Our Tenth Anniversary

Part 1 - Not In Public!

So far, the weekend had been one of the best that we’ve shared. On the previous evening, we’d begun celebrating our tenth anniversary with a bottle of champagne, romantic music, and some of the most passionate lovemaking we’ve shared since our honeymoon. We had even fallen asleep early, lying in each other’s arms, and holding tightly as if it were our first and last time.

The morning began just as wonderfully. We awoke, still tightly entwined. However, that didn’t last long. Shortly after we’d opened our eyes, and reaffirmed our eternal and infinite love, we began to touch softly, and kiss. We each explored the other’s body with our mouths and hands giving in to our love, and to the lust we’ve shared since the first day that we met. We played gently beneath the sheet and blanket, not willing to let the covers slip from our warm bodies. Soon, she wrapped her soft legs around my hips, and pulled me closer. I pressed myself against her, trying to get ever closer. Each of us wanted to be inside the other. We wanted to be one. We hugged, kissed, and slowly pressed against each other until we discovered that my manhood had slid inside her without the slightest effort. It seemed that I could not get close enough to her or her to me. We each were drawn into the other, and our spirit was one--a celebration of our love.

Nothing could have been more perfect. Slowly we moved our hips forward and backward, and up and down. We stared into each other’s eyes. We kissed deeply. We rolled to and fro, patiently, as we pressed our bodies tightly together, and released slightly from the hips, in a slow and deliberate rhythm. We made love. And, we made love until we exploded together in the rapture of our mutual passion.

We held each other for a long time afterward. My erection had long since subsided, even though I was still inside of her. We didn’t want to separate, but eventually we had to give into the calls of nature.

We raced to the bathroom. I let her win.

After we were dressed and showered, we downed a couple of bagels, and packed up a change of clothing. Plus, she packed her entire bag of toys, and a purse which she rarely carried. This made me wonder a little about her plans, but whatever they were, they couldn’t be too bad. I packed the camera bags, and finished putting all of our gear in the car. Soon, we were making our way to New Orleans via the back roads. We stopped off at the more well known and scenic places along the bayous and along the old river road, teasing each other sexually, and shooting dozens of photos to help us remember this day.

Finally, we arrived in the French Quarter by the early afternoon. It was a very bright and cool springtime afternoon. My beautiful wife had reserved a small bungalow at the the edge of the Marigny. We unloaded the car. I made a couple of cocktails, before presenting her with a diamond ring. Just to spice things up a bit, I gave it to her from one knee as I proposed all over again. At first she seemed to think that I was playing, but once she looked into my eyes, and saw the quality of this new ring, she accepted my proposal all over again. Nothing could have been more perfect.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing like we were tourists in the Quarter. We roamed from antique shop to antique shop, and from bar to bar. We heard some great Jazz and Blues. We had a wonderful late lunch or early supper, and took some excellent photos from the Riverwalk as the sun went down. Finally, a little tired from all the walking; we started the long march across the Quarter and back to our little weekend get-away. It was time to relax awhile before a big night on Bourbon Street. That’s when things started to get a little strange.

We were walking hand in hand, just passing the time with small talk when she let go of my hand, and stopped. She ordered me to do the same! I took another step forward, and turned, taking a couple of steps backward. I fanned my arms out with my palms upward. “You comin’?” I asked.

Her expression stopped me dead in my tracks. “I told you to stop. Is there a problem?” she spoke very slowly, softly, and cooly.

The smile on my face turned into an open mouthed gape. Palms still upward, all I could think of doing was raising my arms a little further from my sides. I stared like a complete idiot.

In the same menacing tone, she told me to put my arms down, shut my mouth, and to drop to my knees. Then, she reached into her purse, which, I was sure, would soon answer the question that I had the entire day.

“What’s with the pocketbook,” I asked for no other reason than not knowing what else to say. She rarely carried a purse, and never in the Quarter. Somehow, I knew the answer would turn out to be self-explanatory.

My arms fell to my side, but soon came right back up again. I wasn’t going to kneel down on that sidewalk. I wasn’t going to kneel down on any sidewalk. There was no way. We’d played these games before, but never in public. I had no problems with letting her top me tonight. The thought turned me on, but not now, and certainly not in public. However, before I could get the first syllable of protest out, she ordered me, again, to my knees.

She took a couple of steps forward, pulling a collar from her purse. “Put this on,” she ordered, while I could do nothing but shake my head slightly. She stepped right up to me, and looking up coolly into my eyes, she grabbed my crotch hard, and said, “If you don’t do this thing for me—Right now—you may never see another anniversary.”

I mulled her remark over for a few minutes, and knew she would not leave me over an unplanned D&S game. Well, at least, it was unplanned as far as I was concerned. Upon further consideration, I realized that she must have made extensive plans. There was more to come, and she was deadly serious.

Looking from side to side, I began to drop to my knees in front of her. She released my family jewels. A few people glanced momentarily in our direction. I took the collar from her, and began to put it on, as her hand went back into her purse. The next thing I know, she brought out a menacingly evil looking little riding crop which I had never seen before.

She lowered the purse and raised the crop to just above my eye level. I looked around again to see that people were now staring as they walked past. A couple of guys were walking backwards, and pointing. She dropped the crop hard upon my upper chest. It stung like hell, and the audible slap had stopped the spectators in their tracks. She whacked me again in the same spot. I flinched, and tried to avoid the gaze of the onlookers. She stepped forward again, and reached behind my neck, grabbing my long pony-tail. She snatched the back of my head down, and moved in close to my face.

“You’re going to be my slave boy tonight,” she whispered. For emphasis, she pulled a little harder on my hair. “Aren’t you?” she continued.

I nodded as best I could, considering the circumstances.

“I didn’t hear you,” she said aloud this time.

From prior experience, I knew the proper response. I managed a raspy, “Yes, Mistress.”

The tone of her voice was steadily rising. “I still didn’t hear you, and neither did these people.” She motioned to the onlookers with the crop.

My response was the minimal that I thought I could get away with, but that wasn’t enough. Even though the growing crowd heard my reply, she wanted more. “Tell all these people what you are.” Again, she motioned to the onlookers with the crop.

There was only two ways to end this. The first was to just stand up, and walk away, but I knew that I wouldn’t. The second was to get this humiliation over with, and to do what I was told. Maybe, that would satisfy her, and we could continue to the bungalow. I was about to answer when the crop came down on my back. “These nice people are waiting. Aren’t you going to tell them what a worthless piece of shit you are?” She spoke loud enough for the whole block to hear.

The crop came down on my back, again. Finally, in a voice just loud enough for the nearest people to hear, I said that I was ‘Mistress’ slave’. I felt a hard tug on my pony-tail, and the crop landed once more.

I grunted quite loudly.

She came up close, whispering, “These nice people are waiting on your answer.”

She let go of my hair, and stood up. The little crop hovered over me, waiting.

Perspiration collected on my brow. My throat was dry. I looked around at the expectant audience, without making eye contact. Then, I surprised myself as the words escaped me. In a loud, clear voice I exclaimed, “I am my Mistresses’ slave… She is my Goddess… I am her property to do with as she pleases.” I wanted to crawl in a hole, and hide from what had to be the corniest words I have uttered in my life.

I heard a few chuckles, and even a brief round of applause. I do not know how many people had gathered to see my humiliation, and no longer cared. My Mistress squatted in front of me, adjusted my collar, and tauntingly said, “Now, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?”

Before I could answer, she had taken a handful of my genitals, and ruthlessly used it to force me to my feet. “Follow me, slave,” she demanded, and continued on toward the Bungalow.

I followed obediently behind. The sound of the rowdy onlookers soon faded into the background. For the remainder of the walk, she never once looked back in my direction. At the gate to the courtyard of our bungalow, she ordered me to unlock the gate, and go to my knees. Finally, she looked in my direction, but only to hook a leash to my collar. Then, she stepped through the gate, tugged at the leash for me to follow, and ordered me to close and relock the gate.

A few of the other guests were gathered around the courtyard, seated on the patio furniture, and downing Hurricanes, and Daiquiris. On all fours, I followed at her heels. The door to our little apartment seemed miles away. A few jovial words passed between my Mistress and the other guests, but I wasn’t paying attention. I just wanted to get inside, and away from the others. That’s when I heard her say, “Ya wanna see?” My heart dropped as I dutifully obeyed her orders to roll over and play dead, to sit up, and to speak. The other guests laughed aloud as she patted me on the head, and said, “Good doggy…Now, open the door.”

I unlocked the door, and finally followed her inside.

Part 2 - The Pain

Our bungalow was more of a studio apartment with a small loft. The room was L-shaped. The door opened between two full length windows, and below a skylight. To one side was two wicker chairs with bright floral designs on the cushions divided by a wicker end table. To the other side was a wicker loveseat, with the same cushions behind a glass and wicker coffee table. Just beyond the loveseat were the door into the tiny kitchen, and then, the door to the equally small bathroom. Above the kitchen and the bathroom was the loft with a double bed, and nightstand. The loft overlooked the back L of the apartment, which had a queen sized bed, two nightstands, and a large changing chair with a high back, and another with a low back. Gaudy, framed, posters of previous Jazz Fests adorned the walls. The floor was sealed brick polished smooth by a couple hundred years of foot traffic. It had once been a part of an immense courtyard.

Once inside, Mistress ordered me to undress in the corner by the door, and look only at the wall. Luckily for me, the vertical blinds were already closed. I stripped down to my boxers, as she rummaged through some things over by the bed. My back was turned facing the wall. My erect cock sprung up through the open fly of the boxers. It had been a long time since I had so many hard-ons in such a short period of time. I stared proudly.

Mistress pulled me from my reverie. “Everything!” she commanded.

Quickly I dropped the boxers after a short “Yes’ Mistress.”

Before I could straighten up completely, she ordered me to grab my ankles, and not to move until further notice.

I complied by stepping back a bit, and spreading my legs, then leaning forward. My head rested against the corner, and the sides of my feet pressed against the front leg of the loveseat, and the pane of the full length window.

She rummaged through some more things for a short time more. Then, I heard her little footsteps on the polished brick floor as she approached me. Next, I felt the soft tails of a leather cat-o-nine tails run gently across my back and buttocks a few times. Just as I was beginning to really enjoy the feeling, the cat raised up for a moment, then came down hard on my upper back and shoulders. The force seemed to push all the air out of my lungs in one big grunt.

A couple of seconds later the cat came down again, only slightly softer than the first. Then, again, harder. Then, again. The strokes began to speed up, tearing at the flesh of my back.

Now, I am no masochist, but my wife, and mistress truly loves to inflict a good whipping. Previously, though, she held back considerably. This time, there was no restraint. I did not know how many blows came down, but with each successive blow I felt that I could not stand another. I held on to please her. Then, when I knew I could take no more, the barrage stopped. The pain continued.

Mistress inspected her work. She rubbed, pinched and scratched my stinging flesh. I writhed and hissed. Luckily, I ‘m not very vocal in these situations. If I were, she would have been forced to gag me to prevent an unwanted visit from the police, or a nosey neighbor.

This whole time she had been talking to me. She told me things like how I deserved the flogging, and she told me what a worthless wimp I was for only taking ten lashes. I thought the number was closer to thirty, but the pain was distorting my perspective. Unfortunately, the pain also affected my better sense. I told her, respectfully, how I felt about my flogging, and at first, got only a sadistic little laugh. That, however, was the end of my brief fit of manly pride, the pride that made me think I could take whatever she could dish out. The flogger began to rip at my back again, and again. Then, it tore across my ass for several screaming blows. Then, it tore at my back, again, before returning to my ass.

I hissed, and barked, and danced, and wriggled. I puffed out muted screams each time the big cat came down.

Without pattern, the blows alternated in location and intensity. They just rained randomly down, ripping out my very soul. I wanted to scream and howl. I wanted to let go of my ankles, rise up and snatch the instrument of my affliction away. I wanted to stop it so badly, but I could not, or would not!

My body had now gone rigid. My hands were still clasped tightly around my ankles, but my balance was gone. I had fallen forward a little. Much of my body weight resting on my head and neck, as my head pressed into the corner of the wall.

Mistress saw this and let up the barrage. She took hold of my hair, pulling me up straight. She pushed the flogger toward my face so that I may hold it with my teeth. Then, she pushed me face first back into the corner. Fully upright this time, my hard cock pressed firmly into the seam of the two walls. The flesh of my back and buttocks burned like the fires of hell. I marveled quietly to myself that my dick was still hard.

My wonder, of course, didn’t last long. Mistress dug her long nails into the burning flesh of each of my ass cheeks. I rose up on my toes, and pressed my now aching hard-on more forcefully into the corner.

She continued to scratch, rub, and to pinch the fiery skin of my abused ass. “You are such a fucking wimp,” she observed with her lips pressed to my ear. Her hot breath made her words seem even more menacing. She continued to hiss into my ear, while she kneaded my ass cheeks, and occasionally laid a loud and painful open handed slap on the hottest parts. “That wasn’t even twenty-five whacks, you fucking sorry excuse of a slave husband. You’re not even worth the energy. You’re a fucking pussy!” At that she once more dug her long nails into each of my nether cheeks, causing my dick to jam painfully back into the corner.

That said, she pulled one ass cheek away with her left hand, and then pressed two fingers hard against my partially exposed anus.

I groaned, and my knees went weak for a moment.

Mistress put both of her hands back onto my ass cheeks, and let her fingernails work their tortuous magic. She spread my cheeks as far apart as she could. Her breath was still hot in my ear. “Yeah, that’s it! You’re a real pussy waiting to be fucked. Aren’t you?” Her right knee came up fiercely between my cheeks, slamming into my anus. I do not know what was worse, her knee driving hard between my spread cheeks, of the force slamming my rigid dick back into the corner.

I kept quiet.

“I’m talking to you, bitch. That’s what you want, isn’t it. You want to be fucked like the worthless cunt you are.” Her left hand now pressed hard on the back of my head, driving my face and the dangling flogger into the corner. At the same time, she reached around me with her right hand to grab my hard cock, and squeeze. She continued to whisper harshly into my ear, “This hard little dick says it all. You want me to let you be a little whore. Don’t you.” She squeezed harder for emphasis. “You want to be a cock slut, giving your worthless ass up to whoever has something to put inside it. Do you really think that I’d let you have that much pleasure?”

She squeezed my balls one more time, released, turned, and said coolly, “Not hardly.”

I stared down at my hard little cock pressed into the corner, and waited for instructions. I heard her sit on a nearby chair, and open a magazine. Then, she ordered me to fix her a drink, and that I could have one if I felt I needed one. I put the flogger away, and made a couple of drinks. Then, she motioned me to the floor in front of her to rub her feet. The cool brick on my hot ass felt great. I wanted to lay my back down, too, but Mistress needed her feet rubbed.

We finished our drinks, and she ordered me to run a hot bath for her.

Afterward, I was allowed to wash her gorgeous little body. After all this time together, she still excited me more than any other woman had ever dreamed, or even more than I had ever dreamed. Like most Cajuns, she was petit, but extremely sensual. She had perfectly formed little round orbs for ass cheeks, a tiny waist, and lovely breasts with pierced nipples. Her short auburn hair framed her beautiful face. Her skin was a medium olive tone, clear and soft. Her features seemed small and delicate. Her lips were not large, but still full, and very kissable. Her eyes were a light grayish-green color. From the first day that I met her, her eyes seemed always happy and full of love.

I dried her off, and she told me to wash my own repulsive body. Squeezing my balls once again, she told me how a woman’s body is so much more attractive than a man’s. She let go, and turned away. Leaving the bathroom, Mistress said with her back to me, “Shower, and when your done, I want to see you crawling to me on your knees. You have ten minutes.”

She left me alone. I shaved, showered and brushed my teeth as quickly as possible. I finished with a few minutes to spare.

Part 3 – More Surprises

When I had finished cleaning, most of the pain had subsided. I left the bathroom crawling as commanded. Some techno pop was on the CD player. Mistress was lying on the bed. She was wearing a black leather teddy, thigh highs, garter belt, and spiked heels. I wanted to worship every inch of her body. I crawled toward the bed, hoping for the opportunity, but she was talking on the phone.

She moved the mouth piece away for a second. “Get me another drink,” she demanded, and went back to her phone conversation in hushed tones.