An American tourist in Shanghai contacted me, craving a taboo session in a church — a place of purity that would soon bear witness to his surrender. The thrill of corrupting such a sacred space stirred something deep within me, so I carefully designed a scene that would test his restraint and devotion.
I arrived prepared, carrying soft satin ribbons in my bag, their delicate texture contrasting the cold, rigid pews. As we sat together on one of the wooden chairs in the church, I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. “Are you ready to sin for me?” I whispered. He nodded, his breathing already unsteady.
I pulled his arms behind his back and began to bind his wrists together, the silk gliding over his skin as I secured the knots — tight enough to restrict him, but loose enough to remind him that his struggle would only deepen his submission. He exhaled shakily, already slipping into the mindset of a restrained disciple awaiting my next move.
Satisfied with my work, I pulled him into my arms, holding him close, feeling his body tense against mine. His vulnerability, his obedience, his silent anticipation — they all fueled my hunger for control. I let my fingers drift downward, teasing the buttons of his shirt before slipping my hand inside, tracing slow, deliberate circles around his nipples.
He gasped. I tightened my grip on his bound wrists. “Shhh,” I warned, my voice a sultry whisper. “We wouldn’t want anyone hearing, would we?” My nails grazed over his sensitive flesh, pinching, rolling, teasing until his body trembled against me. He bit his lip, struggling to stay quiet as pleasure and pain mixed in perfect torment.
I smirked, leaning in just enough for him to feel my breath on his neck. “Good boy,” I murmured. “But it is just the beginning”
shanghai-bdsm.blogspot.com
I arrived prepared, carrying soft satin ribbons in my bag, their delicate texture contrasting the cold, rigid pews. As we sat together on one of the wooden chairs in the church, I leaned in close, my lips brushing his ear. “Are you ready to sin for me?” I whispered. He nodded, his breathing already unsteady.
I pulled his arms behind his back and began to bind his wrists together, the silk gliding over his skin as I secured the knots — tight enough to restrict him, but loose enough to remind him that his struggle would only deepen his submission. He exhaled shakily, already slipping into the mindset of a restrained disciple awaiting my next move.
Satisfied with my work, I pulled him into my arms, holding him close, feeling his body tense against mine. His vulnerability, his obedience, his silent anticipation — they all fueled my hunger for control. I let my fingers drift downward, teasing the buttons of his shirt before slipping my hand inside, tracing slow, deliberate circles around his nipples.
He gasped. I tightened my grip on his bound wrists. “Shhh,” I warned, my voice a sultry whisper. “We wouldn’t want anyone hearing, would we?” My nails grazed over his sensitive flesh, pinching, rolling, teasing until his body trembled against me. He bit his lip, struggling to stay quiet as pleasure and pain mixed in perfect torment.
I smirked, leaning in just enough for him to feel my breath on his neck. “Good boy,” I murmured. “But it is just the beginning”
shanghai-bdsm.blogspot.com
