The Ottomon

She kneels naked in front of the ottoman, bent over it, head down and arms out. The leather slaps against her ivory skin, across her back and hip. Leaving red marks in it's wake. She holds her breath waiting formthe sting of pain, biting her lip she hold back the tears. Not making a sound, not moving. Harder and harder. Slow and deliberate the leather lashes across her skin. She finally let's go and cries out a soft sound. Harder and harder until the the tears flow. She begs for it to stop and buries her head in the ottoman. She feels the weight of her lover.finger probing, thrusting into her. She mons in ecstasy. Hips rocking, back arching. Her lovers hand wrapped in her hair pulling, fingers bringing her to orgasam screaming. The weight is slowly lifted. She is left heart pounding, panting and exhausted.