Parachute Cord: Role Play

This is a sequel to "Parachute Cord." It should stand alone but you might enjoy it more if you read that one first.

Getting spanked as part of foreplay can be real fun. My husband, Steven, likes to spank me and occasionally, I'll spank him too. It's part of our effort to keep our sex life fun by trying different things. We've been married for fifteen years and before that, we were sexually exclusive for two years. After that time, you're completely familiar with each other's bodies. That means you know what they like and what works for them but it also lets you fall into patterns that frankly, can get boring.

Steven and I fought against falling into a rut by looking for ways to be creative--new positions, new activities, and new locations. We'd throw out ideas to each other and, even if we didn't do them, teasing each other was fun too. But often, we would try something out to see if we liked it. Some things work and some don't but playing with each other is always fun.

That's how I found myself tied to the bed last week as Steven teased me.

Like a lot of other parents, our sexual activities can be constrained by having kids around, in our case, two pre-teens daughters. As a result, we're generally restricted to things that we can do in our bedroom and ones that are quiet enough to not raise questions.

Fortunately for us, the girls go to summer camp each year and while they're gone, we can go all out. Steven and I somehow got intrigued by bondage but we waited until after we dropped them off at camp to try it. It was worth the wait.

As I said, spanking can be fun. We worry about the noise so mostly, our spankings are usually more symbolic. During our weeks alone though, they tend to be harder and noisier and we use more than our hands. We've had good conversations about this. That means that we're both fully comfortable with the limits we've set and the safe words that we will use if one of us needs to slow things down or entirely stop them. So far, we haven't had to use the safe words but we both feel better knowing that they're there.

Lying across Steven's lap or having him across mine is, of course hot. In our alone time this summer, I've had my butt warmed a couple of times as foreplay and each time it led to really good sex. One very loud orgasm got us talking about what else we might do along those lines and our creative minds came up with what we hope will be a great way to end our alone time.

Today we're going to spice things up even more by combining a spanking with some role play. That's how I find myself standing in front of

the judge

who has just found me guilty.

I'm not completely sure what it is that I'm guilty of and it doesn't matter. We haven't specified a historical period but

the judge

says something about indecent dress and distracting the male servants from their work. Well, I did walk around the house topless yesterday. And my plan was to distract Steven as he worked on a project, so maybe I am guilty at that.

Standing in front of

the judge,

I'm wearing only a ragged gown. Actually, it's an old nightshirt made from t-shirt material and it was tattered enough to be heading to the rag bin soon. It's long enough to cover my body to about mid-thigh and, yes, that's all I'm wearing. During my "trial," my hands were secured behind my back (we had to use the rest of the parachute cord for something) and this pushes my chest out. I'm starting to feel aroused by the scenario and what will be coming so my nipples are already poking against the thin cloth.

"You are sentenced to thirty-six lashes upon your naked body"

the judge

announces to everyone in

the courtroom

. "This sentence shall be immediately carried out at the whipping post in the public square. You will then be placed in the pillory for one hour."

We had agreed on a general scenario but we hadn't spoken about what my sentence would be, leaving the details to Steven's creative mind. As I listened to my sentence, I'm thinking that thirty-six lashes may be too much but I also start to feel some wetness developing down there. I'm wondering how the citizenry might take advantage of me as I'm locked helplessly in

the pillory

and I suspect that Steven has some ideas for that too.

I'm led from the

courtroom

to the

public square

. Actually, we're still in our living room. In front of the sliding glass door to the back yard, we have some plants hanging from hooks which are securely mounted in the ceiling. Steven had taken the plants down before lunch, replacing them with short lengths of the parachute cord, hanging from each hook.

The judge

transitions to

the scourger

who will administer my punishment. He roughly shoves me underneath the hooks, facing me out toward the backyard, and unties my arms from behind me. My left arm is raised and he expertly ties a loop in the cord and secures it to the hook. He does the same thing with my right arm then tightens the cords so that my arms are fully raised above my head. I pull against the taut restraints but I'm unable to escape from their bounds.

Looking out at our backyard, the tops of our neighbors' houses are visible but the fence and hedges block their windows. I know that they can't see me standing there but my mind fills with an image of a crowd taunting me as they wait for my sentence to be carried out.

Steven leaves the room and leaves me staring out the window at my imagined crowd. When he comes back a few minutes later, I see that he is now naked above the waist, wearing just sweatpants. Standing in front of me,

the scourger

grabs my t-shirt at the neckline and quickly rips it apart. He's helped in this by the starting cuts that I had made to the front and back of the neckline. The front of my gown is torn from my neck down to my waistline and my bare breasts are now visible to anyone watching from the yard, or they would be. I close my eyes and again picture a jeering crowd watching the start of my punishment, eager to see the hussy humiliated at last.

The scourger

grabs my boobs and squeezes them. It's definitely not the gentle breast play I normally get but it's not extremely painful either. Just enough to fit the roles that we're playing and playing my role I whimper and beg him not to hurt me.

He finally lets go of my mounds and walks around to my back and out of my view. There, I feel him grabbing the neckline of my ragged gown and tearing it down the back side. It's mostly separated above my waist now, hanging from my shoulders and held up only by the position of my arms which are tied to the hooks.

The scourger

picks up a large, scary looking knife and cuts the gown's sleeves outward from my neckline. When he's done, he is able to pull the gown completely apart and it drops away leaving me standing there fully nude. The crowd that had gathered in the public square is growing by the minute and, as

the judge

had ordered, my body is now exposed for their entertainment and pleasure. I feel the shame of my exposure but I also know that this humiliation will be the least of my concerns when my physical punishment begins.

Steven had teased me this morning about having a special surprise for me but he wouldn't tell me what it was. Now, I see that

the scourger

is holding a vicious looking cat-o-nine tails. This makes me sort of nervous until I see that it's a thick leather belt with the last foot or so carefully cut into thin strips. I relax a bit since there are no knots and no metal barbs like the cats used for old-time navy punishments that weren't subject to our limits. Of course, I knew that Steven wouldn't exceed any of the limits we've agreed to, including no blood and no permanent damage.

The scourger

moves back behind me and I'm no longer able to watch what he's doing. This deep voice intones "one of thirty-six" and I catch a shadow of movement before he brings the whip down on my upper back, toward the right shoulder blade. The lash definitely stings but the level of discomfort again fits into our scenario. It is no more painful than spankings I've received and other things we've done earlier, so I relax.

However, as a maid-girl sentenced to a harsh punishment, I let out a scream and beg him to stop. I'm careful to make sure that my begging doesn't use our safe word and of course,

the scourger

ignores my pleas.

"Two of thirty-six" he shouts out before bringing the whip down again. Once more, it strikes my upper back but this time on the left side. Again, the lash of the whip stings and I continue to beg him to stop.

I hear "three of thirty-six" before I feel a lash that comes from the side and strikes across my whole upper back. Where it strikes the areas that had been hit earlier, the sting is intensified. The general warmth in the punished area helps me get deeper into my role so my screams intensify.

Numbers four and five come also down on my upper back which is starting to feel a dull ache along with a growing warmth. Despite--or maybe because of--the increased soreness on my back, I'm feeling more and more aroused. Number six again crosses the whole upper back and this time, my yell is only partly me playing my role.

Steven might have recognized the difference in my noises because

the scourger

turns his attention to a new area. I hear him intone "seven of thirty-six" and feel a lash landing solidly on my right butt cheek. Eight hits my left cheek then nine and ten alternate cheeks and eleven, and twelve cover them both. The sting that I had felt on my back has been transferred lower down and the skin on my stinging butt is starting to feel a stronger heat. I feel this warmth in my pelvis as well.

"Thirteen of thirty-six" he shouts out and he strikes further down, now on the back of my thighs. The next three lashes also land there with the blows moving along the backs of my legs. The final one was near the top of my legs and it wraps around my leg so that the tips of the whip also hits the front of my leg. They miss my pussy but I wonder if he did that on purpose and what else he has planned. We're now half-way through so I suspect that there will be more surprises to come.

The scourger

returns to my back. "Seventeen of thirty-six" I hear. This time he is standing to my left and strikes across so that the whip lands solidly on the right side of my back. I don't know if he intended this either but the end of the tails wrap around my side and the tips land on the outside of my right breast. I absolutely wasn't expecting that and let out a high yelp. Steven stops to examine my boob, rubbing the now red skin before he decides that there is no damage so

the scourger

resumes my punishment.

The sting there really wasn't bad and my sound was more surprise than pain. I don't use our code for either slowing down or stopping. Steven correctly interpreted this to mean that I was doing okay and

the scourger

lands eighteen and nineteen in almost exactly the same place. My boob is now stinging and

the scourger

pauses lashing me so that he can painfully pinch my now erect nipples.

Steven is right handed and he has to adjust so that

the scourger

can find his target for twenty, twenty-one, and twenty-two. These wrap around the other side and manage to strike the outside of my left breast, balancing the soreness.

I close my eyes and imagine the crowd cheering him on and urging him to do more lashes there. Fortunately for me, Steven can't hear the crowd which is only in my head so

the scourger

returns to my upper back, landing lashes twenty-three and twenty-four directly on my back then twenty-five through thirty back on my butt. We're more than two-thirds through my sentence and I'm honestly not sure if I'm relieved that my punishment is almost over or disappointed that it will soon end.

Steven plays his role, formally calling out the number of lashes before each one. I play mine, crying out as each blow lands and whimpering between the lashes, begging him to stop. Both my upper back and my butt have gotten sore but not extremely so. There is a consistent sting and a nice, almost pleasant warmth spreads out over the areas of my body that have received the lashes. Plus, my midsection feels heavy with my arousal and I realize that if Steven actually leaves me in

the pillory

for the second part of my punishment, I'm not going to get any relief from that tension. I assume that he has to be equally horny and I wonder if he's going to let me off early so we can engage in some bad behavior.

But, we have six more lashes left. I know that there is no way that Steven is going to pass on these and he doesn't. Taking pity on my sore back,

the scourger

relocates so that he has a new area to punish. When Steven and I had spoken about this scenario, we had agreed that hitting my lower back over my kidneys might be too dangerous so

the scourger

carefully avoids striking me there.

Instead, for thirty-one the whip lands directly against my right side, below my upraised arm. This results in the whip wrapping around by body and the tips striking hard, directly on the front of my right boob and my nipple. This time, my screech is real but since I still haven't used our safe-word,

the scourger

repeats it there for lash number thirty-two. He changes his position and stance and thirty-three and thirty-four come in from the other side. This allows the whip to wrap around fully striking my left boob.

My back is sore. My butt is sore. Now, my breasts are sore. In my mind, I hear the cheers of the crowd. They're thrilled by my back which has been beaten until it is bland and blue. Now, they're excited by the blood dripping down from my breasts and they call for more.

The scourger

moves in front of me where I can watch him standing at an angle. With a shock, I realize why he has chosen this particularly location and I'm terrified to understand how he plans to finishing my sentence. I hear the crowd calling out, telling him where the final two lashes should go and I beg him not to, yelling out "No! No! not there."

He yields to the demands of the crowd and ignores my pleas. "Thirty-five of thirty-six" results in a direct strike to my left breast and I yell out from the surprise and the sting of the whip on my nipple. Through my tears--mostly role-playing but now partly real, I hear "thirty-six of thirty-six' before a hard stinging erupts on my right breast.

I'm left standing there, now sobbing, with my arms above my head, still bound to the

whipping post

. Finally, my arms are untied but instead of Steven leading me to our bed to help me deal with my arousal,

the scourger

pivots me away from the window to a wooden dining room chair that had been placed there earlier. Using lengths of parachute cord, he ties my arms to the top of the chair and then my legs to the legs of the chair. I stand there with my naked body still exposed to the crowd. The way I'm tied forces me to stand partly leaning over in

the pillory

, further increasing my discomfort. My breasts drop down against the top of the chair and the stinging there returns.

I'm not sure how long my whipping had taken and I don't know how long I've been left standing there in

the pillory

. Closing my eyes, I again see the crowd and suffer the rotten food that they throw at me and the abuse from the village men who come to me, squeezing my boobs and poking my pussy.

My time in

the pillory

seems like forever before my sentence is declared over and I'm finally released. My back is sore as I stand up but when I stretch my muscles, I can again feel the pain and the heat of my whipping. Steven leads me up the stairs to our bedroom. I think he is surprised when I push him down to the bed, yank off his sweatpants, and climb onto him. I impale myself on his erect cock and move my pelvis up and down until I climax and he does too. I lay across him, my breasts laying on his chest, still mildly sore as I think about the scenario we've just finished.

Finally, I get up and take a long, hot shower. As I wash, the effects of my whipping dissipate from my body but not from my mind.

The next morning, we had to straighten up the house before leaving to pick up the kids. We are careful to clean up any signs of our activities so that they will be able to assume that our lives were boring while they were gone. I finish cutting up my old nightshirt and put the remains of it with other cleaning rags. We put the cat-o-nine tails in our toy box, make sure that we hadn't left any parachute cord tied to places it might be found, and we returned the plants to their hooks.

As we make the drive to the camp, Steven and I talk about ideas for the next time that we will be able to play.