Celeste

Her picture literally jumped out at me from the web page. Nothing explicit, no facial features, just a picture of neck and chest of a redhead clad in a rather sexy bra, well filled but not overflowing. Careful inspection reveals that she is wearing matching panties and the overall impression is of a lady who takes good care of herself and feels confidently sexy.

She claims, in her write up, to be fifty odd but I would have said somewhat younger, partially because she wears her hair down over her shoulders. It is a delightful auburn red colour and definitely unusually long for someone who claims to be in her fifties.

I have made a study of female hair length and basically, after fifty, it is almost never shoulder length, let alone longer. Hers falls suggestively over her collar bones leading your eye to the swell of those magnificent breasts, hinting at the delights under her bra. This is the hairstyle of a somewhat younger woman and she wears it well. The thought of what she could do with it sends shivers down my spine and a slight stirring in the loins. This picture oozes sex appeal in a very sophisticated way.

But back to her breasts. I could imagine just how they would look when she reached behind her back, in that movement only ladies know how to do, to unhook their bras. I imagine they would delight in their freedom; firm, full and delightful. There was no clue in the picture as to her nipples, I chose to picture them as sensitive to the touch and quick to stiffen when stroked gently with an open palm.

However, there is one more thing I think I detect. The use of several well known terms in her introduction hints at a desire for something more adventurous than simple sex, maybe even a bit of BDSM. The problem is, is she a sub or a dom? The good news is that, as a switch, it really doesn't matter to me.

At the start of my fantasy she is mildly dominating and I choose to imagine a roll playing game. Fortunately I have had a little experience in the submissive roll. I once went to a caning demonstration, at a kink fest, and after the explanation of the different sensations produced by the various thicknesses of cane a few lucky volunteers were offered a caning in exchange for a donation to a charity.

I was second in the queue! The lady ahead of me was an adult baby. Well it was a kink fest. She was totally unabashed and discreetly removed her nappy leaving her delightful bottom exposed under her frilly baby dress. She was then "warmed up" with an over the knee spanking to get her cheeks nice and rosy and get the endorphins flowing.

I would have loved to have watched her being caned but I too had to be "warmed up"so I missed it. The warm up was unremarkable, if you consider baring your bum and being spanked in view of about a hundred spectators, unremarkable.

Then it was my turn for the caning. Oh the delicious anticipation. As I recall there were about three different canes and I received three rather firm strokes from each. It was expertly done by a fully clothed, rather normal looking, middle aged lady. Fuck it hurt! But in a nice way and until you experience it you cannot possibly imagine it, particularly having the cane traced languorously over the recently inflicted weals in between strokes. It defies description.

I had now had nine of the best, my bum is on fire, and the lady suggests three more. I am not sure I can take it and she picks up on my hesitation and limits her suggestion to one more. My mouth took over from my brain, after all when was I ever going to get another caning, let alone in public. My mouth said.

"Three's fine."

I took the offered three strokes and afterwards she told me to get up and do up my trousers, saying.

"Well done." And gave me a big hug. I have never met this woman before or since but I have to admit I felt an incredible connection during that simple hug. Not sexual at all but great affection.

So can I expect to be bound hand and foot to the bed with a pillow under my stomach to present a better target? What would be her weapon of choice? I have a mild preference for the riding crop. It's very flexible, more stingy than thuddy, the little flap of leather on the end produces a delicious sensation and the marks really last and last. I just love those marks and they provoke some strange looks in the showers at the gym!

On the other hand, submission might be her preference. So out with the leather wrist and ankle restraints. They are broad leather with a soft fur lining for comfort, restraint is the important thing, not torture; but I do have some delicious torture in mind.

Dressed only in that matching bra and pantie set, long hair hanging down on her full breasts, she stands, obediently and confidently straight in front of me. We have discussed limits and safe words so are ready to start.

"Left hand." I command and she obediently holds it out. I fit the leather restraint to her wrist and lock it in place with the velcro fastening.

"Right hand." And we follow the same procedure. I now move round the back and check out her bottom and what a delicious looking bottom it is, even encased in her panties.

"Balance yourself with that chair and raise your left leg backwards." As she does so, I catch her ankle in one hand and fit another restraint. The right ankle follows. Moving round to her front again I take away the chair so she is standing in the middle of the floor dressed in her underwear with a black leather restraint fitted to four extremities.

"Both arms out in front." As she complies I fasten the two wrist restraints together with a snap hook, loop the cord that dangles from a pulley above her head, through the hook and pull gently on the other end.

Her arms are lifted slowly above her shoulders to a comfortable height above her red tresses causing her breasts to move in the most erotic way.

"Colour?"

"Green." She says with confidence so I move round the back again, unclip her bra and pull it gently away. Her breasts are now free and I run my open palms over her nipples. As I expected they stiffen readily.

Still standing behind her, I slide my palms downwards, across her belly until one is resting on top of each hip. Sliding my hands under the elastic I manage to lower her panties to the floor only ever making contact with the outside of her thighs.

"Colour?"

"Green." I decide on an inspection so I admire her beautiful mature buttocks before moving round the front to admire her sex. Is it going to smooth or natural? A few seconds later it reveals itself to be neatly trimmed with downy read hairs barely concealing the delights below.

I reach for a suede flogger consisting of a dozen or so soft, long, red suede tails attached to a beautifully braided handle. This instrument is capable of delivering delicious sensations. My favourite stroke starts from one shoulder to the opposite buttock, then the other shoulder and so on, in a fairly rapid figure of eight movement. Light strokes produce a delightful slapping noise and a gentle sensation almost like massage.

As the skin starts to warm and redden slightly a good firm stroke is delivered to one buttock, which quivers in a quite delightful way. It sounds so much worse than it feels but it does deliver a bit of piquancy, then the same to the other buttock before returning to the figure of eight.

"Colour?"

"Green."

"Good girl." And I increase the power behind the strokes a little. The slap of contact gets louder and the quivering of the buttocks more pronounced, or rather, more delightfully erotic. There is something magical, primal, about the sight of quivering female buttocks.

Still standing behind her, I put down the flogger and run my open palms slowly downwards over the curve of her breasts, graze the nipples that are now hard and firm, and allow them to follow the curve, that wonderful slightly outward curve of the female belly, towards her sex. One palm follows the other now over her bush and onwards until they contact her slightly parted and moistened lips.

Those nipples are crying out for attention and so I reach for the clamps. Not too tight, just enough to hinder the circulation, and place them carefully behind each aureola. A little wince suggests that the pressure is about right. Picking up the flogger again I commence with figure of eight again on her front, taking care not to dislodge the clams. As the skin reddens I pull gently on each clamp, just until her facial expression changes, indicating enough sensation then, quite suddenly, I remove the clamps and immediately massage the nipples with my open palms. There is a catch in her breath as the blood flows back causing an intense sensation.

Time for a change. I lower her arms and undo the snap hook and lead her to the bed, I am still undecided whether I want to play with her magnificent buttocks or her equally fascinating front. Maybe the buttocks have had their fair share of attention for now.

"Lie down on your back." The leather cuff from each wrist is attached to a clip either side of the headboard. I make my way to the ankles and attach them in a similar manner.

I hope this is going to produce an erotic sensation as I have found that a number of my female friends find it highly stimulating to be rendered powerless. I am not disappointed as I can see the signs of excitement between her legs, the slight swelling of the outer lips and the glistening of her juices.

Setting to work again, having admired the scenery for long enough, I produce a candle. Hot wax on bare skin can burn painfully and you can see the apprehension in her eyes: she is unaware that it is a special low temperature wax.

I light the candle and let it burn for a moment to increase the tension. Then drip it slowly onto her left breast.

"Fuck!" She winces in shock, expecting it to be much hotter that it is. The shock turns to surprise, then pleasure as the warmth floods through her breast.

"Colour?"

"Yel...no green." She recovers her composure and I know that my mind game has had its desired effect. Time for one more game, although I am longing to place my head between her spreadeagled thighs and place the tip of my tongue gently on that bud of a clitoris that is just peaking out of the folds of its pink home.

I can just imagine the reaction to the sucking on those engorged lips, the puling against the four restraints as my tongue works on her clit. Does she thrash about at orgasm? Does she scream when she comes? I do so love a lady who screams in orgasm, it's a sort of confirmation that I achieved the objective.

Sadly it is a fantasy so I'll never know, but you do!