The Flogger

She bent over before him, thrusting her rear out more than necessary. Her hair hung down in a fine curtain, hiding the half smile that may have been seen on her lips. Her hands gripped her slim ankles as she listened to his voice.

"Subs do not swat a Dom's behind with a crop!" She remembered with perfect clarity the shape and texture of his cheeks. The light on his tanned skin, the shadow between the two curves of muscle. He'd been naked when she walked in and the crop swung without thought behind it. She grinned under the hair as he moved to one side, grinned at those cheeks in her memory, grinned at her own impulse that flicked her wrist and brought a tiny cry from his lips and a blue flash to his eyes; brought her here: bending and awaiting her punishment.

She felt him take the waistband of her pants, heard a hiss as the razor-edge sliced through cloth and idly wondered what she would wear when she left this room. His fingers moved again, slipped under the elastic of her underwear, a soft sound and she shivered at her unexpected nakedness and the cool air on her warmest place.

He stared down, eyes tracing over her tiny hands wrapped tightly around her ankles, gliding over the satin sheen of her calves as the light bathed them, lingered over her thighs, stopped at the swell of her buttocks. His eyes caressed her, explored her shape, drank in her skin and strained to see the shadowy half-defined shape of her sex, clothed only in the dimness between her thighs.

He liked what he saw, knew before seeing that he would; he shivered at the thought of caressing with his long powerful fingers. He cleared his throat and swallowed. "subbies who swat a Dom's ass will be punished."

"You know this?"

He nodded at the affirmative from down near his feet and turned to the table, looking over the objects there.

He ignored the cane because he didn't want to mark her body, not today. He considered the whip, a beautiful masterpiece of leather - too harsh. Next, he pondered the merits of the crop. Fitting, he thought - but too light for his muscles. His gaze travelled on, over the crops and floggers and settled on the one that was pictured in his mind. It was a black leather-wrapped handle, half the length of his forearm, thirty millimetres in diameter, a splay of thick, soft leather strips, 15 millimetres wide.

He stood to her side and dropped the leather strips across the small of her back, watching the ripple of muscles under her skin as she shivered at the touch. Fine gooseflesh prickled across her skin as he took his time, feeling the distance, judging the angles and noting how she pushed her ass outwards, knowing why.

She shivered as the leather landed on her skin, her breath caught and released at the touch, knowing that the moment when she would know the man's intentions would come in the next touch of the leather on her skin. Her head turned as she glanced discreetly sideways through her cascade of hair, took in his legs, feet parted for balance, muscles taut. Her eyes moved up over his thighs to settle on his cock as it swung.

He raised and lowered the flogger in an easy movement of his wrist, slapping her cheeks with the strips, a gentle, almost weak blow. He felt his own pulse beat in his throat as his wrist cocked back again and he flashed the leather onto her again. The pulse quickened slightly at the sight of her white tender skin between the splayed dark anthracite of the leather bands; it fixed the rhythm of the blows as he began to flog her, wrist tilting back and forth and at her first tiny sigh, felt a new heaviness in his sex as his blood pumped in time with the slap of leather on flesh.

She felt the pulse. Felt it as the beat of a drum in a slave galley - powerful, somehow inevitable, felt it deep within herself before she realised that it was her own heartbeat.

She eased her ass back a little more, luxuriating in the gentle strokes, eyes fascinated by the heaviness she saw in his swinging manhood, measuring the sudden transition from a swing to a rubbery springiness, seeing veins appear like a river delta, drank in the darkening of his skin.

She felt a flush appear. On her face as she was nearly upside down, on her buttocks that began to feel a sting as his strokes grew heavier with each stroke, still landing like the beat of her heart. Her breath grew deeper as she became aware of a growing dampness, a feeling of...relaxing, a stirring deep within her.

She watched the beat in his cock, saw the pulse that drove the flogger, felt it's echo in her neck and it's kiss on her reddening buttocks. She saw the pulse filling his shaft, watched the ridge of the head tighten under the foreskin, saw it swell with each stroke until the foreskin rolled back to reveal the head, swollen, purple and tight like a fat ripe plum. She saw the glistening sheen of his precum that coated the head of his sex. She heard a moan - her own - slip between her parted lips, carried on a breath and drawn by the leather on her cheeks and that skin rolling back like a curtain.

He felt the first throb. Felt it as he felt his cock stretch his foreskin too far, felt the head rush into the open as the skin surrendered to the force of desire. He heard a moan, husky and deep, as it eased from her lips. He moaned too, in his mind.

His voice was raucous as he told her:

"Kneel."

She knelt, pressed her shoulders down to the cold floor, she felt her nipples harden even more against the cold stone and held her ass high as she felt his foot push her knees wide apart. Her hands moved under her body, wanted to drift between her legs to caress the growing dampness there, but drifted to her nipples instead; not to protect from the cold stone, but to squeeze, to pinch in secret.

The flogger began it's insisting beat once more, harder now, the sting marked by the redness, the redness underlined by their breathing, panting with each smack of the strips on her skin. She moaned, louder this time, pushed her rump backwards and up as a warm sliding feeling in her lower belly made her thrust her swollen slit back, peeling it open as his skin had peeled back, the sheen of her nectar glinting in the light as she offered her cunt to him, wanted his eyes to touch her petals of pink flesh.

She felt her body surrender, felt herself opening, offering her entrance, offering her dark little star to the leather, to him. She moaned again as he growled deeply, an animal whose eyes were probing her wetness, probing her desire as she wished for the sting of the leather on her sex, moaned louder as she thought of the slap against her anus, moaned in frustration as the curve of her cheeks protected her delicate lips and kept her from fulfilling her need.

He watched her. His wrist and forearm a barely seen blur in the corner of his eye. He watched her cunt open like a sweet ripe peach, its nectar gleaming. He watched her need grow as her sex seemed to flower for him, he growled low and deeply as her entrance winked at him in a clench of want.

He sidestepped around her, his arm unstopping, until he stood, feet either side of her head. Unaware of her longing eyes as he lifted a foot and placed it between her shoulders, pinning her gently, marking his dominance.

His wrist and arm whipped down the line of her backbone, guiding the leather at last between her cheeks as she cried out in triumph and the leather bit at her anus. She felt herself open, given to his leather, a gift for his pain, all he wanted to take from her: she was his.

She saw through the curtain of hair, his cock. Swollen, angry, throbbing with power, traced by veins of deep purple against the dusky flushed skin. A long bright string of precum oozed from the tiny hole and hung down from his tip, trailing almost to the floor. Her tongue crept out hungrily, vainly reaching to taste him.

He flogged, hard now, knowing it was pleasure and pain both. He flogged, reaching out further to let the tips reach down her wide valley to curl under her and whip her aching cunt, to splash in her wetness, to splatter her juice on her thighs as he dreamed of closing his mouth over her sweet hole, to suck orgasm after orgasm from her yielding body until she felt as if he would suck her very soul from her depths.

She screamed her pain and desire as the leather took what she offered, he roared his mastery of her flesh and her need; their cries mixed together as she began to grunt in the onset of orgasm and he dropped to his knees, feeding his cock into her mouth. He reversed the flogger, reached behind her and ploughed the hard leather handle back and forth through her sopping slit, butting her clit as she came.

He thrust, deeply, unhesitating, taking her throat for his use and plunged his shaft deep. His wrist tilted the handle until it she quivered, held still, a keening noise from deep in her vibrated his cock as he impaled her cunt on the handle and fucked another climax from her as his balls drew up and his uncontrolled spasms made him thrust his pelvis hard into her face, and his seed filled her as he took her body and cried his conquering of the girl who'd taunted him with the crop.

Long hours after as they lay still entwined, her teeth showed in a tiny gleam as she thought she might flick his cheeks with the crop again.