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What if she wanted…
Usual disclaimers: Fantasy, Do not try this at home, keep away from children, void where prohibited or illegal
Chapter 1: Candy
I found it very hard to concentrate on work come Monday. The thought of Candy waiting at home for me, after her words on Sunday kept me horny for the whole day. By 4, I couldn’t handle the distraction anymore, and left early.
I decided I needed some implements but, this time I would not get them at the sex toy shop. I wanted the real thing. Near home, there was an elegant saddle shop. Some of the mansions nearby kept horses, and this shop catered to that clientele. I had only been there once, but I knew they had the real thing. I had also wondered how many of these crops, whips were actually used on horses, and how many on … a different kind of chattels.
I browsed around the shop, and, under the pretext of making a wall decoration, bought a springy crop, a long bullwhip and a flat leather strap, of the type favored by the Argentinean Gauchos. On impulse I also bought a number of leather thongs. “For the frame” I said, although I do not think the salesman was fooled at all.
When I finally got home, Candy met me at the door. It was obvious that she had been thinking along the same lines I was. She was wearing only a mid-thigh white see-through teddy, a white thong, and high heeled strap sandals. Her brown shoulder length hair was freshly done, and she had heavy eyeliner around her hazel eyes. As I gazed, actually, as I ogled her at the door, her nipples started getting erect over her B sized breasts. I entered the house and closed the door, before someone called the cops, this being a rather conservative neighborhood.
I showed her my purchases, and told her of my plans for the evening. After dinner, which only I would eat, since I did not think it would be good for her to eat a real meal before her ordeal, we would repair to the family room in the basement, for the upcoming festivities. It turned out she had had a heavy lunch, since she expected something in the same vein. “I also took tomorrow off at work, in case, you know, if I can’t go” I felt a stirring in my crotch already.
She served me diner. Oysters on the half shell, and a baked loup de mer, my favorite fish. We washed this down with a bottle of Perrier Jouet, cuvee Belle époque, my favorite bubbly, which I had been reserving for a special occasion. I did let her have the bubbly, I did not think it would interfere.
Not soon enough, I had her proceed to the basement, taking an ice bucket and my leather acquisitions with her. I followed her soon after, with a bottle of Glenlivet, and an Arturo Fuentes Canones.
When I arrived at the family room, she, bless her heart (or her pussy) had laid out the whip, crop and strap on the side table, besides the leather thongs. She was kneeling, head bowed and eyes downcast beside the coffee table. Her thighs were open, and her hands, palms upwards rested on her knees. She did not raise her eyes when she heard me enter. I knew then she had been into my Gor books.
I had thought to have her serve me a Scotch prior to starting the proceedings, but she looked so darn cute kneeling there that I was not going to deprive myself of the sight of her, so I served my own damn Scotch.
The more I delayed, the more I could see her belly muscles tremble. I approached her, and could see her lower lip quiver. If I didn’t get started, I was going to have to fuck her right then and there.
One problem with the family room is that we have never set it up as a dungeon. I never thought I would need one. That would need to be addressed tout de suite, but not now.
“Stand up, and take off your teddy”
Candy stood up to her 5’1’’ height, enhanced by the 5” stiletto sandals, and slipped off her teddy. Had I not been wearing chinos, my dick would have stood out like a tent pole. I saw dewy moisture on her nether lips. I probably could have smelled her excitement, except for the aroma of my Artuto Fuentes. I took another puff (to steady myself)
“Put your hands behind your neck, stretch your back, thrust out your breasts, now turn”
She did, slowly pivoting on herself. I downed my scotch.
I draped her over the coffee table and, with the leather thongs tied her hands and thighs to the legs of the table. Her head hanged over one end while her luscious ass shone, like a full moon, invitingly over the other. I cut through her white thong with my switch blade.
I pick up the strap. Show it to her, and move behind her. Thwack! The first stroke is to her right cheek, where it leaves a faint pink welt. She gasps but does not scream. Now on the left cheek. A whimper. My gut contracts, as I bring down the strap on the right cheek, harder this time. A short scream. The left now, and a louder scream splits the air. This will not do, the basement has two windows, and it is not soundproof. I find a handkerchief and stuff it into her mouth, fixing it in place with two of the leather thongs.
Tears are making her mascara run. This is no accident; she usually uses thick water proof mascara, that doesn’t run even in the pool. She is using this runny mascara on purpose to enhance the effect. The foxy bitch!
“That was only the strap” I say, “What will you do when I use the whip? And the crop on your tits?” She looks up at me, and says nothing (because she can’t) except for a little whimper coming out of her throat.
I resume her strapping. When I am done giving her ten on each cheek, I stop to take a breath. I free Candy from the table, but do not remove her gag. Obediently she stands, and does not even try to remove it. I tell her to serve me a glass of Scotch, with two ice cubes. She does so, prettily.
“I am going to whip you now. Stand under the lamp, and raise your hands to each side of it” The lamp in our basement is made out of elk antlers, and will do nicely. I tie her hands, on each side of the lamp, to the antlers, and extend the whip along the floor, sizing it and the distance up.
The first cut of the whip falls right under her shoulders. Her scream is muffled by her gag. I do it again, lower down, and am rewarded by another shriller scream. The gag works, it should not be heard outside. Again lower down, across her flanks, and across the top of her ass cheeks, now a nice soft pink from the strap. She shakes uncontrollably with each stroke of the whip, and I look at the top of the lamp suspiciously, I have to judge how long the roof will hold, it was never designed for this. Three more across her ass cheeks, and three more across the back of her thighs, pause. I take my sweaty shirt off. On second thought, I also take my pants off, and stand there nude, rampant. Candy half hangs from the lamp, trembling.
“Well done” I bring her down from the lamp, and tie her, supine over the coffee table. Her legs spread open giving access to her pussy. I show her the crop. “We are almost done for today. I will give you now 5 strokes of the crop on each tit, and then five more on your pussy” Her eyes widen, her head shakes. “Don’t worry, I will fuck you in the ass afterwards, so it won’t be too bad” She hates anal intercourse, and we have very seldom done it that way, only when she is very drunk. I suspect she will back down on her decision tomorrow, so I will take advantage of it tonight.
Her screams as the crop bites into her tits are even shriller, her breath, labored. Her hair is slick with sweat; her mascara is now a black mask, like a lace domino over her face. I touch her pussy with my finger and notice she is still wet. I stand by her side, facing towards her legs as I bring the crop down on her exposed twat, hard. Her scream, even through the gag is extremely loud; again, and again, then twice more.
I turn to see her. Her tears mingle with her sweat. I remove the gag.
“I love you” she says
I free her from the table, and have her stand. She does so, painfully. We go to our room, where, in front of the mirror we both survey my handiwork. The white of her skin contrasts with the angry red wheals of the whip, criss-crossing her back. Over her butt, the pink color of her strapping is highlighted by the whip marks. Over her breasts, the red cuts of the crop adorn her mounds. Her pussy is swollen from the crop. She gives me a wan smile. “You did not draw blood” “Maybe next time” I say.
She goes to the bed, picks up a tube of KY from her nightstand, leans over and spreads it on her rear entrance, then smiles at me once more, and burying her face in the pillow, gets on all fours on the bed. My dick finally gets its dues.
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