“Open your eyes and look at me.”
It wasn’t a request but a command that I heard through my floaty haze. After working my backside over, he had me flipped over so he could use his cane on my thighs and my tits. I had thrown my head back and closed my eyes to keep from squirming in anticipation of the strike. And he was making me stop doing that.
I recall opening my eyes and trying to keep them over as I processed the pain and moaned in pleasure and laughed at myself for exclaiming before he touched me. The intensity of his gave into my eyes dialed up the intensity between us several notches. I slid my hand up his leg and held onto him in an effort to keep my eyes focused on his eyes – and not close them with each strike and moan.
After several more strikes with the cane, he leaned down and kissed me. “I love how I can make you squirm under my cane.”
