1. How Lieke Became Mistress Ginger 2


    Date: 7/30/2017, Categories: BDSM, Author: Bringtherapture, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    hood." She grasped a control unit that hung from the ceiling and reclined the cross to horizontal and switched on a floor fan. As she fumbled with the hood's buckles, Mike became aware again of its smell of leather and sweat, but when it lifted from his head, the sense of freedom was instantaneous, made more delicious by the cooling breeze and the bottle of water that Su Lin poured over his head. She wiped him with a soft cloth, accepting the gratitude from his eyes, while studying his slightly lined face with its close grey beard. Laying a damp cloth across his eyes that shielded them from the lights, she ran her nails over his closely cropped dome. Moving to release his restraints, she then washed and massaged his hands and feet. Deep pressure and kneading brought them to life, finishing with gentle pulls on each toe and finger. "Thanks, Su Lin," Mike said, " your touch works miracles!" "Let's see what I can do for the pain and bruising," Su Lin replied. She passed her hands just above his skin, feeling its heat in her palms, while studying its surface. Under the welts and bruises, she noted the prominent pink scar that ran down the center of his chest, which was crossed by fainter scars on his chest and stomach. She knew that these were also found on his back, buttocks, and thighs, the results of canings, much more severe than what probably happened last night. There were no wounds to tend, so she wiped his body with a moistened cloth and gently applied analgesic salve. ...
    The bruises would make movement painful for a couple of days, but time and aspirin were the cure. Su Lin helped Mike sit up and ease off the cross, slip into a white terrycloth robe, and then she exited the chamber after lightly touching his cheek. Mike sat on the cross for a few minutes, thinking about and gathering himself for the coming week. I straddled the machine and lowered my butt into the seat. Sliding forward to put my feet in its restraints, I just moved the seat back and forth on the glides as I thought about how I loved the repetitive movement of rowing. It taught you to accept pain and enter a zone where physical and psychological limits were forgotten. God, it had done that for me, after I had left the taunts at the lower school in Dokkum behind. Before, it had been "Rosie the Milk Maid!" over and over. I would run home in tears and ask mom and dad why the teachers didn't make them call me Lieke, after all, that was my name when they took attendance. My parents would tell me that my red hair was beautiful, there was nothing wrong with living on a dairy farm, and the other kids would soon shoot up in height, things I just couldn't hear at the time. Loving their only child, they were also protective and strict. So, when a rowing coach spotted me and thought he could make "Rosie the Giant Clown" into something, I was more than happy to escape the name-calling and my parent's high standards and demands. I now know that I didn't leave it all behind, it continues to ...
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