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Winged Thing

We started with me bent over the couch, my knees on the ground.  After a little bit of a spanking, Master had me move to the floor where I knelt.

“Stay still, I’m making you wings.”

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“Wings?  You are?  I have wings?”

“You’ll see when I’m done.”

So there I sat, somewhat hunchy because the cups hold your skin rather tightly while Master made me a couple of pretty bruised wings.

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After he was done, he peeled them off slowly.  Ouchy, ouchy, mmmm.

He had me kneel up so he could take a picture of my wings.

“You’re my winged thing.”

So creative and pretty.  My wings are darkening in as I type this.  I’ll probably have them for about a week.  Love.