The Case of the Missing Riding Crop

Slave was up early again Sunday – trying to stay on East Coast time – so I had time to plot and prepare for a suitable switch scenario for my sleeping Mistress.

Well she wasn’t sleeping that deeply …. At one point, about 4:30 am Mtn. time, she called for me ….

“Slave…. Why are you up and out of this bed so early…..”

I came back in, slid into bed next to her, held her close and explained I had my fair allotment of sleep and was up working on my “homework”…. That seemed to mollify her, so I continued to coo and cuddle her until she was back in a sleepy comfort zone, allowing me to slide out of bed, finish the blog, and prepare….

Taking the lead from SFP’s recipes for home made spreader bars, I commandered one of our daughter’s older, disused ski poles. With some black leather ankle cuffs from our toy collection, a cable tie and a ski pass lanyard, I improvised a very efficient device for Mistress’s restraint…. The preview photo from yesterday show’s the end result.

When the sun was beginning to color a sky that had begun to cloud up to the West over night, I calculated Mistress had enough of  her “beauty rest”, and came back into our bedroom. Slipping into bed next to her, I spooned against her, waking her with some soft caresses along her hip and thighs, my mouth pressed against the back of her neck.

Soon she was fully awake, and I handed her the laptop to read the morning’s entry while I assembled the other supplies I would need.

“It’s that time, Mistress….”

After a trip to the bathroom, she surrendered her lush, naked body to my custody for the duration.  The red cuffs were locked on her wrists, linked close together in front.  And then I pulled out the spreader bar….

“What’s that, Slave…. “

“Isn’t it obvious Mistress….”

No doubt intrigued, she lay back on our bed, and meekly allowed me to tighten the black leather cuffs around her ankles, assuring that her legs could not be pulled closed to deny me access.

But there was one further surprise in store.

“OK, Mistress, slide your legs around the side of the bed and prepare to stand up….”

“Huhhh?  I can’t stand up with this contraption on me….”

“Oh yes you can …. Here, let me help you….”

I leaned down, helped pull her upright …. She was playing possum a bit now…. And took her weight on me, before guiding her a few feet away from the bed. We stopped under the eye hook that had been screwed  into the over head viga (wooden beam) in the center of our bedroom.

(One wonders what my visiting Mother in Law thought about that accessory when she used the cabin earlier in the fall).

Before Mistress had time to lodge her protest, her bound wrists was connected with some colorful climbing rope to that eye screw, and Mistress was upright, standing on those splayed legs, held up by the rope linking her wrists to that solid beam.

“Not fair Slave….. “

“Oh really…. “

I came around in front of her, one arms around her my tongue forcing its way between her protesting lips, my other hand sliding down between her spread legs.

“But I can smell your arousal already Mistress…. And feel it….”

Surprise: Her lips were already plump, damp, ready to be fucked. I swirled a finger there for a while, making her wriggle and wimper, her head thrown back.

I could have made her come in an instant.

But I retracted that damp digit, holding it to her nose, pressing it against her lips.

“Taste yourself, slut….”

She did.

“You, don’t like, Slave….”

“Oh but I do, Mistress…. I’m addicted.  But first things first.”

I stepped back, walked over to retrieve the riding cop she had used on me Saturday afternoon…. It had been next to our “toy bag.” But … no longer.

“Damn.  I swear that riding crop was right here, Mistress….”

She expressed indifference with a shrug. No loss to her, after all.

But….that gesture seemed to convey something more sinister.

“Did you hide it from me, Mistress …. Tuck it away somewhere so it would be MIA on switch day?”

She laughed.

“Why would I do that Slave?”

What a tease.

I stepped back to her.  A sudden hard slap from my palm greeted her bottom. She lurched, tugging at her restraint.

“Ouch….. , that hurt Slave…”

I added a few more spanks. She jerked against my palm, squirming to avoid it.

“I’m sure M would handle this hidden crop scam much more firmly than I will, Mistress.”

“He might, Slave….”

That gave her something to contemplate, as I let her languish as I did a more thorough search of our room and the adjoining closet.

But still no crop.

“Well, Mistress… hiding the crop only ratchets up your punishment….maybe that’s what you intended?

“But I did not hide it Slave….”

Another slap to her ass.

“Silence…. Unless you want to confess and tell me where you put it….”

That silenced her, at least for a few seconds. Enough time for me to step into the kitchen and retrieve a substitute implement. Taking Aisha’s lead, a grabbed slim wooden spoon, no hole in the middle to make those lovely marks, but it would do in a pinch.

I did some evil brandishing of the spoon to show Mistress what was in store.

“Oh no…Slave… that might hurt.”

I had gotten her attention.

And apparently it did hurt . As the spoon landed solidly on Mistress’s helpless bottom I was rewarded with all sorts of whining, moaning and complaints. And her butt was taking on a nice rosy glow.

Maybe I was getting  into the M zone…. No easy feat.

But I stopped when it seemed I had taught her the proper lesson, letting my hand linger on that warm bottom, and dip between her ass cheeks….  confirming that she was every bit as sodden and wanton as I expected. Within seconds those moans of pain were replaced with a different sort of moan.

Then I retreated, to her apparent displeasure, to snap a few photos to share with you and M.

I put down the camera and reached for the Hitachi.

“You’ve been a good girl, Mistress… despite hiding the crop… I think you’ve paid your debt for that crime, so maybe you are entitled to some “early release””.

I shed the dark blue robe I’d been wearing until now, approached her from the rear, naked, my firming cock pressing between her cheeks. She wriggled a bit to greet it. 

My left hand reached around her, toying with a nipple, as my right hand thumbed on the power tool and pressed it gently between those splayed thighs.

Mistress’s response was electric. Her hips thrusting forward to catch the vibrations, her legs straining against the spreader bar, frustrated in their inability to grip it closer….

But, too soon, I felt those familiar vibrations from her core….

I swiftly pulled the Hitachi away, clicking it off….

Still clinging to her, I scolded… “were you just coming Mistress….without asking permission?”

“Almost Slave…..but  not quite”.

I wasn’t so sure that she had not slipped one in, but I took her at her word.

“Shame on you,,,, Let’s start again… but you need to beg….”

This time I thrust the Hitachi between her legs from behind… pressing it up against her sensitive and needy parts….gently at first, then with more purpose. It had a quick impact….

“Ohh … please may I come Slave.”

Her head was thrown back against my shoulder, her fragrant hair thick and wild, against my face.

I was in a merciful mood….

“Yes, Mistress…. Feel free…”

And of course, within seconds, she was pitching over the edge, hanging from her bonds, squeezing her thighs as best she could against the churning tool. Her cries of delight were a symphony to her humble Slave.

But it seemed a shame to end things there, and I had certain needs that were calling to be filled… or in this case be the filling.

I unhooked Mistress from the overhead viga, helped her to the bed, then took the rope and lashed her still bound wrists over her head to another  eye screw mounted at the corner of her bead.

Now she was on her back, her knees bent, ankles still connected to that converted ski pole. 

Very vulnerable.

So vulnerable that after some soft caresses designed to renew Mistress’s energy level, the Hitachi was redeployed, to the usual devastating effect.

She begged some more, and then, after I had given permission, she begged for me to turn the tool off, ovepowered by all that stimulation.

As she settled back into the bed, spent, I freed her ankles.

“It might be hard for me to fuck you with this pole down there, Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave…. And now I need that cock….”

She got it, all right. First, with me straddling her mouth, feeding it to her, allowing  her to lavish it with attention.

She does that so very well, her velvety tongue and soft lips gliding and swirling along that growing shaft ….

Ahhh.

But I  hear Mistress waking now. She’s probably wondering why I’m not in bed next to her …. Keeping her warm. Ready to worship. 

So I will leave the rest to your imagination.

(Oh, BTW…. The riding crop turned up later in the afternoon. Somehow I had not noticed it pressed up against a door jam, a curtain hovering over it.

Oops.)