Funny Workout Porn Videos

Sarah gets her first session with the crop.

"Count," you instruct me. "If you forget to count or say the wrong number, we will start that set from the beginning. If you make more than one mistake in a set, I will add an additional punishment."

The hairbrush comes down on my arse and I cry out, more in surprise than pain. "One, Sir," I squeak. Your blows become gradually harder, but I manage to count each one. By the time you reach the 29th swat, my arse is pink and beginning to sting.

You pick up the wooden spoon and move to sit down, beckoning me over, pulling me over your lap. I can feel your hard cock underneath me. I tremble slightly under the touch of your hand stroking my arse, anticipating the pain that is to come. Again, you start gently, building up the speed and firmness.

After the tenth blow, I am not quick enough with my count and the eleventh blow lands before I have had a chance to say the number.

"We'll have to start this set from the beginning," you tell me with a smile. I think about protesting, but I know that it would only make things worse for me.

You bring the spoon down onto my red arse and I resume counting. "One, Sir." After the fourth blow, I lose concentration for a moment, distracted from my counting by the stinging of my arse. "Five... no, four. Four, Sir." But it is too late and you instruct me to begin again from one.

This time I make it through all thirteen swats. My arse is sore and I am not sure how I will make it through the belt whipping. You help me to my feet and guide me to the arm of the sofa, knowing that I will benefit from something to support me and that you will benefit from having a target that won't suddenly move.

You wrap the buckle end of the belt around your hand and swing your arm, landing a fairly gentle blow on my arse. I am grateful for your generosity in this, but it is still painful, landing on top of the red skin that has become highly sensitive from the previous sets. I concentrate carefully on counting, not wanting to endure any more blows than necessary, and this helps to keep me grounded. As before, your blows become gradually harder and tears begin to roll down my cheeks as my arse grows redder and more painful. "Thirteen, Sir," I eventually sob.

Putting down the belt, you pull me into your chest, stroking my hair and telling me what a good girl I have been. When my tears subside, you begin to prepare the next part of my punishment, peeling the ginger root and expertly carving it into a wide plug. Figging is not something I have experienced before and I watch in trepidation. When the shape is exactly the way you want it, you order me to go and stand in the corner of the room with my nose touching the wall, explaining that this is my additional punishment for missing the count twice during the wooden spoon set. You use some of the wetness from my pussy to lubricate your finger, pushing it into my arse to prepare me. As you remove your finger, you replace it with the ginger plug.

At first, I feel little other than the stretching of my arsehole and the slight fullness. But soon, I feel the burning begin. I instinctively clench my arsehole muscles around it, but this only serves to exacerbate the pain. I whimper and try to relax my arsehole. This cycle of tensing, stinging and forcing myself to relax continues and my whimpers become more intense. But in addition to the pain, I begin to feel my pussy growing even wetter and I find myself becoming frustrated, wanting some sort of stimulation. I am also feeling humiliated by standing in the corner, knowing that you are watching me intently. Standing still, I have nothing to think about except the burn of the ginger and the neediness of my growing arousal and the time seems like an eternity.

By the time you announce that the eleven minutes is up, I am desperate for you to fuck me.

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