Cinnamin Gets Sugared

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Cinnamin Gets Sugared

Cinnamon Gets Sugared!

I’d been acheing for weeks to meet a new friend, a sexy little wench who goes by the name Cinnamon. What a doll, a figure to die for, eyes that sparkle with the magic crystals of life. And such a sexy mind, full of the most lustful juice of her ever quick wit and tongue. Cinnamon wanted something special, a diversion from the ordinary and of course, I had the most lovely idea for her!

I’ve always thought there was a bit of lesbian in Cinnamon, but like a lot of people she was unable to go through with the actual act of making same sex love. To give my precious new friend a taste of that without actually doing it was a specialty of mine, and I had just the third person in mind to help us.

Deniece Edwina Rose is special friend of mine, a pre-operative Trans-sexual living her dream of becoming a woman but still having her male parts. And oh my, does Deniece know how to use those special parts! I’d tasted Deniece’s pleasant delights before, licked and fingered her softest spots, suckled the very nature of her lovely soul. Deniece’s passion for leather was an added treat, and of course when she and I made our wicked plans for Cinnamon’s “lesbian” de-flowering we decided it best to not let Cinnamon get the full picture of our evil plans. I knew Cinnamon trusted me, her faith would now be tested in a way that would also test her very lovely femininity as well.

I arrived at Deniece’s house early, we supped and talked of our plan, aftewards I quickly dressed for our little play-fair. Deniece had already prepared, her lovely thin frame bespeckled with a special black leather mini-skirt highlighted by rows of diamonds that started just below her breasts and ended just where every male she knows loves to place his tongue. The curves of her breasts were so enhanced by the dress; her cleavage brought a real spark to my own girlish parts. Deniece had also donned her special black Cuban thigh high hose, the seam down the back of those curvaceous legs was not ignored by me as she walked towards her play room. I had decided to wear a light pink dress, simple, elegant and sissy, easy to get out of when the time came. My panties were white; a pretty red rose sat just above my sweet spot. It was funny; normally Deniece is a person who loves to chat about her panties, tonight not one word. Maybe I was just to excited to notice, or even care. I had that wonderfully special feeling I always get when I’m around Deniece so it just didn’t matter. I figured I’d find out what was down there soon enough.

Cinnamon arrived as expected, wearing a tastefully white full-length velvet pantsuit. It was easy to see why she chose that garment, it’s full length zipper was made for easy removal and it’s tight body hugging design showed everyone what had been intended when the female form was invented. A deliciously yummy sight, a pleasure to see!

We took Cinnamon hand in hand, and led her down the corridor to Deniece’s playroom. We could sense her excitement, her air of urgency at seeing what pleasures awaited her. Through her outfit her nipples rose from that air, her step was lively, her breath quick.

The lighting was dim, the room lit only by two candles several feet away from a rectangular table near the middle. From above each corner of this table hung a single white rope, attached to supports on the ceiling. When Cinnamon saw the table and the ropes you could just feel her skin tense and her eyes glaze, there came over her what could only be described as a feeling of anxiety. And that is what Deniece wanted, she wanted to heighten within Cinnamon that feeling of having to surrender to another in any way chosen. I was there as a guiding hand for Cinnamon, a comfortable and reassuring presence that told her that she would not be hurt in any way other than what was meant to bring her pleasure.

From each side of Cinnamon Deniece and I began to slowly remove her pantsuit, an inch at a time, each finger gently caressing another little bit of her silky white skin as we went. Cinnamon’s full breasts were quickly exposed, her nipples so aware of the touch we gave them, the feeling of our eyes upon them. Then her tummy, her hips, and with a quick motion the pantsuit dropped to the floor to reveal to us the true beauty and magnificence of her feminine form. From my loins, and certainly from Deniece’s, came a rush of blood to our ever hardening shafts, the sight of Cinnamon’s lovely shaved pussy was almost too much to stand.

We gently led our little lamb to the table, helping her mount it as if she was mounting a lover, face downward looking to the floor. Flat on the table was her position, one designed to make each of Deniece’s strokes find their mark, her legs spread wide to allow Deniece full vision of Cinnamon’s lusciously ample posterior. Now I, at the front, and Deniece, at the rear, tugged and pulled the ropes to their position at each of Cinnamon’s feet and hands. We would tightly bond Cinnamon to the table, her escape not possible while we gazed upon her naked body. From the ceiling above her head was suspended a special mask, one designed to cover and hold Cinnamon’s head up but allow easy access to her precious red lips. The mask blinded her, constricted her head slightly, but did not interfere with her ability to take her breath. Now I could see and feel the fear in her; I looked deeply into her eyes before placing the mask, she and I both knew there was no stopping now. She knew she was going to receive the lash, and she feared it; but she did not complain of it because she knew her lover was here to guide her. She also knew that she would have our sex, and we hers. The table was set, and now Deniece and I would dine upon the pleasures of Cinnamon’s heavenly female form.

From a cabinet Deniece now chose the instruments of Cinnamon’s deflowering. A paddle, shaped and curved to fit the curves of the human buttock; a 12 inch leather whip, it’s biting edges so obvious to the eye; and a special little tool, a silver handled leather punch wheel that Deniece would use when the redness and heat of Cinnamon’s skin were ready for it’s piercing ways.

I stood at the ready, my panties removed to allow my hardness to show, its scent flowing to Cinnamon’s nose. Deniece, at Cinnamon’s rear, lifted her skirt to let me see what I had wondered of earlier; to my pleasant surprise Deniece had worn no panties, and now her blood rich cock stood out in the candlelight like a beacon of sexuality in the darkness of an erotic sea.

Deniece’s first touch was gentle, allowing Cinnamon to feel the smoothness of the paddle’s face. Now, without warning, came her first strike, delivered with a tempered but firm touch straight to Cinnamon’s right buttock. Another, and another, and then another, each harder than the last! The blows came quicker, then subsided so that Deniece could best gauge her new submissive’s ability to handle the pain. There were whimpers from her yes, but they were gentle whimpers of the pleasure she was beginning to feel as her body’s own d**gs began to take effect.

Deniece now began a gentle paddling of Cinnamon with her hands, first left, then right, then in unison with Cinnamon as she moved her butt to meet Deniece’s hands. I was motioned to Deniece’s side at Cinnamon’s rear, to aid and assist in finding Cinnamon’s threshold. I would strike first, then Deniece; a quick use of the paddle would follow as we watched Cinnamon’s gorgeously smooth buttocks turning the bright red color of her hot blood. From between her legs came a glistening, we both knew that Cinnamon’s sexual feelings were boiling within; her female fluids were coating the inside of her vagina with the lubricant of sex. The time was right; the whip was at the ready of Deniece’s steely grasp. I was instructed back to Cinnamon’s mouth, there to place the purple head of my masculinity at her lips, ready to plunge ahead with a glance from Deniece. Her first blow of the whip came hard, to Cinnamon’s right shoulder blade. Then to the left as Cinnamon’s cries became more pronounced. My cue came as expected, just as Deniece let go another whip of the lash. “Do it bitch, do it!” said Deniece. “Shove your cock in her mouth now, make this sissy feel the blood that pulsates inside your filthy veins!” It was the moment I had waited for so long, the moment when I would finally feel the soft warm wetness of Cinnamon’s lovely painted lips around the firmness of my shaft.

I had wanted this; I had wanted to fuck face this submissive for so long. And now, as Deniece wielded her ever quickening blows to Cinnamon’s beet red back and buttocks I fucked faster and harder. Cinnamon took it all, the feel of her tongue against my cock so fabulously rich, so wonderfully warm. Orgasm was at hand but Deniece had ordered me not to cum too quickly as she had her plans, her way of bringing both Cinnamon and I to finality at just the right moment. Withdrawing now I could sense something from Deniece, a lust for the moment that I hadn’t seen before in her. Deniece was a lover of mine, a special guiding hand for me in the ways of love found in the lash. Now I saw something new and exciting, expressed directly to me in her eyes. A moment of rest followed, I carefully saw to Cinnamon to be sure she was OK, that what she felt was the pleasure of the sting, not the fear of the hurt caused by it. She assured me that all was well, and that we should continue as her juices had become a raging flood of passion within her veins.

Deniece returned shortly, a bucket in one hand, that special silver tool in the other. Even in the dim light I could still see Deniece’s excitement at what was to come, her hardness was so wonderfully evident. It was one thing I have always loved about Deniece, the way she is able to keep herself so hard for so long, and hold the desire within her for sexual release at just the proper moment.

In this bucket was ice, a cooling influence, and one of stark contrast to the sharp edge of the lash. I could sense Cinnamon’s anticipation, her readying her body for more of what she had received before. It came from Deniece’s hands yes, but more subdued now, more of gentle whack with the hand so as to bring Cinnamon’s boiling point back to where she had been before. Now, and with such surprise Deniece’s hands filled with ice and she spread it quickly to Cinnamon’s flaming red skin. And that tool, down it went to Cinnamon’s spine, rolling up and down and spiking ever so gently into her, tickling every inch, bringing Cinnamon’s female fluids to the dripping stage! I knew that Cinnamon’s wetness would be so inviting to Deniece, and I knew that she would soon have her way within Cinnamon’s wet folds.

I was ordered back to Cinnamon’s mouth, Deniece wanted to see the desire I had to fuck Cinnamon’s face, to see the look in my eyes as I came so close to orgasm. Now the surprise for Cinnamon really began, as Deniece quickly and forcefully plunged herself deep within her raging cunt, jammed hard and fast and as far in as she could. I watched Deniece intently at this moment; I longed for her permission to release my white-hot sperm. Even as muffled as Cinnamon was with my cock in her mouth and the mask around her face it was so easy to tell she was reaching her own finality. Her body exploded violently, up, then down, twisting with the delight of Deniece’s furious thrusts, her mouth sucking ever harder on my stiff cock.

I knew it, I knew it was happening for Deniece and I just couldn’t hold any longer. Looking down I grabbed Cinnamon’s face and removed the blinds on her eyes so she could watch as well as feel the explosion of my orgasm in her submissive mouth. To taste from me on her tongue what her pussy tasted now from Deniece. The v******e and electricity of my shivers of cum went straight through Cinnamon, straight from her tongue to her pussy’s tight grip on Deniece’s exploding cock. From me through her, entering directly through Deniece’s cock, up her spine, intensifying and magnifying her orgasm to such a degree as I have never seen happen within anyone before or since.

There is a certain “collapse” after orgasm, a warm glow that you feel after that explosive release. Cinnamon had tasted our love for the lash, our desire for sexual pleasure, and now she would feel the touch of soft kindness as we released her bindings. The three of us, now exhausted and spent, so red and so warm, lay down upon the carpet in each other’s loving embrace. Those hugs, after such an intense experience, are an orgasm of the soul every bit as powerful as those that are made of the physical body. They are the hugs of love and human companionship, and now Cinnamon knows them ever so well!

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