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Welcome To Shell: domme humiliation - Belly Punching Her Bitch

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Frank longs for the familiar weight of his beloved training collar around his neck. It's more than just a piece of leather; it's a symbol of his submission to his favorite mistress, Miss Shell. The collar represents the power dynamics he craves, the control she holds over him, and the pleasure he derives from being used and manipulated by her. But Miss Shell is a cruel mistress, and she won't simply hand over the collar without making Frank earn it. She has a particular method in mind for this session, one that will test his limits and push him to the brink of his endurance. As Frank enters the dimly lit Shell Den, he can already feel the anticipation building within him. He knows what's in store for him, and he can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and dread. Miss Shell stands before him, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. 'You want your collar back, don't you, Frank? Then you must earn it. And by earning, I mean you must take in and survive the relentless barrage of belly punching.' Miss Shell hands him the collar and instructs him to bite down on it. And if he ever slips it off of his mouth, he'll be submitted to more painful and powerful belly punches. And he sure definitely won't like that. As Frank trembles, his beloved collar clenched between his teeth, he braces himself for the relentless onslaught of Miss Shell's merciless belly punches - a brutal test of endurance and submission that will push him to the very edge of his limits, all in the pursuit of reclaiming the cherished symbol of his servitude. His hands are already bound high above his head, leaving him completely vulnerable to her attacks. He can feel the cold metal of the collar against his teeth as he bites down, the leather rough against his tongue. Miss Shell steps back and begins to circle him, her eyes roaming over his exposed torso. Frank's chest is already heaving with nervous anticipation, his eyes tearing up as he waits for the first blow to fall. Without warning, Miss Shell's fist slams into Frank's belly, the power of the impact causing him to double over in pain. He groans, his chest twitching as he struggles to catch his breath. What's worse is it's just the beginning for the mistress as she simply won't stop until she's milked every last ounce of fear and submission from him. One solid punch after another rains down on Frank's abdomen, each blow more painful than the last. His belly begins to turn red and sore, the skin growing tender under the relentless punches. Frank can barely breathe, his chest convulsing as he fights to stay conscious. Miss Shell pauses for a moment, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. She reaches for her whips, their soft feather-like edges contrasting sharply with the hard fists she had been using. She runs them lightly over Frank's aching tummy, eliciting a soft moan from him. But the respite is short-lived as she begins to hit the whips against Frank's belly with increasing power. The soft edges become weapons, their impact causing Frank to cry out in pain. Her fists are next, warmed up and ready to deliver the most brutal blows yet, punching Frank's tummy with all her might, her knuckles cracking against his flesh. Frank's diaphragm feels as though it is about to rip apart, his body wracked with pain. Through it all, Miss Shell's eyes remain fixed on Frank's face, observing as he writhes in agony, his body twitching and convulsing under her relentless beating. She delights in his suffering, recognizing that she is instilling a profound lesson of submission and obedience within him. His belly is a canvas of bruises and welts, his breath a series of ragged gasps. Despite the pain, he comprehends that he will return to the Shell Den, eager to surrender to Miss Shell's cruel whims once more. For Frank, the collar signifies not merely a symbol of subservience but a testament to his resilience and his willingness to endure for the pleasure of his mistress. As long as he adorns it, he remains hers to command, body and soul.

Date: November 18, 2025