At this point, I found that I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Susan had to help me up the basement steps, and into the kitchen. She even went and fetched my robe, to cover my nakedness, and to keep me from getting chilled. As I slumped at the kitchen table, she prepared dinner for us. “I have to keep my girl’s strength up,” she explained.
Tired as I was, hearing her refer to me as ‘my girl’ still thrilled me. We ate together, neither of us saying very much. I assumed that Susan, like me, was processing what had occurred. It was then late, so we each went to our separate beds. I did lay awake for a while, wondering what tomorrow would bring.
As the new day dawned, I awoke refreshed, stretching myself awake. I dressed quickly in a T-shirt and jeans and went downstairs. Susan was Still sleeping, so I set about preparing us a nutritious breakfast. I heard her footsteps on the stairs, and was amazed at how my heart rate quickly as she approached.
She stumbled into the room, her hair still disheveled from her bed, eyes still sleepy, no makeup; but she looked lovely to me.
“Good morning Miss,” I said.
Her sleepy eyes did a double take. I could almost see her sleepy brain lurch into gear. “You really wish to do this?” she asked.
I fear I blushed a little, and I know I lowered my eyes, saying, “Yes Miss.”
“Very well, girl,” she replied, with a hint of a grin. She sat down at the table. “You may serve me!”
I did, practically leaping into action, eager to please her. I served her coffee, just the way she likes it. As she sipped, I arranged the rest of the breakfast – fetching things as she asked for them.
“You may also eat now, girl.” I quickly sat and began to eat. She watched me for a few minutes, and then said, “I think we should do this properly, don’t you?”
I looked at her quizzically.
She clarified: “Kneel down next to me on the floor as you eat.” A deep flush crept from my face to mycollarbone as I took my plate went over next to her. I knelt down and began eating humbly. It felt both humiliating and also somehow ‘right’.
When we had finished, I did the dishes without being told to, knowing instinctively this was my job now. As I worked, I was very aware of Susan’s eyes watching me.
As I was working she said: “I know you have shades, from yesterday. I assume you have other devices or toys?”
“Yes I do, Miss,” I answered.
There was a slight pause, and then she stated, “When you are finished, you will show me all of your toys.”
“As you wish, Miss,” I replied. I think I sounded calm, but I was anything but calm. As I said earlier, having a secret fetish was one thing; exhibiting it to another person was highly embarrassing. I had collected quite a few toys to simulate being held and tormented. Now I had to reveal all of them to Susan!
Drying my hands, there was no more excuse for delaying. With a jittery heart practically leapinginto my throat, I led Susan to my bedroom. I open my dresser drawers. I slid a chest from my closet and opened it. I started pulling things out, trying to ignore the gasps coming from Susan as she first laid eyes on my toys.
“Are those real handscuffs?” she asked.
“Yes Miss,” I answered. “They are the first items I ever bought.”
Taking them from me and examining them, she laid They on the bed. “Those are obviously lubricants and vibrators – but wow! Some of those vibrators are huge!”
I gulped, but said nothing. “And what is this?” she asked, holding up something that gleamed.
“That is called a neurological wheel, Miss,” was my answer.
“What is it for?” Susan inquired.
“The tiny tines stimulate the skin. I think doctors use them to check sensitivity.” I had never had an actual doctor use one on me, so I was only guessing.
“Don’t they hurt?” she questioned.
“It all depends on the pressure, Miss.” This I knew from personal experience, having run those sharp prongs all over various parts of my anatomy with varying intensity.
She carefully set that aside. “And this? This with all the strands?”
“That is a flogger Miss.” I looked at it almost as if it was a brand new toy, seeing it held in her hands, certain that having someone else use it on my body would be quite different than doing it to myself.
“OOOHHH! I’ve heard of those, but it never really saw one before. Interesting.” She set it back down. From the chest she pulled out a long thin item, looking at me quizzically.
“That is called a riding crop Miss,” I explained, answering her unspoken question.
“You like hitting yourself with this?” she asked, rather incredulously.
An embarrassing flush filled my face, making it burn with heat. I could not look her in the eye as I answered. “It stings – but it is somehow an exciting sting. I can explain no better than that,” I mumbled.
She smoked it experimentally a couple of times onher palm and said, “I see”. She was also fascinated by my various clamps, asking where I placed them, how tight I wore them, and so on. I finally started to relax. I saw no sign of disgust on Susan’s face, only a sort of interest and fascination.
I did hear a sharp intake of breath when she was examining my gags, though. The ball gag and the ring gag did not seem to shock her. But when she came across the gag that held a lifelike cock inside my mouth, filling it, that caused her reaction. She said nothing, however; just looked at me very intently as my face turned criminal.
However, I must admit that sharing all this with Susan was turning me on. I felt a familiar trickling feeling between my thighs and realized that in my haste to get dressed this morning I had neglected to put on any panties. I was afraid that my wetness would soon be showing through my jeans, so I subtly turned my hips a bit sideways, hoping Susan would not notice.
She continued looking through myCollection, her eyes glaiming. She caught me by surprise when she suddenly commanded, “Turn away from me with your hands behind your back!”
I hesitated only briefly as my brain processed the instructions, and quickly turned away, placing my hands behind me. In a moment I felt the cold metal at one of my wrists and heard the snapping sound made by a handcuff closing! My other wrist was soon secured in a Similar manner. This was the first time that another person had handcuffed me, and the sensings that shot through me in that moment almost caused me to climax! My knees shoot, buckling a bit, and my body swwayed – but I managed to stay upright.
“Now turn and face me,” Susan said. I obeyed. “Lean back a little,” she added.
I bent backwards slightly, causing my pelvis to move forward. Susan looked closely. “I wondered why you turned away from me,” she stated. “Now I see why,” she chuckled. Her finger produced the dampness at the crotch of my jeans. “Even looking at thesetoys excitings you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes Miss,” I stammered. I could not deny it; not with the evidence practically in her face.
To my amazement?/horror?/shame? Susan reach out, unsnapped my jeans, unzipped them, and dragged them down to my ankles! And there I was, cuffed and half naked. Having my jeans pooled at my ankles seemed to emphasize my embarrassment and vulnerability. I gulped auditively as I saw Susan pick up the riding crop.
“Turn sideways to me and bend over,” she commanded. I obeyed silently, and felt my body starting to tremble even though I had not been touched. She swished the crop through the air experimentally a few times getting the feel of it.
After a few swings, she drew her arm back, and brought it forward again, lightly smacking the crop across my bare ass, watching my reaction.
Without being bidden, I said, “Thank you Miss. May I have more?”
Judging from my reaction, Susan inquired, “And harder?”
“Yes, please, Miss,” I pleased.
“Very well,” she said. “Each stroke will be harder. You have my permission to let me know if it is getting to be too much.” I knew she was telling me this because she had never hit anyone with a crop before, and was uncertain as to how painful it was, and how much damage it could do.
She began slowly and violently struggling my buttocks, each hit gradually more and more intense. The growing pain blended with my growing excitement. My ass got hotter and hotter. I am sure that it was reddening. Moans began escaping from my lips, but I did not ask her to stop.
Finally it happened; a strike so intense that as it cracked across my butt it sent a bolt of white heat through my very core. I cried out and came!
Susan instinctively stopped, and put out a hand to steady me from falling over. I knew she could feel the ripples of my orgasm courting through me. I think that we were both amazing that I could cum in such a manner! In hindsight, I became aware that it was not the pain from the riding crop that put me over the edge. It was the excitement of being handcuffed, my ankles restrained by my jeans, pooled around them, leaving my bare ass so obscenely on display. Added to that, I was in my bedroom, the various toys of my depravity scattered around me, and this lovely woman was the person wielding the crop. Of course I came… magnificently!
“Kneel down before you fall down,” Susan advised me. She assisted me to the floor. I knelt, one should against floor and head turned to the side, hands still cuffed behind me. My burning ass was raised up, radiating its heat into the room. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, panting and shaking, but I gradually became aware of my hands being freed from the cuffs.
“Come on, girl. Get face down on your bed,” Susan whispered. As I did, she helped me remove my jeans. Then she sat by my hips and ran cool gentle fingers soothingly over my reddened flesh. These acts of tenderness touched more than myskin.
They touched my heart.
Susan, inexperienced dominant as she was, had good instincts – good intuition. Even though she had just indulged herself in the whim of using a riding crop on me, she had been careful in doing so, watching my reactions and allowing my input to prevent seriously injuring me. In doing so, trust was building; actually, trust on both of our parts. I knew that if she commanded me hold out my wrists for restraints in the future, I would not hesitate to do so.
(continued in part 6)
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