Happy Anniversary

The old house had memories lurking in every corner and crevice, every room, but Hainora refused to let them overtake her in nostalgia on the way to their old bedroom on the first floor. She took the steps unhurriedly, for the sake of her wounded knee, dragging Sonsine up them still by the hair, and then threw the door at the end of the corridor open. The old master bedroom was much the same as ever, with its grand circular bed, the wall with all its hooks that looked almost more like it belonged in a tool shed than a bedroom, the writing desk. If it looked the same, it didn't smell quite the same. The room had a different smell now, had had it for years since the new house went up and Sonsine took up exclusive residence. It was exciting in its own way, the concentrated scent of her pet's body, her soaps, the oils she used for her leather and the polish for the brass.

It was so different from what she'd become accustomed to now as the scent of the bedroom, sharing the master suite with Bliss. It was all perfumes and soaps and flowers, covering up her own contributions of whiskey and tobacco and leather. Sonsine's scent was nowhere in it - the feral elf twisting under her painfully tight grip rarely spent the night at the palatial house, and left little imprint of the primally exciting odor that so thoroughly pervaded her room here. It actually made Hainora pause and sigh, nostrils flaring to draw more in, before she cast Sonsine hard onto the large circular bed in the center of the room.

She landed awkwardly, on her side, but quickly spun onto her back, scrambling onto the cushions to watch her mistress with wide green eyes and an enticingly cheeky grin, challenging her with it ever so subtly. It wasn't quite a taunt, a whispered 'do your best', but it was there, playful, knowing that she'd lose if it came to it and embracing the idea. Hainora stared back for a long moment, vaguely aware that her cock was throbbing, drooling precum, and then answered with a grin of her own. The old tools were mostly still here, she noticed with satisfaction. There was the singletail, the strap, a proper rope cat'o'nine, one of leather, one of heavy suede. The canes were well oiled, and the ropes were impeccable. There was no mistaking the wall of tools, and with their presence the architectural curiosities took on a new meaning. Heavy beams with eyelets, small iron loops in the floorboards that hinged up to take the same role. It was one of the things she missed - the simplicity of the space, the ease with which it changed. In the great house panels hid the rigging loops, and to all outward appearances it was a perfectly respectable bedroom.

Not here. It was a thrill to be here again, in her old stomping ground. She visited only every few weeks, and every time it felt the same way, electric on her skin. This was where she belonged, at least a part of her, standing here with her tools of torture and her masochistic wife (not, she reminded herself, that Bliss was not a masochist in her own right - but there was something less viscerally satisfying about mauling her emotionally compared to the solid thud of a rattan cane into a yielding ass, the delayed screech of pain, and the trickle of blood that resulted) in a simple country house, if a very nice one. She shook her head, tore her mind away from reminiscence to the moment, to the ache in her cock and the tools before here. Her hand moved over each, considering the merits.

The cane? Always a delight... But not quite right, not just yet. The paddle? Never her favourite, almost a waste of time. The old tawse, its leather worn and stained from years of use? Yes, that was the one to start. She plucked it from its hook, and it almost melted into her palm, it was so familiar. It was a foot long piece of leather, one end narrower than the other for a grip, the remaining eight inches split in half for most of the length. It was heavier than her usual strap, but the same years of use that had stained the grip with the oils of her and Sonsine's hands had made it so supple, so quick and agile, that it could almost pass as a whip in its own right now. With satisfaction, she thrashed it in the air, and the split tongues rubbed against each other in flight with a most pleasing brushing sound that made it sound all the more intimidating than if the swish of it cutting through the air had stood alone.

"Roll over and hold still." She ordered as she turned, and with no small sense of satisfaction she saw that Sonsine was already obliging her, turning over onto her face and resting her hands flat on the bed above her head.

She wasted no time. Crossing back to the bedside, Hainora snapped the tawse out with expert aim. The tails snapped down along Sonsine's cheeks, biting at both of them, with a loud crack that blurred into a deeper thud, and Sonsine gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets at the sensation. Pausing for just a moment, Hainora took in the sight as she lifted the tawse - the slow, reddening bloom in her pet's cheeks, the deeper tinge in the middle where the two close tongues had caught skin between them and nipped at it. It was beautiful, in its own right - and intensely erotic.

Rolling her sore shoulder, Hainora drew the tawse back, and brought it back down across both with that same exquisite sound, the mingling of the blow with the gasp and the sound of the sheets rustling. Even the feeling of the leather in her hand was exhilarating, but nothing could outdo Sonsine's reactions. Just the way her ass reflexively tensed before she forced it to relax after each strike was hypnotic, and despite herself Hainora took a moment to reach down and stroke herself as she took in the sight. She was achingly erect now, and while she knew what she should have wanted most was to plunge into the beautiful redheaded woman on the bed, it wasn't.

What she wanted most was to bring that tawse down again. And she did, over and over. The foreplay was over with those first two strikes, and there was no pause to admire the tense-and-relax, the little jiggles, with each the harsh, hard strikes. Hainora growled as she rained down blow after blow, Sonsine's gasps turning to moans and whimpers and cries of pain, her feet flexing and tensing, toes curling for purchase on the sheets in an instinctive attempt to flee and shield herself that she nonetheless fought down. One hand escaped its desperate purchase above her head and slunk between her legs, and she just as desperately began to masturbate under the strikes.

They worked on long after the endorphin rush from the blows ended, after the pleasurable warmth turned back into pain - and Sonsine's response was to masturbate all the more fiercely, chasing an orgasm that surged closer with every painful lash. Hainora drew the tawse back now, each blow delivered from on high, snapping across one cheek or both, criss-crossing them with lovely hatch-marks of red stripes with centred purple ones that quickly rose in angry, livid welts that made her cock drip and her breath hitch for their agonizing beauty. She stopped only after long minutes, when Sonsine was shaking from the pain, her fingers moving fast and needy, her cunt soaking wet and her nectar dampening the sheets beneath her.

"Please..." Sonsine whined out, her voice trembling as she took a gasp of air. "...so close..." Her fingers slowed all the same as the pain that fuelled her pleasure began to ebb back into a steady, aching, glowing throb.

"Not yet. Get up." Hainora barked back, throwing the tawse down on the bed.

It was magnificent to see. Sonsine's rise was slow, unsteady, her legs nearly folding under her at first before she managed to bring control back over her muscles. Tears flowed smoothly down her cheeks, but she smiled through them, biting her lower lip with lust as she assumed a display position her mistress had taught her decades before. It was simple, unpretentious - arms folded behind her back, feet slightly apart, chest pressed out. Hainora found herself touching herself again at the sight, just for a moment, before she turned away and gathered the rope.

"Hands."

Sonsine slipped them in front, resting her wrists together, and Hainora bound them tightly, not together directly but each with their own loops. There was no need for complex rigging between the two of them, and she took a fresh length, joining it to the wrist tie before throwing an end through one of the eyelets in the ceiling beam. This part was always fun, she thought to herself with a small grin, as she began to pull. Tighter and tighter she drew the rope down through one of the eyelets embedded in the floor, tighter and tighter until her pet stood on her very tip-toes, her arms stretched high above her, her body exquisitely vulnerable. Hainora tied the rope off securely, and rose from her crouch.

"Where to begin..." She crooned softly, circling Sonsine, taking in the sight. The blood on her thigh, the vivid red and purple crosswork of welts on her ass, the aching stiffness of her pretty pink nipples. It was all so very inviting, but as she stared at her pet's strong, toned back she made her decision. The old scars there drew her in, and before she could stop herself, she was touching them, stroking a finger along them slowly. Oh yes. That was the one. It was always the one for them.

Drawing herself back from their alluring call, Hainora stepped back to the tools on the wall, selecting the old, worn - almost ratty, even - singletail that had served them well for years and years now. It felt like a part of her body being returned to her, the way its braided grip balanced so perfectly in her palm, the ease with which it uncoiled and swayed to the floor. There was no warm-up this time. With bated breath, she turned and drew back, swivelling at the waist for more power, and brought the five-foot signal whip through, snapping with her wrist. The leather stretched out from her hand in an arc, and cracked hard into Sonsine's back, the tip dragging along her shoulder blades.

The redhead's scream bounced in the room twice before it died, loud and keening, and Hainora bit her lip with excitement before she brought her old favourite back again and then snapped it across Sonsine's shoulders the other way. Her cock ached of a sudden, blood surging into it, and the excitement was giddy in her belly. On the third stroke, she aimed lower, and a fresh vibrant welt joined those already covering Sonsine's buttocks. Again and again she drew the whip back and snapped it forward, the blows harsh and unrelenting. Each time it snapped hard at the redheaded elf's scarred back and provoked a fresh scream from her - and each time, Sonsine's desperate pants grew harder. Her thighs began to press together, eagerly trying to stimulate her pussy however she could, to seize the building orgasm swelling in her belly.

Hainora let her. It excited her, seeing the way Sonsine opened up in the pain, the way the kind of blows that made everyone else she played with beg for mercy would make her pet instead frantically cry for more. Precum gleamed on the crown of her cock, the whistling air displaced by the strokes of the whip washing over it in cool breezes. Again, again, again! Sonsine was no longer panting, she was gasping for breath, her body tensing against the ropes, gleaming with sweat. The next blow wrapped around her hips, the tip speeding up on the way around before it slashed at her pubic mound just above her cunt, and then a fresh scream joined the rest - longer, harder, met with an intense shake and a wash of pussy juice down over Sonsine's thighs, splattering droplets onto the floor as the excruciating pain wrung a powerful orgasm from her body.

The impressive display won Sonsine no mercy. Hainora's cock ached all the harder, her body urging her to fuck her pet, to throw the whip down and take her hard and fast. She ignored it, raising the leather again and bringing it down harder still on the redhead's back, her aim carefully calculated to bring just the tip against the skin, not lightly but with firm contact. This time, a bright red line followed in its wake, a swiftly swelling welt that oozed blood. Sonsine's answer was to spasm again, more of her nectar raining from her pussy, her scream choked off by a fresh wave of orgasm so intense it robbed her completely of breath. The next brought another of those fierce shakes, a little weaker, as did the next and the next, until finally she came down from her prolonged peak, panting desperately, limp against the ropes, slumped into them, gleaming with sweat. Blood oozed from the half-dozen cuts on her back, and where the sweat ran in shiny rivulets into them she hissed from the pain.

"You dirty little pain slut..." Hainora crooned, stepping forward and around to Sonsine's front, seizing a fisful of her hair and forcing her head up. Her eyes were unfocused, but she smiled dopily at her Mistress.

"...only..." Sonsine coughed, licking her lips before continuing. "...because you made me this way, Mistress." Her words turned to an ecstatic giggle. Her entire body throbbed with the mixture of pain and pleasure that she so desperately craved, and the smile returned to her lips even as her eyes began to focus again.

Hainora smiled quietly in response, and then leant in for a hard, rough kiss. The whip clattered to the floor, her now free hand shoving between the redhead's legs to grab at her pussy, squeezing tight until Sonsine whimpered with pain and need into the kiss. Her teeth found a lower lip, and she bit down, careful only to puncture enough to draw blood, no more. It flowed, rich and coppery, onto her tongue and she eagerly swallowed it, delighting in it. It was true - she'd made her pet this way, turned her from a shy virgin into a unique masochistic work of art, the kind that responded to the bite not with fear or anger but a shudder of desire, that met the agonizingly tight pressure of her mistress's rough palm grinding her clitoris against her pubic bone with an eager tilt of her hips into it.

The taste of Sonsine's blood was intoxicating, an aphrodisiac par excellence. Hainora's heart pounded in her chest, her cock pressing against Sonsine's belly, smearing it with precum messily as she bit down again at the cut to draw more out. It stained her lips read when she drew back from the kiss, and released the redhead's hair, anointing her fingers with the blood that welled up from Sonsine's lips and bringing them to her own to lick at slowly, sighing with pleasure. A bead rolled down the feral elf's chin, turning into a small river that cascaded from her chin and dripped down onto her chest and belly, running between her breasts, down her stomach.

It was beautiful in its own right, and when the flow diminished, Hainora scowled with irritation. But it launched a fresh idea, and she reached up to loosen the knots holding Sonsine's hands above her head, letting her collapse onto weak knees that threatened to falter before she recovered and managed to stand strong - only for Hainora to repeat her greeting in the kitchen, driving a fist hard into her belly and knocking the air from her lungs, sending her staggering back onto the bed. The blow winded her completely, unexpected and unanticipated.

"Stay."

Hainora growled at her, before turning away to gather more rope. Once, she had been a premiere rigger, but over the years her tastes had moved towards the more direct infliction of pain. But with Sonsine, there was one position that called out to her, begged her to pick up her old ways, and she happily obliged. There was only one other person who could even tolerate the tie she planned, let alone thrive on it like Sonsine did. It was extreme, agonizing, dangerous - it was perfect for them.

When she returned to the bed, she roughly forced Sonsine over without a word, and began. First, she wrapped the coarse hemp rope around the wild redhead's wrists, binding them together and following it with a shoulder harness that fully secured her arms behind her back, extended straight without a hope of real movement. The redhead moaned softly into the bed with the pain as she was roughly manipulated, handled indelicately, coarse rope grinding against the fresh whip cuts on her back and the welts on her ass. Then, fingers moving nimbly, dextrously, expertly, she bound Sonsine's ankles just as tight, forcing her to bend her knees with her thighs flat on the bed, and with a fresh length of rope linked the shoulder bonds to the ankles, cinching them painfully tight. The hogtie was already cruel, but she deepened it, binding Sonsine's wrists to her ankles, twisting her up in a painful arch.

It was already a stringent position, but there was one last touch. A final rope, tied tight to the back of Sonsine's precious collar and then looped down through the gap between her ankle bonds and fastened to an eyelet in the ceiling beam. A headboard would have served better, but the circular bed lacked one - but together with the passage through the ropes holding her ankles, Hainora was satisfied with the leashing effect. She dragged Sonsine forward to the edge of the tall bed, noting with satisfaction that her measurement was perfect. The collar was tight, but not so tight that Sonsine couldn't breathe with some effort, forced to stare up by the tight pull back at her neck.

"I have what you want right here, Sonsine."

Hainora said, smiling, her hand dropping to her aching cock, stroking over it. The foreskin moved smoothly over her crown, precum smearing and shining, and her entire length seemed to visibly throb with her arousal. Sonsine smiled, opening her mouth - and then Hainora let the special cruelty of the rig play out. She stepped just an inch away.

"Come get it."

Sonsine swallowed, and then leant her head forward obediently - only to find the pressure on her throat increased, the collar starting to really cut off air and blood. Struggling against the ropes, she persevered all the same, straining forward until she couldn't breathe at all. Still, she was just out of reach. Hainora stared down, grinning at her pet's efforts, at the way her face purpled with strain and began to blossom in a sweat. Sonsine relaxed after a long few moments and choked down breath, only to begin again, pushing against her own collar and this time just managing to gain enough purchase to press her lips against Hainora's cock. Hainora rewarded her with a pat on the head, revelling in the sense of power, the display of obedience and self-degradation as Sonsine choked herself, strangled herself, for a mere chance to please her.

She knew what Sonsine must be feeling every time she struggled forward. First the tightness cutting off the easy flow of blood, the building pressure - it was obvious from the way veins began to stand out at her temple - and the dull, throbbing ache that built in her teeth. Then the ache in the eyes, and the burn in the lungs. Each time, more blood flowed from the puncture in Sonsine's lip as the pressure built, spilling down her chin in a steady rivulet that ebbed and flowed with every aching attempt. Hainora let her go on for a long minute before pushing her back lightly, patting her again. She was barely conscious by then, her face purple, breath wheezing each time.

"Good girl." Hainora crooned down at her, and saw the smile flicker under the mask of pain and exhaustion that dominated Sonsine's features. It was a hard tie, even without the added challenge, brutal and cruel. With anyone else, it was time already to let them go, to loosen it up a little.

Instead, she closed the distance herself, roughly and without warning forcing her cock into Sonsine's mouth, into her throat. She savoured the way the elf coughed and gagged around her cock as it pushed past the back of her throat and into her gullet, the spasming muscles a delightful massage for her oversized member. Holding there, she stared down into the redhead's bright green eyes as they teared up, as the oxygen starvation began again. Only when she could tell that Sonsine was on the verge - when her eyes began to unfocus - did she pull free, and jolt her pet back with a hard slap across the cheek. One brief gasped breath, and she forced back in, met by an eager press forward by Sonsine, not stopping this time until her pet's delicate nose was mashed against her pubic bone.