"Turn over so I can beat you," he says. We've just been chatting on the bed and it's pretty late.
"Don't you mean turn over so we can go to sleep?" I ask.
"No... turn over so I can beat you," he repeats.
I turn over. I know better than to argue further. "I like my idea better," I sass into the pillow.
"Sure you do," he says, knowing I lie through my teeth. He shoves my shirt up halfway my back, smacks my ass with his hand until I yelp. Then he starts flogging me with a soft lovely caressing flogger that makes me sigh with pleasure. "You like that, girl?" he asks.
I do.
He switches - a hard thudding flogger that makes me yelp as it thumps into me. "You like THAT, girl?" he asks.
I do.
He switches again. I lose track. I can feel my ass warming up as he keeps switching floggers. When he switches back to the lovely soft one, it actually hurts a little.
"Oh, this ass is starting to be a nice shade of red," he says.
He uses the crop on me after I am already red. The tops of my thighs get special attention. I lift my ass into it, as the pain transmutes into pleasure, as the burn makes me wet.
He finishes soon after the crop - first his hand smacks into me a few times for good measure.
"Be naked," he says, and so I am.
He kisses me, pulls me to him, lets his hands wander over my body. His teeth find my nipple, bite it until I squeal with pleasure/pain, and then his hands are spanking my breasts, making me moan.
His fingers wander between my thighs, find the incredible wetness there, tease me. He spanks my inner thighs with his hand, over and over, covering all of the flesh there until it burns and I try to close my legs. He knocks them apart and continues spanking them. I close them again, he knocks them apart - three, four times.
I am moaning, my thighs are burning, and he starts slapping my pussy. My soaking wet pussy that wants him to fuck it. He slaps at an angle, into my mound, and I am halfway to an orgasm already. It feels amazing until it starts to hurt. I whimper. "Am I hurting your poor pussy?" he asks, his voice dripping with false concern.
"Yes," I squeal as he slaps me there again.
"Does your pussy want me?" he asks. He stops slapping me, lets his fingers stroke my clit - my throbbing, needy clit. I moan.
"Yes," I murmur. It's bloody obvious anyway.
"Does your mouth want me?" he continues.
"Yes," I answer.
"Does your ass want me?" he finishes.
I moan.
"What a slut that makes you. My slut," he growls into my ear, his hand tugging on my hair.
"Get on top of me," he says, and so I do. Carnal magic. He conjures sex.
My clit grinds against him as I rock. It's too much, too good.
"You're coming, aren't you? Yeah, fuck yeah, come for me," he says, and I must.
"You want to get off me?" he asks, later, knowing my arms must be tired.
I don't.
"I'll still fuck you," he promises. "Or maybe you'd like to suck my cock?"
I moan.
"Yeah. You want this hard, wet cock fucking your face, don't you?" He slaps my ass, forces me to rock atop him, and I am coming again as he talks.
My wrists are complaining and so I lift off him, slide down between his legs, take the slick hardness of him in my mouth. He is salty, sweet, intoxicating, all the arousal he has generated in me making him taste like that.
My wrists don't like this either, after a while. I roll to my side, and he is in my mouth again, fucking into my throat, holding my head. I start to pull away - it is too much, my throat hurts, my stomach isn't sure how it feels - but he grabs me, holds me, is fucking my face regardless. I know if I could get a word in he would stop, but at the moment I don't want to get a word in.
"Turn over so I can fuck your ass," he orders, pulling his cock from my mouth. He slaps my face with his cock - with his hard, heavy cock. It surprises me and I squeal. He does it again. He likes to make me squeal. Finally he stops, and I whimper as I obey. It's been a long time since we've had anal sex. I try to relax, but that's like trying not to think about something; it doesn't work that well.
His fingers are cool and slippery and feel nice when they touch my tiny hole, but I am so sensitive that I shriek, squirming away a little. He holds me still, slides his fingers deep inside me there. It feels amazing.
He stops, too soon. To take so long with sex in general and yet to rush this part feels so wasteful. His cock presses against me now, and I groan. It's not going to work.
"Give me that ass," he growls, and that sends a rush of heat through me. I try. I push back on him, but it's not going to work. He adds lube, but it's like his cock hit a wall, and as I wriggle, almost-but-not-quite-impaled on the end of his cock, I feel him softening, losing the rigidity that is a must to enter this particular territory.
Not easily discouraged from sex in general, he pulls away to replace his cock with his fingers. They slide inside my ass, inside my pussy, fuck me in both places at once. I scream with the pure joy of it. He adds even more lube. "I think your ass likes that," he says as I moan deeply, helplessly. "I think I should find something to plug it with."
It takes him a moment to locate, but he finds it: The Big End. SO BIG. I am on my belly as he presses it in, and I moan. "You can take it," he says, knowing he's put it there before. I scream as it finally passes the largest part, locking itself inside me. I am panting, but then his fingers are stroking my clit, sliding inside my pussy. I am screaming again because I am so sensitive and I am coming, again, again, again."Oh my God," I beg as I try to catch a breath between orgasms, but that is all he lets me say before he wriggles his finger and makes me come again, again, again.
I am twisting, sweating, panting. I can't. "I can't," I pant, but he is not about to let me finish a thought. More, more, more. I scream and I come and come and come. I feel his cock hardening against my thigh as my screams lengthen and grow hoarser.
"You can't what, girl? Can't stop? Who said you could stop?" he asks. His finger drives me insane and makes me scream until I think I might explode.
"I am going to fuck you," he whispers into my ear. "Right after I'm done making you come."
I writhe. I am a fuck puppet, nothing but a neverending orgasm, a helpless mass of twitching nerve endings.
"Turn over and give me your pussy," he finally says. I can barely breathe, much less move. I claw at the mattress to help me turn over on my side.
His cock slides into me - forces its way into me. "SO FULL!" I exclaim as he slowly drives into me.
"So mine," he growls. "So nice of you to stop coming for a second so I could get my cock in you." He grabs me, and begins to thrust into me in earnest, moving my body against him like a rag doll. "But if you still want to come, don't let me stop you," he says, fucking into me harder. The plug is forcing his cock into my g-spot and it doesn't take long before I am screaming again, a final orgasm ripping through me. I squeal helplessly as it shakes me, and he makes a noise - a contented hunter's noise, as he fucks me right into his own climax.
"You're so fucking incredible," I whisper hoarsely as his arm around my waist pulls me closer to him, as I gather enough energy for actual words. My mind is blown.
"You're pretty incredible yourself," he says.
As long as he wants to, I'll let him keep thinking that.
Showing posts with label riding crop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label riding crop. Show all posts
Monday, February 11, 2013
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Finally flogged
I posted my blue and white flogger a while ago, the one that I gifted to my husband. It was only this week that we finally got around to more than a perfunctory test flogging with it. In fact, someone else bought, received, and used one just like it before we ever got around to using ours. But it was worth the wait.
I loved it. The knots were perfect, thudding into my flesh, bouncing away. The ends were silky soft; he even used it as a tickler to make me moan with pleasure. He worked my ass and the backs of my thighs to a rosy glow that I could feel, and then he applied the spoon deliciously, making me squirm, writhe, generally having an awesome time while little gasps and moans emerged from my mouth.
He followed the spoon with the crop, tap-tap-tapping little bites all over, and it was just a fabulous spanking. I was panting when he finished, trailing the ends of the flogger over my sensitive skin. While what he said next was a little bit of a surprise, it shouldn't have been. "Turn over and suck my cock. You're not the only one who likes to feel good, you know."
I drew a ragged breath, pulling oxygen into my lungs, gathering the physical strength to turn over. After the flogging, the spoon, and the crop, I needed a moment to collect myself. I turned over slowly, moving down as I did, and his cock was in my face. I opened my mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to it, relishing the velvety feel of his foreskin against my face. Oh, right, I love sucking his cock. I moaned softly as I slid my mouth onto him, and my brain disengaged. Just sucking, listening to his words, rolling my tongue, working my throat.
In my excitement I kept tugging on his hips, drawing him as far into me as I could, and one of the tugs had him over my face, kneeling above me and fucking down into my mouth. "What a good fuckhole your face is for me," he said, tugging on my hair, his hands pressing down on my forehead, leaving me unable to do anything but take his hardness. I moaned at the helplessness of the position, at his words, my hands flopping uselessly off to the side, unsure what to do with themselves until they landed on his thighs. I squeezed his legs as he fucked my face.
"Is your pussy ready to be fucked?" he asked me roughly, the head of his cock moving slowly in the entrance of my throat, soft gagging noises coming from me due to the motion. I managed to turn one of the noises into a fervent positive.
"You think you can get on the ramp and be fucked?"
"Nnnnn," I said around the cock filling my mouth. Late, tired, ugh.
"Of course you can," he answered for me, ignoring my actual response. He pulled away and I chased his cock with my mouth. "Cockslut, it's really hard for you to let go of that cock, isn't it?" I groaned, pinned by his words, letting my head fall back again. He stood next to the bed, put the Liberator ramp on it, and I went after his shiny hard cock with my mouth again, moaning happily as this position put more of his cock in me with less stress. He pulled my hair, fucking my face, eliciting squeals of delight that vibrated all along the length of his hardness. "You think you're clever, don't you? This isn't your pussy."
He pulled me into him, forcing more and more of his cock into my willing throat. It burned as it opened my throat even more than it had previously. "Turn around and let me fuck your pussy now," he ordered, thrusting into my face a few final times.
I turned around slowly, my muscles resisting as I lifted my ass, presenting my pussy for his penetration. He sank inside me with a long, slow stroke and we groaned in unison. "Oh, fuck, yes," I gasped as he filled me, stretching me open.
Pleasure. Pure pleasure, enhanced by the slight amount of pain being stretched so far, pounded so hard, overtook me, and I was a constant moan, "Oh fuck," escaping from me with every other breath.
His hands found their way underneath my torso and he slapped my breasts, first one then the other. "Mine!" he said when I moaned with delighted pain, perhaps a touch of indignity coloring my tone.
"Yours," I agreed, whether loudly or softly I had no way of gauging. My arms gave out after an extended period, and I dropped to my elbows, my ass still lifted high for his cock to slide into my pussy.
"Oooh, I should fuck this ass," he mused, running his thumb across my hole that must have been exposed due to the position I was in. I groaned, both excited and a little concerned by the prospect. "Shouldn't I? You want that don't you? Of course you do," he answered his own question as I continued groaning, overwhelmed. "Get me the lube."
I moved to do so, but as I moved the ramp tried to fall over. "Nuh-uh," I murmured, trying to adjust myself so the ramp stayed on the bed. "What you mean, nuh-uh? Get the lube!" he repeated himself. I did, returning, still dealing with the problem and making muttery noises. "Too much complaining!"
"This is falling," I whispered.
"Fix it, then," he said, squeezing lube onto his fingers. I planted my feet on the floor, pressing my ass into his cock as I wriggled to move the ramp back into place. He humped against me, making me moan. His fingers were lubing my ass even as I climbed back up into the hands-and-knees position.
As his cock penetrated my ass, I fell forward, crying out. It wasn't even an overwhelming sensation, just my own fear that it would be. "Get up," he barked, and something else I couldn't hear for my breathing was heavy, catching in my chest and coming out in gasps, I was so terribly excited that I could only hear half the things he was saying.
Then he was buried in my ass, pulling my hair back toward him with one hand, his other hand pressing and squeezing my throat, making me gasp with arousal. Oh, wow. "Oh, fuck," I kept keening softly as we rocked together, my ass stretched taut around his cock that was so engorged I hadn't been able to believe it when I was sucking it.
He came loudly, nearly collapsing against my back, pulling me up into him. I breathed heavily, great gasps of air filling my lungs. Eventually we managed to shove the ramp away and curl up into each other, whispering words of appreciation for one another.
He is magnificent, even though I lack the time to write about it all the time, and I am so grateful.
I loved it. The knots were perfect, thudding into my flesh, bouncing away. The ends were silky soft; he even used it as a tickler to make me moan with pleasure. He worked my ass and the backs of my thighs to a rosy glow that I could feel, and then he applied the spoon deliciously, making me squirm, writhe, generally having an awesome time while little gasps and moans emerged from my mouth.
He followed the spoon with the crop, tap-tap-tapping little bites all over, and it was just a fabulous spanking. I was panting when he finished, trailing the ends of the flogger over my sensitive skin. While what he said next was a little bit of a surprise, it shouldn't have been. "Turn over and suck my cock. You're not the only one who likes to feel good, you know."
I drew a ragged breath, pulling oxygen into my lungs, gathering the physical strength to turn over. After the flogging, the spoon, and the crop, I needed a moment to collect myself. I turned over slowly, moving down as I did, and his cock was in my face. I opened my mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to it, relishing the velvety feel of his foreskin against my face. Oh, right, I love sucking his cock. I moaned softly as I slid my mouth onto him, and my brain disengaged. Just sucking, listening to his words, rolling my tongue, working my throat.
In my excitement I kept tugging on his hips, drawing him as far into me as I could, and one of the tugs had him over my face, kneeling above me and fucking down into my mouth. "What a good fuckhole your face is for me," he said, tugging on my hair, his hands pressing down on my forehead, leaving me unable to do anything but take his hardness. I moaned at the helplessness of the position, at his words, my hands flopping uselessly off to the side, unsure what to do with themselves until they landed on his thighs. I squeezed his legs as he fucked my face.
"Is your pussy ready to be fucked?" he asked me roughly, the head of his cock moving slowly in the entrance of my throat, soft gagging noises coming from me due to the motion. I managed to turn one of the noises into a fervent positive.
"You think you can get on the ramp and be fucked?"
"Nnnnn," I said around the cock filling my mouth. Late, tired, ugh.
"Of course you can," he answered for me, ignoring my actual response. He pulled away and I chased his cock with my mouth. "Cockslut, it's really hard for you to let go of that cock, isn't it?" I groaned, pinned by his words, letting my head fall back again. He stood next to the bed, put the Liberator ramp on it, and I went after his shiny hard cock with my mouth again, moaning happily as this position put more of his cock in me with less stress. He pulled my hair, fucking my face, eliciting squeals of delight that vibrated all along the length of his hardness. "You think you're clever, don't you? This isn't your pussy."
He pulled me into him, forcing more and more of his cock into my willing throat. It burned as it opened my throat even more than it had previously. "Turn around and let me fuck your pussy now," he ordered, thrusting into my face a few final times.
I turned around slowly, my muscles resisting as I lifted my ass, presenting my pussy for his penetration. He sank inside me with a long, slow stroke and we groaned in unison. "Oh, fuck, yes," I gasped as he filled me, stretching me open.
Pleasure. Pure pleasure, enhanced by the slight amount of pain being stretched so far, pounded so hard, overtook me, and I was a constant moan, "Oh fuck," escaping from me with every other breath.
His hands found their way underneath my torso and he slapped my breasts, first one then the other. "Mine!" he said when I moaned with delighted pain, perhaps a touch of indignity coloring my tone.
"Yours," I agreed, whether loudly or softly I had no way of gauging. My arms gave out after an extended period, and I dropped to my elbows, my ass still lifted high for his cock to slide into my pussy.
"Oooh, I should fuck this ass," he mused, running his thumb across my hole that must have been exposed due to the position I was in. I groaned, both excited and a little concerned by the prospect. "Shouldn't I? You want that don't you? Of course you do," he answered his own question as I continued groaning, overwhelmed. "Get me the lube."
I moved to do so, but as I moved the ramp tried to fall over. "Nuh-uh," I murmured, trying to adjust myself so the ramp stayed on the bed. "What you mean, nuh-uh? Get the lube!" he repeated himself. I did, returning, still dealing with the problem and making muttery noises. "Too much complaining!"
"This is falling," I whispered.
"Fix it, then," he said, squeezing lube onto his fingers. I planted my feet on the floor, pressing my ass into his cock as I wriggled to move the ramp back into place. He humped against me, making me moan. His fingers were lubing my ass even as I climbed back up into the hands-and-knees position.
As his cock penetrated my ass, I fell forward, crying out. It wasn't even an overwhelming sensation, just my own fear that it would be. "Get up," he barked, and something else I couldn't hear for my breathing was heavy, catching in my chest and coming out in gasps, I was so terribly excited that I could only hear half the things he was saying.
Then he was buried in my ass, pulling my hair back toward him with one hand, his other hand pressing and squeezing my throat, making me gasp with arousal. Oh, wow. "Oh, fuck," I kept keening softly as we rocked together, my ass stretched taut around his cock that was so engorged I hadn't been able to believe it when I was sucking it.
He came loudly, nearly collapsing against my back, pulling me up into him. I breathed heavily, great gasps of air filling my lungs. Eventually we managed to shove the ramp away and curl up into each other, whispering words of appreciation for one another.
He is magnificent, even though I lack the time to write about it all the time, and I am so grateful.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Sunday satisfaction
Saturday night we had an lovely, lazy lovemaking and incredible blowjob session, which was awesome, but left me a little horny since there was no sexual release for me. A Sunday morning attempt to rectify that was interrupted by our little one barging in. As amusing as "Why did you just barge in without knocking? We're still asleep!" is when you have fingers buried in your soft, wet parts and are most definitely not asleep, it doesn't quite make up for the less than satisfactory nature of the orgasm that follows once the child has been banished.
Sunday night is always a little depressing, since what follows is the work week - five days where our togetherness is interrupted for many hours at a time. Add to all of that the fact that we went to bed late because I drastically misjudged how long it would take to finish the flogger I'd started that evening and you have a serious emotional stew brewing.
Sunday night is always a little depressing, since what follows is the work week - five days where our togetherness is interrupted for many hours at a time. Add to all of that the fact that we went to bed late because I drastically misjudged how long it would take to finish the flogger I'd started that evening and you have a serious emotional stew brewing.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Hard flogging's the charm
"Aren't you going to turn off the light?" I ask my husband as we climb into bed.
"I am not," he says, his face appearing over mine. "I have plans." He grins disarmingly.
I whine a little. He mimics me, turning his voice to a bit higher pitch. "'Oh, but huuusband, it's late and I'm tired and I just want to sleeeeeep,' is that right?"
I laugh, but nod. It is late, and I am tired.
"I suppose you could try to sleep through what I have planned," he says, pulling my legs open. "I don't think you need sleep though. I think you need a beating." His hand crashes into my tender inner thigh and I yelp.
"Oh, that hurts!" I cry out.
"Mmm, does it?" He does it again.
"Shit! It really hurts!" I beg, squealing, trying to close my legs. Both my thighs have received several blows now and they burn and tingle.
"Poor thing, it's been too long and your body's not used to it, is it?" he asks. "I'll go easy on you for a bit." He pushes my shirt up to expose my breasts, and slaps at my nipple gently. "That feel familiar to you?" I groan softly. He slaps my nipple again and again. My body bucks as the burn sets in, and then he is reaching over me. He pulls the crop from behind my head. "This is a good way to take it easy on you," he says, running the crop over my breasts. He covers my entire breast in little taps that make me sigh, but my legs still burn and I whimper. "That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asks.
"Not yet," I respond.
"Then why are you whimpering?" he asks as he amps up the slaps, each little slap biting into me a little bit and making me cry out now.
"My thighs still burn."
"Poor thing," he says. He hits a nipple particularly hard and I twist toward him, a little scream on my lips. He grabs my leg. "Oh, what's this?" he says, rubbing his hand all over my ass. "I think it's an ass. And I think I know what your ass hasn't had in a long time." He turns away toward the nightstand drawer, and I bury my face in my pillow.
"C'mon, show me that ass," he says. I lay flat on my stomach and lift my ass in the air a little. He hits me with our softest flogger and I moan. Again. Again. He hits me until my skin burns and I am lifting my ass for more strikes when he stops, letting his fingers stroke delicately over my backside. I moan; it feels incredibly sensitive there, but I am not ready for this. I'm not ready for him to stop flogging me. "I smell sex," he whispers to me, making me flush hotly. "Someone's enjoying herself. Do you need more?"
"Yes sir," I whisper, so glad my hot face is hidden in the pillow, so glad I don't have to meet his gaze when I answer that question.
The flogger hits me again, and though it is the same soft flogger that I love, he is swinging it hard, and my backside is so sensitive already it feels incredibly harsh as it lands on me again and again. I lift my ass higher, he hits the backs of my thighs and my sit spot and I groan with pleasure. Oh, how wonderful it feels. He stops again, his fingers making me gasp when they touch my hot skin.
Then he does something I am not expecting. I feel the crop bite into my tenderized backside and I yelp. "Oh, that hurts, huh?" he says, as he paints my entire ass with the harsh bite of the crop. I am wriggling and squirming and practically screaming. It hurts. I can deal, but it's an altogether different sort of hurt. It amazes me how he can keep finding different applications of the same tools. I have inhaled sharply so many times I have drawn lots of my own hair into my mouth. I am panting and writhing with the pain, unable to hold still, when he finally puts the crop down.
"Turn over." I slowly lift my head and pull my hair out of my face and mouth before I obey, turning to face him. He kisses me, his lips soft and warm and insistent.
"Take off your shirt," he orders, his dominance sending a thrill through me. I sigh softly as I sit up and do as he requested. "Oh, you don't want to lose that protection, do you?" he asks as I lie back down, his hands touching my shoulder and back. He kisses me again, hugging me close. "Not that it's really protection. Just nasty barriers keeping me from touching you."
"Show me those breasts again," he says. I have been lying with my arms crossed over them. I tremble as I open my arms, and he starts slapping the crop gently all over my breasts in a rhythm only he knows, slap slap slap slap SLAP.
He keeps going, and the sting builds each time he whacks the crop into a nipple, a loud squeal on my part announcing the difference in the pain. Eventually it hurts too much, and after a particularly hard blow, for the first time in recent memory, my hands fly up to protectively clasp my breasts.
I tremble, whimpering with anticipation, as he runs the crop gently over my cheek. He must be looking into my face, but my eyes are glued shut. I couldn't open them with heavy duty tools. "You afraid?" he asks me as he hears my breath quicken.
"Yes sir," I barely whisper.
"You should be," he says, running the tip of the crop across my other cheek. He slides it down to my hands, still clutched over my breasts. "Move your hands," he commands, brushing the crop along the back of my arm.
I can't do it. I don't move. "Move your hands," he repeats, slapping the crop against the back of my hand. I whine with the sting of it and let my hands fall to my sides. "Good girl."
The crop dances over my breasts again, touching hard on a nipple now and then and drawing a yelp from me amongst the other various cries I am making. I twist repeatedly, but manage to get back into position somehow.
I can't bear any more, my nipples are both on fire. He puts down the crop and slaps my breasts full-on. I groan. "Are you my cockslut?" he asks softly, dangerously.
"I am," I whisper.
"Then you won't mind sucking my cock for me."
Mm. No. I don't mind.
He finishes in my mouth and praises me as I lie there with his leg over my shoulder, his hands stroke my hair as we both catch our breath. "Good fuck toy," he breathes, and I shudder at the words. He must feel my shudder because he continues. "Good cock slut, good fuck hole. Good wife," he whispers, each phrase sinking into my psyche and making my body shake with barely contained arousal. I whimper at his words, nestling my face closer into his thigh, trying to merge my body with his, to melt into him.
"Mmm, come here, fuck toy," he says, tugging on my shoulder. I whine, happy being held by his leg. "Aww, are you happy being held there like that?" I nod as I crawl up his body and he takes me in his arms. "But my arms aren't that long, girl, and my hands weren't done with you." I moan as he slides his fingers into my pussy, his thumb dancing over my clit. It feels divine. He rests his other hand on my throat, pressing it gently to the bed, and his mouth goes after my nipple, tormenting it with his teeth. I groan loudly, bucking under him. I love that I can't lift my head although I want to so desperately. I love the pain of his teeth gently biting into my nipple. I love the pleasure his other hand is dealing to my nether regions. I writhe as best I can under his ministrations, and I am making a lot of noise.
"You're hurting me," I manage to vocalize as he bites particularly hard on my nipple, sucking it deeply into his mouth.
He pulls his mouth away from me. "Exactly where am I hurting you, my girl?"
"My nipple," I exhale on a moan as his fingers impale me.
"This nipple right here?" he says, biting into it even harder.
"Uhhh, yes," I cry out.
"Mmmmmmm, good," he says, fastening his lips back around it and continuing on like I never said anything.
I am thinking about how divine it all feels and how much I'd like it to go on forever when suddenly, I explode. I am writhing all over the place, crying out from the increased sensitivity, trying to get away. He rolls to his side, holds me tight against his body and keeps his hand moving on my sex. "Look at you go, girl," he whispers into my ear as I lose my mind again.
"Did my poor girl think she'd have to go another night unfucked?" he asks me as he slowly strokes my sensitive flesh, soothing it as it pulses. I nod against his shoulder. "Poor thing," he says, kissing me, "now you'll just have another night unslept."
I by far prefer the latter.
"I am not," he says, his face appearing over mine. "I have plans." He grins disarmingly.
I whine a little. He mimics me, turning his voice to a bit higher pitch. "'Oh, but huuusband, it's late and I'm tired and I just want to sleeeeeep,' is that right?"
I laugh, but nod. It is late, and I am tired.
"I suppose you could try to sleep through what I have planned," he says, pulling my legs open. "I don't think you need sleep though. I think you need a beating." His hand crashes into my tender inner thigh and I yelp.
"Oh, that hurts!" I cry out.
"Mmm, does it?" He does it again.
"Shit! It really hurts!" I beg, squealing, trying to close my legs. Both my thighs have received several blows now and they burn and tingle.
"Poor thing, it's been too long and your body's not used to it, is it?" he asks. "I'll go easy on you for a bit." He pushes my shirt up to expose my breasts, and slaps at my nipple gently. "That feel familiar to you?" I groan softly. He slaps my nipple again and again. My body bucks as the burn sets in, and then he is reaching over me. He pulls the crop from behind my head. "This is a good way to take it easy on you," he says, running the crop over my breasts. He covers my entire breast in little taps that make me sigh, but my legs still burn and I whimper. "That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asks.
"Not yet," I respond.
"Then why are you whimpering?" he asks as he amps up the slaps, each little slap biting into me a little bit and making me cry out now.
"My thighs still burn."
"Poor thing," he says. He hits a nipple particularly hard and I twist toward him, a little scream on my lips. He grabs my leg. "Oh, what's this?" he says, rubbing his hand all over my ass. "I think it's an ass. And I think I know what your ass hasn't had in a long time." He turns away toward the nightstand drawer, and I bury my face in my pillow.
"C'mon, show me that ass," he says. I lay flat on my stomach and lift my ass in the air a little. He hits me with our softest flogger and I moan. Again. Again. He hits me until my skin burns and I am lifting my ass for more strikes when he stops, letting his fingers stroke delicately over my backside. I moan; it feels incredibly sensitive there, but I am not ready for this. I'm not ready for him to stop flogging me. "I smell sex," he whispers to me, making me flush hotly. "Someone's enjoying herself. Do you need more?"
"Yes sir," I whisper, so glad my hot face is hidden in the pillow, so glad I don't have to meet his gaze when I answer that question.
The flogger hits me again, and though it is the same soft flogger that I love, he is swinging it hard, and my backside is so sensitive already it feels incredibly harsh as it lands on me again and again. I lift my ass higher, he hits the backs of my thighs and my sit spot and I groan with pleasure. Oh, how wonderful it feels. He stops again, his fingers making me gasp when they touch my hot skin.
Then he does something I am not expecting. I feel the crop bite into my tenderized backside and I yelp. "Oh, that hurts, huh?" he says, as he paints my entire ass with the harsh bite of the crop. I am wriggling and squirming and practically screaming. It hurts. I can deal, but it's an altogether different sort of hurt. It amazes me how he can keep finding different applications of the same tools. I have inhaled sharply so many times I have drawn lots of my own hair into my mouth. I am panting and writhing with the pain, unable to hold still, when he finally puts the crop down.
"Turn over." I slowly lift my head and pull my hair out of my face and mouth before I obey, turning to face him. He kisses me, his lips soft and warm and insistent.
"Take off your shirt," he orders, his dominance sending a thrill through me. I sigh softly as I sit up and do as he requested. "Oh, you don't want to lose that protection, do you?" he asks as I lie back down, his hands touching my shoulder and back. He kisses me again, hugging me close. "Not that it's really protection. Just nasty barriers keeping me from touching you."
"Show me those breasts again," he says. I have been lying with my arms crossed over them. I tremble as I open my arms, and he starts slapping the crop gently all over my breasts in a rhythm only he knows, slap slap slap slap SLAP.
He keeps going, and the sting builds each time he whacks the crop into a nipple, a loud squeal on my part announcing the difference in the pain. Eventually it hurts too much, and after a particularly hard blow, for the first time in recent memory, my hands fly up to protectively clasp my breasts.
I tremble, whimpering with anticipation, as he runs the crop gently over my cheek. He must be looking into my face, but my eyes are glued shut. I couldn't open them with heavy duty tools. "You afraid?" he asks me as he hears my breath quicken.
"Yes sir," I barely whisper.
"You should be," he says, running the tip of the crop across my other cheek. He slides it down to my hands, still clutched over my breasts. "Move your hands," he commands, brushing the crop along the back of my arm.
I can't do it. I don't move. "Move your hands," he repeats, slapping the crop against the back of my hand. I whine with the sting of it and let my hands fall to my sides. "Good girl."
The crop dances over my breasts again, touching hard on a nipple now and then and drawing a yelp from me amongst the other various cries I am making. I twist repeatedly, but manage to get back into position somehow.
I can't bear any more, my nipples are both on fire. He puts down the crop and slaps my breasts full-on. I groan. "Are you my cockslut?" he asks softly, dangerously.
"I am," I whisper.
"Then you won't mind sucking my cock for me."
Mm. No. I don't mind.
He finishes in my mouth and praises me as I lie there with his leg over my shoulder, his hands stroke my hair as we both catch our breath. "Good fuck toy," he breathes, and I shudder at the words. He must feel my shudder because he continues. "Good cock slut, good fuck hole. Good wife," he whispers, each phrase sinking into my psyche and making my body shake with barely contained arousal. I whimper at his words, nestling my face closer into his thigh, trying to merge my body with his, to melt into him.
"Mmm, come here, fuck toy," he says, tugging on my shoulder. I whine, happy being held by his leg. "Aww, are you happy being held there like that?" I nod as I crawl up his body and he takes me in his arms. "But my arms aren't that long, girl, and my hands weren't done with you." I moan as he slides his fingers into my pussy, his thumb dancing over my clit. It feels divine. He rests his other hand on my throat, pressing it gently to the bed, and his mouth goes after my nipple, tormenting it with his teeth. I groan loudly, bucking under him. I love that I can't lift my head although I want to so desperately. I love the pain of his teeth gently biting into my nipple. I love the pleasure his other hand is dealing to my nether regions. I writhe as best I can under his ministrations, and I am making a lot of noise.
"You're hurting me," I manage to vocalize as he bites particularly hard on my nipple, sucking it deeply into his mouth.
He pulls his mouth away from me. "Exactly where am I hurting you, my girl?"
"My nipple," I exhale on a moan as his fingers impale me.
"This nipple right here?" he says, biting into it even harder.
"Uhhh, yes," I cry out.
"Mmmmmmm, good," he says, fastening his lips back around it and continuing on like I never said anything.
I am thinking about how divine it all feels and how much I'd like it to go on forever when suddenly, I explode. I am writhing all over the place, crying out from the increased sensitivity, trying to get away. He rolls to his side, holds me tight against his body and keeps his hand moving on my sex. "Look at you go, girl," he whispers into my ear as I lose my mind again.
"Did my poor girl think she'd have to go another night unfucked?" he asks me as he slowly strokes my sensitive flesh, soothing it as it pulses. I nod against his shoulder. "Poor thing," he says, kissing me, "now you'll just have another night unslept."
I by far prefer the latter.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
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.
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.
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