She was nineteen.
Petting her wet panties, Nairobia gave the lovers one last glance, then reined in her growing desire to join them. Ordo Rosarius Equilibrio sang about tying a lover to a chair, kissing her neck and pulling her hair as Nairobia passed the pool with its shimmering blue water. An array of colorful, sordid sex played out in and around the pool.
Yes, my darling, Nairobia mused, licking her lips as she swayed her hips toward the passageways. Show me the secrets of the tortured garden.
The Love Tomb was more than a playground for kink. It was where pain and pleasure swirled into one. Each chamber held a St. Andrews Cross, a rack, bondage cuffs, an X-bar, several spreader bars, and more painfully delicious assortments of kink equipment. Vanilla play was not ever allowed down in the Love Tomb.
A guttural moan from one of the chambers drew Nairobia’s attention, and she moved toward the direction of the deafening sound. Inside there was a beautiful woman the color of maple syrup wearing nothing but a black thong and knee-high leather boots. In one hand she held a flogger. In the other, a leather paddle.
A mocha-colored Latina was hoisted up in a sex sling, legs spread, knees bent. Her husband was bent over and tied down to a spanking bench. His skin was sweating, his face etched in burning pleasure.
Swoosh!
Maple Syrup delivered a stinging kiss to the sexy Latina’s cunt causing her to scream out, her head snapping back. Nairobia found herself staring delightfully at the sight of her juices pooling out of her slit.
Nairobia licked her lips, imagining herself licking into the Latina’s sweet, tangy cunt sauce to soothe her, to bathe her searing labia with wet laps of her tongue.
Swoosh!
More screaming. More arching. The Latina was awash in pain, bathing in pain, scorching in pain, breathing in pain. Swoosh! Maple Syrup’s flogger went down across her sex again, and her hips thrust up to greet the flames. An exquisite burn that singed followed the sting into her swollen sex. Passion boiled up into the pit of her pussy, then burst out the tip of her clit.
Her slit flared open and juices spurted out.
Her husband groaned as he lifted his head and fought against the restraints, and the pain.
Whap!
He yelped.
Maple Syrup swung the paddle across his ass, its heat dancing over his reddened flesh. His cock pulsed, pre-cum leaking from its slit. Nairobia licked her lips at the exquisite welts spreading over his skin. Fluid dripped from the tip of his dick. And Nairobia longed to slink into the chamber and lick the wet streaks of pre-cum on the leather bench.
Mr. Paddle Prints growled, and raised his ass higher, pleading for more. Maple Syrup gave it to him harder, faster.
Whap!
Whap!
Pop!
He gritted his teeth—his ass a bright, blistery red, tears springing from his eyes. The ache in his cock amplified the throbbing across his ass. Maple Syrup whacked him again. Spittle flew out of his mouth as he begged for more.
Whap!
Whap!
Nairobia’s cunt clenched with each strike of the paddle as it struck across his ass like lightning. And then Maple Syrup was back in front of his wife, her flogger up over her head, bringing it down over and around.
Swoosh!
The Latina cried out as the lashes bit into her clit, the suede ribbons slapping into her sex as “Glory To Thee, My Beloved Masturbator” played over her moans.
Maple Syrup pushed the Latina’s thighs wide and opened her up with her fingers. She leaned in and licked the nectar that flowed out from her slit while her husband looked on in sweet agony. She lapped at her, sucked in her sensitive nub until she panted.
Her husband groaned, lifting himself, pumping his hips in the air until his cock thudded upward. He pressed his hips against the bench and ground his horny cock into the leather until he orgasmed.
Maple Syrup abandoned the Latina’s pussy long enough to deliver three more rapid strikes across her husband’s ass. The man cried out, his hips pumping a mile a minute. “Aaaaah, aaaaah…uhhhh…! I’m coming!”
More semen spurted out of his cock, and Nairobia’s mouth instantly watered. The sight of his gushing milk made her think back to a movie’d she starred in back in her earlier porn-star days, Cum Gushers. She’d been encircled by ten men—five white, three black, and two Latino—who jerked their cocks until they were hosing her down in thick streams of their warm, sticky cock cream in her face, over her breasts, in her mouth.
Groans reaching an ear-splitting crescendo snatched Nairobia from her reverie, and forced her to look over toward another chamber. Drawn to the cacophony of sound, she sauntered over and peered inside.
There on an unforgiving wood floor, a strawberry blonde knelt between the legs of a deliciously dark-tanned Italian, his muscled back and ass covered in raised welts on his otherwise spotless flesh. He’d been flogged with a knotted leather flog that left his back a crisscrossed mess of welts.