The Riding Crop

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A bedtime story written specially for me by littlex.

“I’ve been waiting for you, littlex.” Your words always stir my soul and my heart and my cock, whether I am being summoned for a kiss or a slap, a caress or a spanking. This time is no different. You are dressed in a dazzling outfit. Black stiletto heels and black seamed stockings, a short tight leather skirt, and an expensive semi-sheer white silk blouse. Your dark nipples are visible through the thin fabric, and they are already hard as beautiful little berries. Your exquisite face is made up just so, your lipstick dark and bold and erotic, your eye shadow dramatic, your hair pulled back into an exotic twist. Your eyes are bright and sexy, yet inscrutable. Your voice is a mix of teasing and loving and frightening. Your smile is captivating, but I know the kinds of things that can go with being your captive.

As if reading my mind, you say, “We’re going to play with the lovely riding crop you bought for your Mistress. You think you know what you’re in for, but do you?” I hear the words, punctuated by the riveting sounds of you smacking the tip of the crop into your palm. Your smile looks strict and hungry now. Your voice went up at the end of what you said, but you were not asking me anything. You take me by the arm and lead me to the whipping horse. I quickly strip naked as instructed and bend over the black leather pad and grasp the legs on the other side. There will be no binding today, none offered or needed. You clearly can’t wait to get started; I can hear the urgency of desire in your breathing and in the tone of your voice. My cock bobs a little in time with my heartbeat as I take the position required of me.

Without any preliminaries, you smack the crop across my bottom hard. I feel the stripe as if struck by lightning and I suck in my breath involuntarily in reaction to the pain, which goes from stinging fire to burning ache as you wait and watch and admire the beginning of your artwork. The changing colours please you. White, then pink, then deeper red as a thin welt begins to rise. The tip has made a nice red blotch in its own image at the end of a lovely long red line across both buttocks the width of the braided rod. My shudder and cry are pleasing to you, but I cannot see the reaction on your face because you are behind me. I hear the click of your high heels as you walk slowly to stand behind me to my right and SMACK you whip the full length of the crop across my naked bum from the other direction. The pain is more intense, the stripe barely half an inch below the first, the line and blotch an angrier red. I lurch and cry out, but I neither relax my grip nor raise a foot off the floor. I feel I am bound more tightly than with any strap or cuff you’ve ever buckled on me. I can feel you smiling behind me now, and I can hear your breath quicken. My cock is inexplicably rock-hard in response to the two stripes across my bottom. How can the pain you’re inflicting turn me on like this? I do not ask. You would respond, “Of course it does, silly boy. You love it when Ms Catherine shows you this kind of attention! And you love making your Mistress happy!”

The click of your heels tells me that you are moving back to the left side, and without warning you slash the crop across my butt once, twice, three times in rapid succession. It truly takes my breath away and the pain sears my haunches in a way I somehow cannot believe could hurt this intensely. And I know you are just getting started. You work yourself into what seems like a frenzy whipping my backside with parallel and criss-crossing stripes as your whims dictate, and your breath becomes ragged. You pause in my punishment and walk around to bend your face down close to mine, and I see a gorgeous but changed vision inches away. Your face glows with effort and sexual excitement. Some tendrils of hair have come loose, as has your previously tight-fitting blouse. Your lips touch mine with the briefest of kisses, and then you present the crop for me to kiss. Even my very respectful kiss does not satisfy your wishes, so you take my chin in your hand and force the tip of the crop between my lips for me to suck and kiss again. You walk back around behind me and begin again on my butt. The pain is unbearable, inescapable, and yet something I know I cannot live without.

Once my bottom has begun to shine with the merged and overlapping welts that delight your eye, you decorate the backs of my thighs with two criss-crossed stripes that bring me a new kind of agony in a new place. I cannot help but lift my foot and choke out a cry of pain in response to this new focus of your attention. That brings you back around in front of my face, and I can see the same look in your eyes that I have seen when you have thrown me down on a bed to fuck me in whatever manner you chose. You reach between your thighs and masturbate rhythmically, doing an erotic dance that quickly brings you to another orgasm. Using that same hand, you wipe the tears from my face and then thrust your fingers into my mouth for me to suck the combined juices of joy and pain and lust that coat them. Why do I want so desperately to do this? I am in heaven and hell. I cannot bear what you are doing to me, but I couldn’t possibly bear to have it stop, to disappoint you, to do without the jumble of emotions and sensations that possess me, possess us.

I feel your hand under my arm and for the first time I loosen my grip and am easily guided backwards into a kneeling position before you. It is just too hot now, so you remove your blouse and stand before me with your beautiful breasts heaving up and down and glistening, the fire in your eyes stronger than ever. You slash the crop down across my quads, then kick my knees further apart and attack the tender insides of my thighs. I squeal and cry, but I make no effort to get away or protect myself. You spank my inner thighs with the tip of the crop until you have painted them just the red colour you want, and then as I struggle to control my quaking, you squat down before me and gaze into my eyes with that combination of love and lust and superiority that paralyses me. You reach out and grasp my erect cock in your left hand and raise the crop above your right ear. I know what is coming and I know I cannot stand it and I know there is nothing I can do to avoid it. You smack the tip of the crop down hard on the head of my penis, and I howl in pain. I watch you shudder through another orgasm and then set the riding crop gently on the floor beside us. You kiss me on the lips, and it takes only this kiss and two or three hard caressing strokes of your hand to bring me to an explosive orgasm of my own. I had not dared to expect this or even allow myself to yearn for it, which makes the spasms of my orgasm all the more intense, as if my entire being were forcibly sucked out through my cock. You don’t even look down at the huge mess of semen I have spurted. We both know how you will make me clean this up. But for now, for these few seconds before you stand and speak again, there is only the bliss of release after the most cleansing of ordeals, and the satisfaction of knowing how pleased you are at what you have done to me and how pleased I am at what I have taken for you.

And just in case some of you are wondering – yes, litlex HAS been punished for his audacity!

If you’d like to explore some aspect of femdom, then call me or arrange a text session through sexytexting.com or, if you’d like to get to know me a little first, look for me in the chat rooms at communitykink.com. If you just want to hang out with friends, relax and listen to some music and erotic radio, then tune in to The Magic Bus at 10:00 pm EST on Sunday evenings.

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