And So It Went...

There you were; wrists and ankles in the stiff, heavy 3" wide black leather, wrapped snugly about your wrists and ankles, bound to the rings set in the side of the cross. You stand there in your dark blue skirt, powder blue blouse, fishnet stockings and 5" heels, you still feel very naked though as I look upon you bound helpless to the cross. Me...I stand in my black t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, fondling the riding crop, lightly running it up and down your inner thigh.

Your body shivers at the soft touch, but you can't help but wonder why I have bound you clothed to the cross. How can I enjoy you this way? How can you be used for my pleasure this way? How can you gain your pleasure this way? So many questions flood your mind while your body is growing more excited by the second tied as you are, touched so lightly.

Suddenly the stroke of the crop lands on your hip, the layers of your skirt and panties don't seem to make a difference, the stroke clearly left a sting and your mind was yanked back from your thoughts and plunged back into the moment. But just as quickly as the stroke landed, the soft stroking continued over your stomach and you can feel the crop through the cloth of your blouse. You lean to it as well as you can, you close your eyes again as the sting subsides and the soft stroking takes over again.

The supple leather strokes against your cheek, your head involuntarily leans to its gentle caress. The leather softly strokes up your left inner arm, then up the soft skin on your forearm. The touch almost tickles as it sends a shiver through your body. Then just as suddenly as before the crop falls viciously on the inner part of your upper right arm. Your eyes shoot open, your body reels away from the stroke; the sting on your inner arm a grim reminder that I am in control of your pleasure and pain. Then just as before the crop is stroking your inner thigh softly, gently, slowly. The pain slowly subsides again and you are overcome with the feel of the leather stroking your thigh. Your eyes slowly close to the pleasure of the touch and your hips reach out to touch the leather.

Suddenly again the crop lands with a slap and sting unlike the other two; this time it landed on your left breast, and even though you wear a cotton shirt and silken bra, the stroke is as crisp as if you wore nothing, you yelp out on shock and pain. Having felt two previous strokes followed by soft stroking you expect it and your body relaxes quickly from this expecting to feel the soft stroke. Sorry to disappoint you; the crop falls again on your other breast. Now both breasts are stinging and your eyes are tearing, you are yanking at the bonds that hold your wrists, you so desperately wish to hold your stinging breasts to comfort them, but you are bound well and cannot. All you can do is pant your breath and hope the sting subsides to a dull ache quickly.

The crop is placed into your teeth and my hands grope your breasts firmly, this in some ways helps to ease the sting, even though it is not comfortable, it is helps release the sting.

My hands start to grope your body, touching, squeezing; you close your eyes and let your minds eye follow my hands as they search and explore your body. Then in a swift move I tear the blouse open exposing your belly and covered breasts. My hands wander now unimpeded on your flesh my lips and tongue trace across your upper chest. You moan your pleasure while maintaining your grip on the crop between your teeth.

Then a hard slap on the inner thigh, your hips recoil from the shock, your eyes open wildly, involuntarily you yell out with pain dropping the crop. As the sting subsides you realize your transgression; you dropped my crop on the floor. You owe penance for this. You look at me pleading, afraid to utter a word, waiting for my reaction. All you get is a look from me, neutral I expression, you try desperately to read it, but there is nothing there to decipher.

I take a step back and bend, picking up the crop, I inspect it closely and brush it off then without so much as a word you are struck on the exposed stomach. You yelp at the strike, your stomach feels as though it has been struck with a hot iron, but then your body yields to the feeling of the crop stroking at your womanhood. You cannot concentrate on the sting and pleasure you are enduring, your mind starts to block out the stinging in your breasts, thigh and stomach, allowing you only a more intense pleasure within your crotch.

Your hips betray you; you are ready for another strike whether or not you know it or want it. I do not deny your body. Your hips undulate on the stroking crop trying desperately to gain more pleasure, when suddenly again the crop falls on your belly, leaving a very distinct red mark. You yell out and find the crop again placed between your teeth. You resolve to hold it this time, no matter what.

Giving you a few moments to recover from the sting and the heat that grows in your crotch I stand back and look upon you. You are a vision of helpless beauty; MY helpless beauty. As I look upon you, I watch your breasts rise and fall with your breathing, I watch your hips sway to your internal heat as it tries desperately to gain more pleasure, I watch your arms tug helplessly in the bonds, trying to get to your womanhood to satisfy your growing need to be touched, I watch your legs as they try to close, to give you something to grind your clit against. You are helpless in your bonds, and your needs; only able to squirm slightly and feel what I let you feel. I smile to myself and decide it is time to raise the bar on your frustration.

I reach to the table and pull a knife off it and walk to you. Slowly I place the blade next to the skin of your slightly exposed breast, letting you feel the cool steel for a lingering moment, then without a word, I grab your bra between your breasts and pull it out slightly slipping the knife under, and then only pulling straight out I slice the fabric that so well hid your lovely breasts. I lean in with my lips and lick and kiss both your nipples. Getting both wet with my saliva I slowly blow on them making then contract in the cool breeze, you pull back helplessly in an attempt to get me to stop. I laugh at your attempt, and stroke your thighs with my free hand.

Your hips make a vain attempt to gain more of my touch but I deny it, you moan frustrated, still holding the crop in your teeth. Your eyes betray your need to be touched and I can read in your subtle pleading that you wish, desire, need; to be touched.

I pull back from you and reach up and slowly cut the remainder of your blouse and bra from your body. I lean in and softly lick at your lips, you desire to kiss me but the crop you know you must hold prevents that, all you can do is pant your desire and need and moan at me.

Reaching to your waist I slowly slice your skirt from you, leaving you in your shoes, stockings and panties, if you call that thin strip of cloth panties. It looks more like a small piece of black ribbon covering your womanhood and not well either.

I retreat and place the knife on the table and then return to you, flogger in hand and slowly I drag the tails up your now nearly fully exposed body.

The 36 tails of half inch leather feel warm and soft on your body, and you instinctively sigh and lean to the touch. As I withdraw the leather from your body you sigh slightly in frustration, not having been allowed its touch on your breasts. I react to your demand with a flick of my wrist and the tails lash out landing on your stomach. You gasp suddenly, but manage to keep your grip on the crop in your teeth. In response, I again flick the leather tails onto your body, this time higher, landing them between your breasts and letting them slide down your body and as they reach the bottom I flick them up once again, this time landing them across your breast. You feel the hit, it is not hard, it barely stings, but the sound and feel of the solid thud rings in your ears and you again gasp out in a heavy whimper, dropping the crop.

Your eyes open in horror. You have dropped the crop twice; you know you will be punished for treating my things with such indifference and apathy. I lean down and pick up the crop and look at it as though the fall may or could have injured it and look then into your eyes. You say nothing, you don't need to. Your eyes tell the story. You know you are going to be punished for this, and I mustn't allow you to treat my things with such disregard. The crop falls hard across your inner arms 3 times each with a sting that builds on the others. Then I drop 2 strokes on each outer thigh. Your tears are not a deterrent for me; you failed to hold what you were given. I bring the crop twice across your stomach leaving a red welt and a sting that grows as it settles in. Your tear stained cheeks draw no sympathy from me, and I bring the crop to the outside of your breasts once each and the sting shadows the ones you received there earlier. Your breasts are stinging, you tug and pull on your binds fruitlessly; then you become aware of a feeling against your womanhood. Your eyes plead with me to stop, to hold the final stroke, to give you a reprieve. The crop strikes on target directly on your barely covered heat. You scream out as the wave of it washes through your whole crotch. If there is an advantage to this stroke it is that the rest of your body has forgotten about what it has been subjected to.

As the wave of the stroke settles in as a heavy sting I discard the crop to the table and bring a gag to silence you with. As I hook it behind your head, my lips and tongue tease and taunt your neck and lips. Then slowly I slide my lips down to your nipples, your body jerks back away at my touch, it, having been struck such, that you cannot help but expect a stinging pain, but I am gently sucking on your nipples and stroking your breasts. You sigh and moan softly, your body reacting and soaking in the pleasure to replace the pain you have endured. Somehow in the back of your mind, you try to rationalize that dropping the crop was not a mistake but a desire to gain more pleasure. That is what you are getting at this moment and your hips press out toward me in a vain attempt to be stroked.

I tear the thin ribbon-like cloth from you exposing your womanhood to me. I slide my fingers lightly against your now exposed lips and feel the moisture that has emerged from you, moistening your heat. You cannot believe how sensitive you are in light of being struck with the crop. But you find my touch ever more desirable and try to drive your hips closer to me as I withdraw my hand.

Dropping the thin cloth on the floor with your other discarded shreds of what was your clothes, you now stand in your heels and stockings and my cuffs. Your body stinging from the lashing you had gotten, yet your womanhood begging for something; some touch of my hand, my lips, and my tongue. You watch me walk around the table and pick up the flogger, and you know well its effect on you. I read it in your expression and smile.

Gently I slide the leather fingers up your body, like 36 soft fingers all touching you warmly for your pleasure. I let the tails gently drag over your breasts, your arms, and then slowly start back down your front letting them graze your stomach lightly. You shudder at the butterfly-like touch and try in vain to reach for more.

As the leather falls away, I start to flick it lightly on your body. The fall of the leather barely stinging or making any noise, but then suddenly the direction changes and I land a blow across your stomach. It lands with a loud thud, you gasp in reaction more to the sound than the feel and then you realize I have resumed my previous strikes, soft and easy.

It is about this time I notice a slight smile on your face as your eyes close. I think it is time to let you know once again who is in charge.

The crop falls swiftly across the front of your thigh, wrapping the tails around the side and leaving a sting as they fall away. That got your eyes open and got your attention. The next stroke you get is the same, I hear you gasp as the leather lands. Not wanting your other thigh to get jealous, I land a blow on that one as well, this one however, wraps the tails to the inside of your thigh adding to the sting. Your eyes look to see where the tails will fall next, and I let you see it move toward your stomach. You cringe and whimper as it lands leaving a nice red pattern on your flesh that will disappear in several minutes, but it has served to add to your sensitivity well.

After ten strokes to put your skin at its peak of sensitivity, I drape the flogger over my shoulder and lean to kiss your cheek. You shudder helplessly at my touch. I kiss you gently and stroke your breasts and body now so sensitive from the treatment you received. Your body begins to reach out for me to touch, I pull back and deny you that pleasure; I have other plans.

I go again to the table and this time pick up the clamps that you may have seen earlier, walk back and dangle them in front of you to see clearly. Your eyes survey them fully and you realize in an instant they are for your nipples. Your head shakes from side to side in a vain attempt to dissuade me from hanging them on you. In response, I grab the crop and look at you. You would have denied me, and you realize there is penance to pay for that. The crop falls on each breast 5 times, each stroke progressively harder. You sob in your agony, your breasts feel like they are on fire and maybe that is why you didn't notice me hang the clamps on your nipples. But to let you know they are there, I give a tug; that tug yanks you back into the moment and you yelp out behind the gag.

Seeing you so adorned I start to stroke your body with my bare hands. Each stroke, each touch so soft and gentle; a huge difference to what you felt minutes ago and your mind is trying to separate the harsh feel from the soft ones. Your body has already done this though. Your hips reach for my hand and fingers; this time, I allow you to reach me. You are incredibly wet for having endured such treatment, showing me you did in some way really and fully enjoy it.

My fingers slide between your dripping lips, sliding effortlessly into your depths, first one, then two and eventually 3. You are reaching to keep yourself impaled on them as I withdrawal them from you, but you are restricted by the leather that binds you. As they slide once again deeply into you, you cannot help but press as hard as you can, your need for release is growing, despite the feeling of the clamps on your nipples, the pleasure in your clit and pussy is overriding the pain. Suddenly, I slap you on the side of your breast, you gasp in pain, your eyes open widely and you search the room quickly to see what happened. You become aware still though, that my fingers are still deeply rooted in you and your building climax is not far away. You struggle with the feelings, knowing you have not been given permission to cum yet, and yet, you are on the brink of exploding with orgasm.

I see your eyes shut tightly as the inevitable orgasm almost washes over you but in that instant you are slammed back from it by a hard slap to your clit by my hand. You scream out as the sting of the slap settles in; your eyes closed so tightly a single tear is forced out; you try in vain to close your legs to sooth the burn from the slap that has settled on your clit and lips, but you cannot move them together. My fingers, now 4 of them have plunged deeply into you, stretching you widely and in that instant I lean to your ear and whisper into it, "cum".

You explode in your orgasm; your head whips back, your hands ball into fists, your toes strain to curl in your heels; your hips press as hard as they can to my now fully impaled hand. Your body feels electrically charged in the convulsion of your orgasm. The heat of your orgasm, the straining of your muscles, the hyper-sensitivity of your skin all add to your release.

My hand slips from your pussy, I remove the clamps on your nipples; oh how that burns; I release your ankles then your wrists from the bonds that held you in such a way and remove the gag. You collapse in my arms and I lay you on the bed and gently stroke your still overly sensitive body so gently and lovingly. You grab my hands, making me stop, you look at me and whisper almost unheard, "I love you, Master." Then you drift off to a quiet peaceful sleep.