My house is small. The property is larger. So I have more privacy than many people. That was the main reason I bought the house. Complaints from neighbors about late night 'noise' can be embarrassing.
Candy looked around the house and smiled. I knew she had realized the advantage. With the air conditioner going, we might have been on a desert island.
"How long have you been here?" She asked.
"You are the first." I answered the question she didn't ask. She smiled.
"Thank you."
"A glass of wine?"
"Love one."
I poured her a dry white wine, just slightly cooler than room temperature. She sipped and held it in her mouth for a moment. I watched. Her brown eyes were warm and soft, her lips as full as her figure. Her brown skin was dark and her smile appeared to be almost a laugh.
We had gotten to be friends on a web site where we exchanged stories. I appreciated her enthusiasm and her sense of joy. Candy was a woman who knew how to enjoy life.
Taking her hand with the wine glass in it, I brought it to my lips and sipped some. Holding it in my mouth until it was warm and rich, I leaned forward and captured her full lips, which opened to my assault as I pressed the wine into her mouth.
She moaned, sensuously.
Her lips were alive and vibrant beneath mine. Our tongues battled and bathed in the taste of the wine. I moved her hand to the table and we set the glass down.
I wanted to take my time. To savor each moment. But it was important to establish what we were here for, and who was in control.
Putting my hands on the front of her pale green blouse, I demanded, "You aren't too attached to this blouse, are you?"
Her eyes glowed into mine as I grasped the sides of the shirt and tore it open, buttons flying and a soft cry escaping those moist lips.
Her full heavy breasts strained against the fragile black lace of her bra. I removed the shirt and dropped it to the floor. Reaching around her I released the bra and her breasts settled, warm, heavy, sensuous, and inviting. My mouth descended on a nipple and bit softly. Candy groaned and her hand caressed the back of my head. We were ready.
Taking her hand and our wine, I led her to my playroom. She trembled, deliciously, at the Andrews cross and the array of paddles and canes and floggers, artfully arrayed. I let her sip some of her wine, while I put on the tape. I had found that I enjoyed listening to Edith Piaf, very softly, as I worked. It seemed, somehow to play to my mood.
Taking Candy's wine, I sat on my chair, and said, "You have too much on."
Looking at me, and glancing at the cross, Candy sensuously stripped off her boots and slacks, and peeled off her panties that matched the bra that we had left behind. She was twenty or more pounds past ideal, but on her it looked good. I could feel the heft of her full breasts and the seductive weight of her ass in my hands even as I watched her move.
Candy didn't bother folding her clothes, just cast them aside, turning her body for me to enjoy. And I did enjoy it. She moved nearer and knelt before me.
I sat sipping my wine, and enjoying her pose, and the tension I let build. Finally, she could stand no more, and she looked up at me.
"I did not tell you to look up at me."
"No, Sir. "
I rose and crossed to the cross. She waited. She was good. I enjoyed the full shape of her lovely ass as she knelt waiting for me to call her.
"Take your position."
Without a word, she crossed to the cross and lay against it, her soft belly pressing to the wood, her full breasts flattened and overhanging the edges. Roughly, I grasped her wrist and placed the padded strap around her wrist. The color in her face was flushed and her nipples were distended. I knew without touching that she was wet.
I drew her wrist up onto the cross piece. The link of chain that attached to the wrist strap was easily draped over a strong hook on the cross. I made sure to stretch her arm as high as it would go. Then the other. I left her there, pressed to the warming wood, while I sipped my wine. I could see Candy's back moving with her breathing. A little fast but not too much. I smiled.
Taking her ankle, I strapped it and spread her feet, which put more strain on her arms. When the second ankle was similarly spread, she was not only helpless but the strain on her limbs was obvious, and the effort to keep some balance was beginning to show.
I sipped my wine, while I watched and then as the music changed to John Mayall, I took the cane and ran the tip along her arm and under her arm and across the flattened press of her lovely breast, stroking the areole and with a flick striking her nipple where it peeked past the wood. Her lovely body jerked , but she said nothing.
My cane continued down along her ribs and her flank, down to her knee, and then back up along the inside of her quivering thighs. How soft and delicate the paler brown skin of the backs of her knees looked. I leaned down and let my tongue tease the hollow there.
The cane moved up between those legs. With a gasp of breath she moaned as the cane pressed up between her ass cheeks to probe her moistness then to gently tease the opening of her anus.
The cane moved down and to the other knee, but just when she thought she knew the pattern, it flashed across those lovely brown globes and her ass quivered with the assault. Four times, not fast, not slow, I let her feel the sting of my cane. She writhed as best she could with her restraints and whimpered.
I put the cane away and finished my wine. I brought her wine and fed her a sip, then with my finger I traced the red streaks of the caning with the coolness of the wine. Candy shuddered.
Taking my time, savoring her movements and the breathing, which was much faster now, I took down one of my favorite paddles. Double sided leather, with a good flat surface, nicely squared off to leave a pattern and creases. Standing beside her, I played with her distended nipple and caressed her stomach, and her thighs. Candy gave occasional tremors of movement as she surrendered to the feelings that must be coursing through her body. The body she had now given to me.
The paddle moved gently along her buttocks, then pressed to the globes so that she knew what was coming.
This time I moved up and down in a steady, relentless pattern that stretched from the middle of her thick thighs to the rise of her full buttocks. I continued until she screamed and her body convulsed in what I realized was her first orgasm. I waited. When she was still, I moved away and sat in my chair. Her poor thoughts must be in a spin. Was she wrong to cum? Was I angry? Had she broken some rule? Could she have stopped that powerful climax?
In truth, I was thrilled. I loved the smell of her and the moisture that glistened on her thighs, now a brown, with highlights of rose. I felt my own arousal, and knew that when I at last gave in to my release it would be at least as violent and as lovely.
I moved up behind her silently. My lips touched her neck. Candy shivered and moved her head to allow me access. I bit her, but not that hard. My tongue teased her ear and she tensed, so I, of course, did it again.
My hand dipped into her sopping vagina. So hot, and so wet. I licked my fingers and pressed my sticky lips to hers. She hungrily accepted them. My hand caressed her tender ass as she writhed under my attention.
I moved to the wall. I have three floggers. One is small and I use it primarily on the mons, or the breast. Very focused. The large one is great for the full body flog, and is light enough that most women can endure its caress for a long session. I chose the middle one.
The three foot thongs were quarter inch leather, tapering at the ends. The knots were tight and unevenly spaced. The long handle was thick and had a good spring to it. An altogether enjoyable piece of hand-crafted art. The man who made it for me was quite proud of it.
I held it up for her to see. Her breathing quickened. I smiled. I let the thongs trace lightly across her skin by way of introduction. Then I waited.
Clearly, Candy was trying to decide whether to brace for the flogging or to just surrender. She knew that she could stop it with the word, but we both knew she would not.
The first stroke across the rise of her buttocks must have seemed almost gentle, compared to the paddle. The slow cadence of the flogging, and the careful spacing grew in a slow accumulation of inescapable sensation until Candy's body was a writhing stinging burning mass that strained at the straps and chafed on the board as she groaned and yelled and screamed and I felt my need growing and then she screamed as before and gave herself up to an orgasm that left her almost unconscious.
I don't know if she was aware of my easing of her bonds, but when I laid her down on the rough fabric of the padding, she writhed beneath me, and looked up, as I bit her nipples and knelt between her wet slick thighs, and her warm brown eyes looked up at me, and she smiled as I placed my cock at the wet opening and with a hard quick thrust entered her.
Candy gasped and her legs locked around mine as I drove in deeper, knowing that the assault was rubbing her raw sore back against the rough mat, as I squeezed her full breasts and as my lips took hers again, I drove in again and felt the mind numbing explosion of my own climax, even as she screamed into my mouth as she surrendered to her own.
We lay together for a while, finishing her too warm wine and listening to early Johnny Cash.
"Rest. Later, I will show you my wax."
Beside me, I felt her shiver.
Candy looked around the house and smiled. I knew she had realized the advantage. With the air conditioner going, we might have been on a desert island.
"How long have you been here?" She asked.
"You are the first." I answered the question she didn't ask. She smiled.
"Thank you."
"A glass of wine?"
"Love one."
I poured her a dry white wine, just slightly cooler than room temperature. She sipped and held it in her mouth for a moment. I watched. Her brown eyes were warm and soft, her lips as full as her figure. Her brown skin was dark and her smile appeared to be almost a laugh.
We had gotten to be friends on a web site where we exchanged stories. I appreciated her enthusiasm and her sense of joy. Candy was a woman who knew how to enjoy life.
Taking her hand with the wine glass in it, I brought it to my lips and sipped some. Holding it in my mouth until it was warm and rich, I leaned forward and captured her full lips, which opened to my assault as I pressed the wine into her mouth.
She moaned, sensuously.
Her lips were alive and vibrant beneath mine. Our tongues battled and bathed in the taste of the wine. I moved her hand to the table and we set the glass down.
I wanted to take my time. To savor each moment. But it was important to establish what we were here for, and who was in control.
Putting my hands on the front of her pale green blouse, I demanded, "You aren't too attached to this blouse, are you?"
Her eyes glowed into mine as I grasped the sides of the shirt and tore it open, buttons flying and a soft cry escaping those moist lips.
Her full heavy breasts strained against the fragile black lace of her bra. I removed the shirt and dropped it to the floor. Reaching around her I released the bra and her breasts settled, warm, heavy, sensuous, and inviting. My mouth descended on a nipple and bit softly. Candy groaned and her hand caressed the back of my head. We were ready.
Taking her hand and our wine, I led her to my playroom. She trembled, deliciously, at the Andrews cross and the array of paddles and canes and floggers, artfully arrayed. I let her sip some of her wine, while I put on the tape. I had found that I enjoyed listening to Edith Piaf, very softly, as I worked. It seemed, somehow to play to my mood.
Taking Candy's wine, I sat on my chair, and said, "You have too much on."
Looking at me, and glancing at the cross, Candy sensuously stripped off her boots and slacks, and peeled off her panties that matched the bra that we had left behind. She was twenty or more pounds past ideal, but on her it looked good. I could feel the heft of her full breasts and the seductive weight of her ass in my hands even as I watched her move.
Candy didn't bother folding her clothes, just cast them aside, turning her body for me to enjoy. And I did enjoy it. She moved nearer and knelt before me.
I sat sipping my wine, and enjoying her pose, and the tension I let build. Finally, she could stand no more, and she looked up at me.
"I did not tell you to look up at me."
"No, Sir. "
I rose and crossed to the cross. She waited. She was good. I enjoyed the full shape of her lovely ass as she knelt waiting for me to call her.
"Take your position."
Without a word, she crossed to the cross and lay against it, her soft belly pressing to the wood, her full breasts flattened and overhanging the edges. Roughly, I grasped her wrist and placed the padded strap around her wrist. The color in her face was flushed and her nipples were distended. I knew without touching that she was wet.
I drew her wrist up onto the cross piece. The link of chain that attached to the wrist strap was easily draped over a strong hook on the cross. I made sure to stretch her arm as high as it would go. Then the other. I left her there, pressed to the warming wood, while I sipped my wine. I could see Candy's back moving with her breathing. A little fast but not too much. I smiled.
Taking her ankle, I strapped it and spread her feet, which put more strain on her arms. When the second ankle was similarly spread, she was not only helpless but the strain on her limbs was obvious, and the effort to keep some balance was beginning to show.
I sipped my wine, while I watched and then as the music changed to John Mayall, I took the cane and ran the tip along her arm and under her arm and across the flattened press of her lovely breast, stroking the areole and with a flick striking her nipple where it peeked past the wood. Her lovely body jerked , but she said nothing.
My cane continued down along her ribs and her flank, down to her knee, and then back up along the inside of her quivering thighs. How soft and delicate the paler brown skin of the backs of her knees looked. I leaned down and let my tongue tease the hollow there.
The cane moved up between those legs. With a gasp of breath she moaned as the cane pressed up between her ass cheeks to probe her moistness then to gently tease the opening of her anus.
The cane moved down and to the other knee, but just when she thought she knew the pattern, it flashed across those lovely brown globes and her ass quivered with the assault. Four times, not fast, not slow, I let her feel the sting of my cane. She writhed as best she could with her restraints and whimpered.
I put the cane away and finished my wine. I brought her wine and fed her a sip, then with my finger I traced the red streaks of the caning with the coolness of the wine. Candy shuddered.
Taking my time, savoring her movements and the breathing, which was much faster now, I took down one of my favorite paddles. Double sided leather, with a good flat surface, nicely squared off to leave a pattern and creases. Standing beside her, I played with her distended nipple and caressed her stomach, and her thighs. Candy gave occasional tremors of movement as she surrendered to the feelings that must be coursing through her body. The body she had now given to me.
The paddle moved gently along her buttocks, then pressed to the globes so that she knew what was coming.
This time I moved up and down in a steady, relentless pattern that stretched from the middle of her thick thighs to the rise of her full buttocks. I continued until she screamed and her body convulsed in what I realized was her first orgasm. I waited. When she was still, I moved away and sat in my chair. Her poor thoughts must be in a spin. Was she wrong to cum? Was I angry? Had she broken some rule? Could she have stopped that powerful climax?
In truth, I was thrilled. I loved the smell of her and the moisture that glistened on her thighs, now a brown, with highlights of rose. I felt my own arousal, and knew that when I at last gave in to my release it would be at least as violent and as lovely.
I moved up behind her silently. My lips touched her neck. Candy shivered and moved her head to allow me access. I bit her, but not that hard. My tongue teased her ear and she tensed, so I, of course, did it again.
My hand dipped into her sopping vagina. So hot, and so wet. I licked my fingers and pressed my sticky lips to hers. She hungrily accepted them. My hand caressed her tender ass as she writhed under my attention.
I moved to the wall. I have three floggers. One is small and I use it primarily on the mons, or the breast. Very focused. The large one is great for the full body flog, and is light enough that most women can endure its caress for a long session. I chose the middle one.
The three foot thongs were quarter inch leather, tapering at the ends. The knots were tight and unevenly spaced. The long handle was thick and had a good spring to it. An altogether enjoyable piece of hand-crafted art. The man who made it for me was quite proud of it.
I held it up for her to see. Her breathing quickened. I smiled. I let the thongs trace lightly across her skin by way of introduction. Then I waited.
Clearly, Candy was trying to decide whether to brace for the flogging or to just surrender. She knew that she could stop it with the word, but we both knew she would not.
The first stroke across the rise of her buttocks must have seemed almost gentle, compared to the paddle. The slow cadence of the flogging, and the careful spacing grew in a slow accumulation of inescapable sensation until Candy's body was a writhing stinging burning mass that strained at the straps and chafed on the board as she groaned and yelled and screamed and I felt my need growing and then she screamed as before and gave herself up to an orgasm that left her almost unconscious.
I don't know if she was aware of my easing of her bonds, but when I laid her down on the rough fabric of the padding, she writhed beneath me, and looked up, as I bit her nipples and knelt between her wet slick thighs, and her warm brown eyes looked up at me, and she smiled as I placed my cock at the wet opening and with a hard quick thrust entered her.
Candy gasped and her legs locked around mine as I drove in deeper, knowing that the assault was rubbing her raw sore back against the rough mat, as I squeezed her full breasts and as my lips took hers again, I drove in again and felt the mind numbing explosion of my own climax, even as she screamed into my mouth as she surrendered to her own.
We lay together for a while, finishing her too warm wine and listening to early Johnny Cash.
"Rest. Later, I will show you my wax."
Beside me, I felt her shiver.
