“Make yourself come thinking about today”
Today? Ohhh yes today I thought to myself a happy smile on my lips as I laid back against the pillows.
I had anticipcated his request so when he appeared in the bedroom and asked me where the two crops we own were I was able to tell him instantly. He was gone from the room just long enough to retrieve them from behind the door in my office when he returned he pointed at the bed with them
“Lay down” he directed
I was still partially dressed and as I slipped the remainder of my bottoms off he tapped the bed slightly inpatiently with the end of one of the rods in his hand.
“Face up or down?” I asked as I scrambled onto the bed
“Doesn’t matter” came his reply “We will get to both today”
I little shiver of apprehension ran through me. When he talks in that no nonsense way, his tone direct and determined I always know he is in the mood in inflict some suffering, maybe even elicit tears. I take a few deep breaths and fidget around pretending to try and get comfortable in an attempt to buy some time. He waits. Until he doesn’t anymore and then brings one of the crops down firmly onto my bum. Not super hard but hard enough to tell me he is ready even if I am not.
The next strike is harder and the next and the next. He uses first one crop and then the other. Swapping them back and forth. They feel different, one is much more stingy and painful that the other but I have no idea which is which and just when he uses the less painful one he swaps again until eventually he uses both at the same time. One on my left buttock and one on my right. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming. I know going tense won’t help, the opposite in fact, but I can’t help it. My body reacts on my behalf, fighting the pain, I am crying out, burying my face into the pillows, grabbing at the sheets. My breath is coming in fast desperate gulps and eventually it is that which has me calling for a pause.
He strokes my back and down over my buttocks. His delicate touch is in such stark contrast to the stinging heat of the crop and the contrast makes me twitch. He whispers soothing words at me, reminding me to breath, reassuring me I can do this and that I want this. He is right. I do. I crave it even though I fear it at times too, but the way it makes me feel, how in my body it makes me, how intense it is, there is nothing like it.
This time when he starts up again I am more ready. The endorphins are starting to do their work and the sting on my skin is starting to burn deep into my flesh. The crop is not my ideal tool though. It is too stinging, too surface level. It is a pain I struggle with compared to something heavier and more thuddy and yet I am slowly starting to find myself sinking into it.
He ends with a flurry of blows. Alternating between the two different crops so quickly that I can barely tell them apart any more.
I can feel the heat from my well spanked bum against the cool of the sheets as I spin round. He uses the head of one of the crops to gently guide my thighs apart. Instinctively my hand comes down and cups my vulva. I can feel the dampness beneath my fingers but before I can explore further he is tapping the back of my hand and telling me to move it out the way.
He starts on my inner thigh. It is a fairly new discovery to me how much I enjoy impact play there and whilst this is very stringy I am soon spreading my legs wide and trying to give him the best access to my inner thigh. I want to reach down and touch myself but I don’t dare without his permission and as if he can read my mind all of a sudden he flicks the crop between my legs sending a little sting through my cunt. I whimper or groan. I can’t remember now. It doesn’t matter really, nothing does apart from my need.
It continues on. My thigh starts to burn and my cunt is aching. All the sensations crowd into my brain trying to demand attention. I look up at him, he is totally focused on my thigh and cunt but he must sense my eyes on him and when he looks at my face he pauses what he is doing with the crop and unzips his fly. He moves up the side of the bed and grabs my head and pulls it over, feeding his cock into my mouth.
The crop on my thigh continues as I work my mouth up and down his dick. All of sudden he flicks it between my again and I groan against this cock.
“Oh that feels good”he moans and does it again. Then it is back to my thigh and then back to my cunt. I am twitching, moaning, trying to suck him but also trying to breath and crying out all at the same time. Just when I think I can’t go on it all stops.
“Get a dildo”
I don’t need to be told that twice. I shuffle across the bed and grab a glass dildo out of my bedside draw.
“Now fuck yourself so I can watch you” he says as he directs his cock back into my willing little mouth.
At first that is what he does, just watches as I suck him and fuck the dildo slowly into myself but then he reintroduces the crop on my thigh lightly at first but then harder. So much sensation is overwhelming and I am groaning and moaning again but barely moving the dildo. He brings the crop down on my cunt again, catching my hand.
“Don’t stop” he growls.
He repeats this every time I slow down. Faster, deeper, harder, fucking yourself for me, slip from his mouth. He is trusting his cock into my mouth now too, fucking my face like it is a cunt.
I can feel tears sting my eyes as he uses me like this. Not because I hate it but because it makes me feel raw and exposed and wounded and so intensely turned on. It’s so hard to describe, if it not something that works for you what I wrote there will be absolutely bemusing to you but if it is then I think you will get that feeling of being totally stripped bare of yourself.
Eventually I am mumbling round his cock, seeking those words from him that will tip me over the edge.
“Come you dirty little bitch” and I do and moments later so does he, filling my mouth full of his jizz as the last spasms of my orgasm throb through my cunt.
He pulls his cock from my mouth and nudges me over so he can finally join me on the bed. The crop is discarded on the floor, the glass dildo on the bed beside me and I curl into his body happy, grateful, relaxed. It’s perfect.
Now here I am laying in that same bed post orgasm having just laid here and played it all back in my mind. I am fairly sure if I looked under the bed the crops would still be where he dropped it. Tomorrow I will put it back where it lives behind the door of my office. I don’t have much affinity for it if I am truly honest. It definitely has its place and it’s uses but it is mostly not a tool that I look forward. Although maybe that is exactly what I do like about it. Not the sensation but that fact it is hard, that I don’t really enjoy it, that it is more about endurance and being challenged. That when and if he uses a crop it feels like he is being mean because he likes to be mean sometimes and I guess if I am honest I like mean sometimes too.