I heard the familiar command: “Woman, come here,” and found Himself in the hallway. He arched his eyebrow at me, guided me into the bedroom, bent me over the bed, and swatted me. It was a good swat, a good, solid, THUMP connecting with that sweet spot where your thighs and your ass meet. You know, that spot where the vibrations echo up into your ass and down your legs and across your back and into the deepest recesses of your cunt. Yeh, THAT spot.
I got a few more of those. Six? Ten, maybe? I’m not sure. That sweet spot gets me so subby so fast that I tend to forget (how) to count. My brain got fuzzy and my ass got higher as I relaxed back into my Master’s hand. I felt the moisture gathering between my legs, and I’m pretty sure I was purring.
He stood me up to strip off my dress and tank top, then shimmied down my shorts and panties (unlike The Dom Next Door, Himself prefers a naked ass to practice his happy whackery on) and bent me back over the bed. I closed my eyes as the short heavy leather flogger hit my ass. It was softer than he usually hits me, warm and relaxing, and I could feel ripples spreading out from the impact. Another, and my ass came up a little; another, and up a little more. Before I knew quite how it happened I was standing on my tip-toes, arching my back down and my ass up, reaching for the next blow, greedy, demanding, and impatient. I rolled my hips a little, squeezed my thighs together against my clit, and moaned. Oh yes, oh yes, please, again, right there, oh……
He nudged my feet apart. No, farther. Yes, that’s it, hold it right there. The long heavy leather flogger can hurt like a motherfucker, but he started out light-ish, no pain, and I felt all warm and tingly, across my ass and up my back. But he swung it harder, and harder, and it CRACKED every time it landed. I squealed and moaned and he switched it up and flogged my pussy, not too hard, not too direct, and I jumped but it felt good, I was so wet, just floating out there in happy-sub-space.
I have recently expressed interest in trying a cane. I am terrified of it, and fascinated by it at the same time. Terrified, because goddamn it looks like that hurts like a sumbitch; and fascinated, because goddamn it looks like that hurts like a sumbitch. I’m not at all convinced that my ass has worked up a hide thick enough for a cane…and although I’m developing a taste for pain, I’m not that far into yet. And if we did decide to try it I would want to go slow, really slow, and gentle, because I’ve seen butterfly-kiss taps with a cane leave outrageous stripes. It’s something we would have to work our way into very carefully, and so, I have decided that, for now at least, it will remain a fantasy.
Apparently, Himself did not get that memo.
I got an almighty WHACK across the ass with the riding crop handle. OMFG. Seriously, that pain was just…well…fuck, I don’t even have words. “Took my breath away” is far too mild. It left a line of fire across my ass and I gasped, yowled, and tucked my butt under in the antithesis of my happy-ass-reaching-for-the-blow move. He did it again–WHACK! and I jumped and yowled again. The third time, in almost the same spot, did me in and I screamed. I mean, I SCREAMED. I screamed loud enough to make the dogs, who were in the back yard, start barking. And then he did it again, and I screamed again. Screamed, and cursed.
Himself said, “Well, you said you wanted to try a cane…this is pretty close.” I huffed back, “Not yet! And not that hard!”
So of course, he WHACKED me again, just as hard. Bastard. LOL
He started flicking me with the tip of the crop, which felt like gentle kisses after the handle treatment.
Himself: “Do you like it when I just use the end?”
Me: “Yes, Sir!”
He continued fluttering little crop licks all over my ass and lower back, even my upper legs, and it was feeling good. I started to relax and stick my ass back out, and WHACK! he got me again. I screeched. A screech, in case you don’t know, is several orders of magnitude louder than a scream. I think they probably heard me in downtown Portland.
He chuckled. Goddamn, I am married to an evil, evil man!
He took pity on me, though, and rubbed my poor, abused cheeks. His hand felt really cool; my ass, he said, felt really warm.
Yeah, I knew that, Sir. Thanks for the update though. 😀
He left to let the (still barking) dogs back in the house, and I stood up–well, wobbled up, mostly up, probably canting a bit to the side–to wait for his return. I took the opportunity to rub my ass–man, he wasn’t kidding, it was warm, and then I craned my head around back, and even with my glasses off, I could see the red glow. I smiled. A glowing wench is a happy wench, even if she doesn’t always like the process that got her there.
Dogs taken care of, Himself grabbed a flogger–the short heavy leather flogger, I think–and starting flogging my tits. He wasn’t hitting hard, not yet. In fact, he used this technique where he’s spinning the flogger like a wheel, and so it’s not as constant or as hard as when he makes a direct hit. Damn, it felt good. I felt myself smiling–my goofy, “please Sir, may I have some more” smile. Then he started flogging side to side–right side of right breast, left side of left breast–and it hurt, because the night before, he had smacked my breasts, mostly the right one, with the flat of his hand. They were swinging to and fro and having a good old time and he kept whacking away at them until the right one turned bright pink, and he stopped and said “I think you may have bruises from that.”
Himself knows whereof he speaks; this was me the next day. Purple marks on white skin–aren’t they just beautiful?
So, yeah, the tits were sensitive, and they did not appreciate the heavy flogger, not at all.
But no worries! He switched it up again and started doing the wheelie-thing in reverse, so the tails were hitting the underside of my breasts with a little smack-bounce that made me moan and lean into it. That went on for awhile, with the leather flogger and then the rubber flogger and then back to the leather.
He stopped to flick my nipple, and I gushed. He liked that, so he grabbed the other one too, and started pulling me up, down, forward, and up again, and I gushed some more. By that point I was listing so badly that he had to use them to pull me (more or less) upright.
When I couldn’t stand up anymore, it was time to bend me over again. More happy whackery ensued, until my ass was pleasantly sore, my legs were trembling, and my pussy was dripping.
Himself nudged me up onto the bed, then flipped me over and pulled my butt closer to the edge. He dug through the toys and found a thinnish blue vibe that I haven’t used in ages, handed it to me, and said “Masturbate.” The vibe didn’t seem real promising, considering that what I wanted in me was his cock, which is considerably thicker, but I obeyed the order and started playing.
The thing with vibes is, if you (or, at least, I) use them too early, or too long, they can make….things….numb. Things that you don’t want numb. So when I use one, I wait until I’m getting close before I touch vibe to pussy. And since I wasn’t close yet, I just held it, waiting for The Moment, and got my right hand to work on my clit.
I was enjoying the proceedings when Himself left the room. Um…Now what? Was I supposed to keep going? Or stop and wait? I decided to be a good Marine and Follow The Last Order (inside joke), and I kept going. Scraping sounds, and Himself was back, with…a chair? Yes, a chair. Oh my god, an audience. Gulp!
Now, I’m not shy about masturbating, I do it all the time, and I know he likes to watch. But he’s never set up a chair like that, with a direct line of sight to my cunt, and just…WATCHED. It was very different from having him lay beside me, playing with me or having me suck him while I masturbate. It was much less intimate…and much more so, at the same time. It was weird.
It was also, once I got used to it, a major fucking turn-on. I started doing my best to perform for him, to entertain him, to please him, which got me even hotter. I slid my fingers inside, come-hithering my g-spot, then up to my clit, and back in again. I was getting frustrated that I couldn’t have my fingers in both places at the same time, when I suddenly noticed the vibe buzzing away in my left hand. Oh, right, the vibe! Not my usual pocket vibe or Hitachi, but an actual penis-shaped vibe, specifically designed to fit a hungry cunt. Oh, happy day!
I worked it in and out, pumping a little, trying to find the magic spot…oh, yeah, there it is! I worked my clit with my slick fingers while I worked my pussy with the slick vibe, and the closer I got, the harder and deeper I pushed it, and I was so wet, and so hot, knowing he was watching everything, that I was doing it for HIM, and I remembered that my pleasure belonged to him, my pleasure and my orgasm…and that pushed me right up to the brink.
I gasped out, “Please, can I come, Sir? Please?”
When he said yes, I came like a train. I swear, that orgasm came from my toes and worked itself all the way through my body and out my mouth in a deep, guttural, completely un-ladylike growl. I rode it, and kept stroking, and came again, a little stronger this time. He ordered me to keep going, and I did. Although I can usually keep going and going, like the energizer bunny, these were so deep, so strong, that I was exhausted by the time I got to number four.
But I didn’t stop there, I couldn’t. Not when I could feel number five waiting for me, out of sight, just around the corner, one more orgasm to be wrung from my exhausted, almost satiated body. I knew I could coax it out, and I worked my fingers and that vibe, wanting just…one…more. Please? Please?! Please!!!
Then, oh my god, it hit me. It was like going over Niagara Falls in a barrel: wild, out of control, a little scary, a lot exciting, and ultimately exhausting. I collapsed, panting, eyes closed, vibe forgotten once again, mumbling incoherently, “That’s it…all I’ve got…can’t…anymore…”
I heard clothes falling to the floor and smiled, knowing Himself was coming to join me. I wondered vaguely what we would do next. I was glad I didn’t have to figure it out, since I wasn’t entirely sure I even knew my own name by then.
He kneeled beside me, put my sticky fingers on his cock, and I started stroking it. I forced my eyes open and there we were, eye to eye. Master’s cock and I. It winked at me, which made me happy, so I kissed it. And it tasted good, so I licked it. That tasted even better, so I slid my mouth down over the head and started sucking his lovely, lovely cock.
I turned on my side to get a better angle. Himself cradled my head in his hand until he could get a pillow for me, which I found very sweet–both the cradling, and the pillow-getting. With my head situated I focused on the job at hand (heh) with fervent enthusiasm. He pumped into my mouth and I bobbed back and forth on his cock, very happily, and then he pulled out of my mouth and pushed my face toward his balls. I dove in, lapping and tonguing them–long strokes, short strokes, swirling strokes–while he took his cock in hand. He stroked, I licked, and while I licked, I wiggled, getting farther under him. My tongue stayed busy-busy, licking and lapping, as I scooted back again, and again. He was getting close, I could hear it in the way he breathed, and I slid back again…just a little more…until I reached his taint. He groaned as I licked voraciously, moaning myself, humming a little, because damn, I love licking that spot, the way it feels, the way I know it makes Him feel.
His fist was moving faster, and the very first, early shudders of his body told me it was now or never. One more push and I reached up and slid my tongue into his ass. And that did it, like it always does, it drove him right over the edge and he came, and came hard, panting, shuddering, gasping, and I felt his hot cum hit my tits. I moaned again, and if I hadn’t already exhausted myself I probably would have come again, just from that, the cum on my skin, and licking his ass. I shimmied back out, just in time for him to slide his still-dripping cock back into my mouth. I sucked him and licked him until he shuddered one last time and pulled out of me.
As he got up to shower, I smiled happily and mumbled “I’m just going to stay here and bask in the afterglow, if that’s okay with you.”
It was, and I did.