A SAINT IS BORN / PART 3
9th March 2019
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Double feature! MY KINKY SISTER

For sometime now, me and my stunning playmate have been the subject of tall tales and nasty rumours. This is some of what we heard whispered about us:

We always appear when least expected. Taking the back entrance.

We look like sisters, but we never look the same.

We seem to know our victims’ innermost desires, and use this against them.

No one has any idea what we really want.

We are madly in lust.

The jury is still out on the question which one of us is more badass.

Apparently, they also say that the truth is too hot to handle.

The truth? Let me me tell you the truth.

Yes, we are sisters. The twisted sort.

No, we don’t have super powers. Merely a myriad of skills, talents and kinks between us.

We are alike in many ways, but also very, very different.

I am, as you know, a devious wordsmith. Crafting sizzling role-play scenarios really gets me going. Almost as much as expertly wielding my extensive collection of sophisticated torture instruments, striking good looks, CP implements, razor-sharp wit, strap-on cocks and fiendishly difficult missions.

I often employs sexual wiles to get my way. Which sometimes becomes a double edged sword for all involved. Especially while distracted by my kink-sibling’s presence…

Submitting to Miss Kay O http://www.misskayo.co.uk/ is like being caressed by a beautiful shiny pistol. Fully loaded. I like to toy with our prey. Have a giggle. At first, the victim believes that if he cooperates, things would get better. Deliriously better. That I am on his side. Do not be fooled. I’m a martial arts expert, who can, and will, break you by simply flexing my buns. The things I can do with my body to yours defy the laws of nature. Also, you can kiss your balls goodbye.

There is much truth in the rumour we love to attack from behind.

When we pounce, you wouldn’t know what hit you.

We will wrestle you down, toss you around, overpower you with our strong lithe bodies and use yours in whichever ways tickle our fancy. Once you are subdued and panting hard, we will interrogate you ruthlessly. There are no right answers.

Just when you reach the edge of endurance, our breath will become a little laboured. Our pulses faster. Our skins flushed. The pain will stop.

Beware. This isn’t a sign we’re going soft. Only that we have lost interest.

In you, that is.

Bound, gagged, and unable to move a muscle, you will know the meaning of true torture when we turn to each other. Grasping the essence of exquisite agony when we will start playing, inches away from your restrained body.

If you make gasp too loudly, you’ll be hooded. Forced to blindly smell our sweat and arousal, to helplessly listen to ringing slaps and moans of pleasure.

At this point, you’d gnaw your arm off to be able to see, taste, touch.

Tough shit. The cuffs are too tight.

 

Sometimes we will taunt you. Pausing to briefly brush lips, a breast, or a crotch, against your naked, immobilised, body. Perhaps even stroke your engorged cock – then whack it. Or indulge ourselves in a spot of CBT.

Maybe, if you are very good, we will make you our bitch. Our bumboy. Ride your ass and face, trapping you between twin cocks, twin cunts, one of each at both ends.

This would push most over the edge. But I know for a fact that some of you are made of hardier – or greedier – stuff.

If you are a switch, don’t hesitate to ask me what else can happen in our session.

So, can you handle the truth?