The crop

After I wrote my little Fantasy Friday vignette, I thought: Hell. I don't even own a riding crop. 


The reasons for that are varied enough. We're not horse people, we're vegans, we just don't need a lot of extraneous objects, and we have a drawer full of floggers. (flogger addict with no proper place to hang them, hmph)

I did think that I should probably experience what I was writing about. Fantasy can become reality, right? I'm all for more hotness in my life. So I went hunting online, and I finally found a crop that was made from faux leather. Awesome bonus? It was fairly cheap, and purple.

Picking it up from the leasing office was just a tad humiliating, since it's got paper tape sealing both ends of it indicating it's from a horse lover's shop. Hmm. Yes, we go riding on the weekends. Thankfully, the woman there must not have been a horse person either, because she made no attempt to chat with me about horses. Whew. I was surprised, mostly because when you order something from a sex shop they're very very careful with your privacy. This didn't come from a sex shop.

I told my husband about the incident and he said "Clearly it's a gift!"

Well, yeah.

I got it inside while no one was home and the little one was looking the other way. I opened it, admired it, was dismayed when I realized just how long it was. It wouldn't fit in the drawer. After a bit of thought, I tucked it under the mattress at the head of our platform bed.

I promptly forgot about it, and my husband didn't ask about it, though the box was still right there. He hadn't seen it. Perhaps I lost my nerve upon seeing it, or perhaps I just didn't want to force it on him.

Last week, he was fixing the sheets where they had popped off the bed, and he found it.

He spanked me with it, that night. "Look what I found!" he announced as he showed me.

He started off by making me laugh as he ran the tip of the crop across my skin. "Horsie," he breathed out, it sounding both erotic and ridiculous at the same moment coming from his lips. I giggled. It stung as he brought it down across my backside, his arm across the small of my back in bed. We wrestled a little, and I kept laughing as he brought it down again and again, an occasional yelp making it through the laughter.

Then for the real show. He rolled me over. My laughter stilled, and I inhaled and trembled a little. He held me close to him with his free hand and ran the crop over my breast, around my left nipple. My right breast was pressed up close to his body, safe for the moment. He prodded at my nipple with the crop, making it stand up for him, a hard nubbin of aroused flesh, begging to be hurt.

He complied with its pleas, at first lightly tapping to find his target, the swings growing with intensity until he got the desired response from me - little breathless screams on each blow. I clutched at his shoulder with my right hand and then my body started convulsing upwards, trying to writhe away from the pain while my brain just wanted more and more. He waited each time for me to flatten again and arch my breast back up, presenting it for more. Occasionally he hit my breast all around my nipple to give it a break.

When, finally, I screamed much too loudly and took a very long time to arch back up to him, oh, it hurt all right, he nudged me a little to turn more on my back. "Give me your other nipple," he said.

I whimpered. "Uh?" I begged.

"Come on. You didn't think it was safe from this, did you?"

"No sir," I whispered, moving as he'd requested, presenting my right breast for the same treatment. It's moments like that when I really feel the power he has over me, feel myself yield to him. It feels incredible.

He delivered it in the same fashion, hurting my nipple until I was covered in sweat and gasping for air and a pool of arousal ran from between my thighs.

"Look at you," he said once, as my knees came up and my head lifted. I was groaning deeply and shaking for a while before I could lie back down and push my breast back up. When he says that to me it always sort of freezes the moment in my brain. I do, indeed, look at myself.

Oh it was very very hot.

He let me suck his cock afterward, and kept abusing my poor breast even then. Tossing his leg over my shoulder while I suck leaves my breast exposed for him to spank, and he did. The noises I made as he spanked my freshly cropped breast must have felt very good to him, because he kept doing it.

Oh, yes, it felt lovely to me too, I'm sure that had some bearing on it.

The evening continued too, but you don't want to read about that part.

I love this man.

Now I love the crop, too.