I submitted, completely to him. He could do whatever he desired to me. He wanked me off with one mitt as he continued to thrust the object in and out of my twitching crevasse with enhancing speed. I looked up at him, clever as a button in his suit and tie, scarcely cracking into a sweat as ı writhed and snaked about underneath him. He told me that he desired me to jism for him. I grabbed my oil-covered jizz-shotgun and began to tug at it, desperate to extend the feelings of deep fulfillment for as lengthy as ı could before reaching orgasm. Then, just like that, ı exploded. I felt a rush of absolute blessing surging thru my figure as the sperm shot out of me, all over my chest, my gams trembling uncontrollably. I lay on the floor, attempting to comprehend what had just happened, attempting to understand if ı’d been disciplined or rewarded, attempting to fathom why ı was now experiencing so strenuously connected to duty bound and so, so desperate to be with him again
Added: 2025-09-14 • Views: 20 • Duration: 49:12
Categories: BDSM
