The Crop - Callieanne

She opened the curtains letting light flood the small bedroom, he whimpered in his sleep as the bright light disturbed him, the sheets tumbled off his body exposing the marks she'd laid there with her crop the evening before. She stepped closer, admiring his sleeping form, the dark hair against the pillow, his breaths even as he slept, closer still, she laid her head near his chest listening to his heart beat. As her hair brushed his bare skin, he stirred, waking up from his slumbers, he greeted her as she taught him, his voice softened with sleepiness "good morning, my Mistress". With this she laughed, knowing she'd left him to sleep late and his greeting was wrong by 1 minute. She pointed at the clock and told him "try again, mine", he was startled to see the time, expecting to have been woken earlier, most mornings he was awake long before now to bring his Mistress her fresh coffee and sometimes requested breakfast in bed but today was different, his body displaying the evidence of the evening before that allowed him the luxury of laying sleeping in her bed till such a late hour.

Her memory drifted, she'd tied him, first his wrists, the rope soft and pliable against his willing limbs, the wood of the cross gleaming in the candle light, then, his ankles, making sure he was supported by the lean of the cross. She'd circled him first, inspecting every inch of him, her fingers lightly running over his skin. Her delight in her possession evident in gleaming eyes as she surveyed it. He'd been tied with his back on display, his head turned to one side against the velvet cushion. She'd seen the brief look of fear in his eyes as he realised how she'd immobilised him for her pleasure, then the slipping away from her to his special place as her voice, kept soft and low helped him drift with her reassurances. She'd fondled him, her fingers caressing the plump round orbs of his ass, she'd lubed it well and then the anal plug too before inserting it, his protests slight before turning to moans as she'd wriggled it, her other hand between his thighs caressing his length, feeling the ropes as he tried to move. Each sound he made sending her higher, her palms itching to spank that beautiful ass knowing the plug would only intensify the feeling, she slipped out of her stilettos, the ones he'd carefully placed on her feet as he'd dressed her for this evening, his face looking up to her with adoration as he'd fastened the delicate straps at her ankles. Standing behind him she took a breath, inhaling the scent of him, the frisson of arousal mixed with his usual freshly washed smell, time seemed to stand absolutely still for that moment. The soft music she'd had playing in the background changing it's tempo now, the beat a sultry one that rocked you from the inside. She brought her hand down against his skin, laying the first of many strokes that evening, he gasped, and she just let out a soft moan as his buttocks moved beneath her hand. She made him count, wondering how well he would keep track as the slaps against his skin got harder. She lost herself in his body, listening to his voice as he counted her spanks, light at first, warming his skin, he'd made it to 20 without skipping a beat, she rubbed her hands over the reddened flesh, feeling what she'd done to him, allowing him the gentle soothing before starting again, this time harder, his voice a little shaky now as the sounds echoed around the room, the music faster, stirring her emotions almost as much as her squirming boy did, his voice softening in timbre, almost begging for the next and then the next, she varied the speed, the motion, her target, each touch to be a surprise him. 35 then 50, he was barely keeping up with her. Deciding the time was right to tease him, she went to the wooden table, grazing her fingers over the implements laid out there, lifting one then another to within his view, watching his reaction as each became visible to him. The one that seemed to make him shiver the most chosen, her crop, the thing she'd only ever dragged lightly over his skin before now, or swatted him cheekily when a finished chore hadn't been done quite to her satisfaction but tonight he knew her mood and this wasn't going to be the playful swats he'd had in the past. She was unused to the desire to hurt and cause pain and had almost shocked herself, but now she wanted, needed even to see what he could take for her. Her head almost spinning with desire as she held the leather crop, lifting it to her nose and filling her lungs with the scent of it. She stepped towards him in her stocking feet, barely a sound on the wood floor, swishing the crop through the air to startle him, make him aware of her return. He uttered two words, the voice giving him away, the slight hint of begging mingled with the question she knew at another time he would ask if permitted "my Mistress?". He wanted this as much as he feared it, to feel the sting of her crop, the gift of pain she could give him, pain to take him out of himself, to free his mind from the mundane, to take what she could mete out to him. She began, letting the crop fall lightly against him to start with, building up slowly, not only for his sake, but for hers, she watched and listened carefully to him, the all important trust in each other evident. He writhed against the ropes as each stinging blow landed, but purred at her the count, the begging for the next, " one, my Mistress, may I have another". Her focus turned inward on them, the boy and his Mistress in the middle of the room, the rest a blur, only his body, his voice affecting her, the whoosh of the crop "two, my Mistress, may I have another" and so it went on.. finally she laid the crop down, her breaths rapid, her body aching with lust for him. She pressed her mouth to hot skin, kissing the marks she'd metered out to him, her hands delving between hot thighs, taking hold of his erect cock in one, the other buried between her own, she uttered one command to him "beg, mine". His answer came fast, the long drawn out "Pleeeaasee, my Mistress" that she'd grown to love, she shivered hearing him, knowing each would tip over the edge fast. She worked one hand over his cock, feeling the rumbles in his belly that told her he was close, pressing her body against his as her other fingers found her clit, massaging it deeply, again, she told him "beg, mine" this time the words "please may I cum for you" dripped from his mouth, his voice shaky, needy, she felt him conquered by her power over him. She answered him quickly "now, mine". She felt him cum hard, her fingers bathed in his sticky fluids, spurring her own orgasm, it hit her in waves, her cries filling the room, her thighs damp from her own moisture. She lifted her fingers to his mouth, making him lick each hand clean. They were both sheened in sweat from their exertions, his body marked, the prints of the crop decorating his cheeks, his thighs. She moved quickly, untying the ropes from his wrists first, letting him lean against her for support as she untied his ankles, holding him close as they made it to the soft fur rug, piling a few cushions beneath his head, making herself comfortable, pulling a blanket over them to warm rapidly cooling bodies, she held him as he shivered, the tears falling silently from his eyes, she dipped a finger into the liquid, licking with her tongue. She whispered to him gently "I never felt that you were so MINE before tonight"

They'd lain there till the candles flickered out, cradling each other in the low light till finally even the rug didn't camouflage the hardness of the floor, she'd risen, holding his hand, leading him to her bed. As ever he'd managed to kneel beside it as she ascended into it, he asking permission to join her before laying beside her draping the covers over them, spending the rest of the night wrapped in each other in sweet slumber.