“Hey! Let’s take a picture,” she said.
What followed was lots of wriggling around in front of the mirror, trying to get the angle right. We were both as high as kites, having survived horrific beatings with a dungeon-full of fearsome corporal punishment implements. Her man had been doing the beating and he hadn’t messed about. He hadn’t messed about at all.
Her: “That’s no good you can’t see the marks!”
“No. But, Elita, just look at your arse!”
“But what about the marks? Don’t you want to see the bruises?”
“But, Elita, your arse looks magnificent!”
“Well, OK; if you insist then.”
Sadly, we never did get a record of her marks. However, if you want to get an idea of just how impressively marked she was, I suggest you cut out a small part, about 30% should be enough, of my bruised and battered arse from the picture in the post about the session and stick it over hers in the image above.
Yeah. That’ll work.
More, probably less badly beaten, sin here: