Proof, Again, Of Power

A masked German masochist crawls to a 'St Andrews' cross, mounts and holds.

The Domme, short-cropped hair and no-nonsense, firm, directive voice, canes him.

She canes his thighs with a deft touch, forearm- and wrist-flicks.

He reddens with such marks, ultimately quivering with weakened muscles.

We watch him so punished, so professionally handled, so weak-willed and needful.

By the end, his uncircumcised penis -- hardly aroused by this working-over, nevertheless -- bloats its size a bit, fills with residual, exhausted . . . satisfaction.

We've watched, fascinated, counting the blows on the soft, sensitive parts of our own desire.

Degradation becomes a blessing.


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