My boy toy yelped when the whip cut into his buttocks. His hands were tied securely to the headboard of the bed with wispy red chiffon scarves, while his legs were secured to the posts in spread-eagle fashion. A pillow under his tummy lifted his bum into the air so that I could deliver my blows where they could do the most good. The welts stood out on his slender backside.
I stuck my hand under his body to grab his cock. It was standing tall. With my fingers around the stem, squeezing and rubbing, I flicked the whip through the air and onto his lower buttocks twice in quick succession. I was sure that this 30-something old could take this level of punishment, and later be fun to have sex with.
"Yeow, please don't beat my any more! I will do everything you want, mistress!" Dennis Tumutis cries for mercy were music to my ears. "Haven't I been good since Thursday? I have not let you down, have I?"
I ran my palm over the welts feeling the heat of the pain I had inflicted on him. "No you have not. This weekend has been fabulous. I am only sorry that it is over," I rubbed him gently, soothingly. Although he was my sex captive for the weekend, I loved him from the bottom of my heart.
***********************************************
I have wanted Dennis from the first time he sang a solo in our Ol Kalou Presbyterian church, the largest, wealthiest one in the country. We were members of the choir there. His voice was rich and mellow which always made me think of the colour and texture of honey. Every time he sang, I would be so immersed in the music, and when he finished would find myself so excited that my panty was wet! I would steal a glance on either side of me at my fellow elders, fearing someone could have picked up the scent of my arousal. Such debauchery! And in church, too!
Even when we sang as a choir, I would try to catch his rich, powerful tenor, sometimes finding I was not singing my part with presence, as I should. I would comfort myself that since we were upwards if 25 sopranos it was not so crucial. My position in church, as well as the fact that my husband was a parliamentarian turned out to be a hindrance, or shackles, whenever I wanted to do something about my attraction for Dennis. It was not once I wished I was not in such an exalted, public position.
The solution hit me with the force of a hurricane as I sat in a meeting of the Kirk Session. The matter under discussion was the mission area deep inside Masailand. I had never been there and had always offered my busy schedule as an excuse. In truth I feared for my safety in such an environment. I could visualize being kidnapped there and my husband being forced to pay a ransom. What would my captors be doing to me in the meantime? My thoughts turned to the security detail provided to my husband and myself. What if I used them to abduct Dennis and take him to a remote location, where I could enjoy him to my hearts content? Of course! I bided my time waiting for a suitable opportunity.
Two of my trusted bodyguards followed him into town one Thursday evening from his shop in Industrial Area. He, for reasons only known to himself, instead of heading to the matatu stop, sat down on a bench in Kimathi Square, a very public place indeed. The security operatives were forced to change plans, and fly by the seat of their pants.
Radioing the driver of their car the security people, one woman and a man, decided to take quick action. Creating a small commotion, they pretended to have arrested a criminal and marched him off in handcuffs. The onlookers were left in a state of confusion.
In the car they sat Dennis between themselves in the back seat. "Who are you and where are you taking me?" he asked.
"We have been tracking your shady activities for weeks now. We know all the places you visit and your criminal activities," they told him, mentioning a number of places he had in fact visited.
"But I have done nothing wrong!" he wailed.
The woman made as if to slap him in the face. "Keep quiet! We have logs of all your phone conversations as well as sms messages. We know all about you!" He was blindfolded with a black cloth tied very securely. Then the man on his other side took his mobile phone from his pocket, removed the SIM card, took out the battery, hiding the SIM card under the battery compartment, but putting the battery back backwards so that the terminals would not connect. Nobody, including Dennis himself, would be able to track his movements from his phone. The security man put it in the glove compartment to be returned to the captive when being taken home.
At this Dennis subsided, not knowing what else to do. If he tried speaking again he might actually be beaten. He sat in his private darkness, unable to tell whither the car was going.
They delivered him to one of my residences in the outskirts of Ol Kalou city. As soon as it stopped the two efficiently got him out of the car.
"Where....?" he began.
"Quiet!" the woman said harshly.
They brought him into the house and to the waiting lounge I usually have those who call upon me to wait for their turn, removing the blindfold. He blinked in the sudden light. The security people then drove off back home. They would stay away from my husband's sight in case he asked them where I was, in the unlikely event that he came home.
I made Dennis stew for a quarter of an hour before he heard my high heels clicking on the parquet floor of the corridor. I grasped the door handle, lowered it a fraction, and stopped. This would cause him to wonder about whoever was coming into the room, and strike some fear in his heart. I counted to ten then lowered it all the way and swung the door open slowly.
As soon as he saw me, his face was a study in confusion. I was in high leather boots of a dark tan. The only clothing on my body was a sheer mini, showing off my well-shaped legs and a good portion of my thighs. I saw his eyes flick to them and back up onto my midriff, of which very little was left to the imagination. His eyes stopped for a fraction of a second on my breasts, bouncing lightly with my movements. I heard him gasp when he looked for my face and realised I was wearing a mask. But then I cracked the riding crop in my right hand. He flinched. Confusion reigned in his whole body posture. For although I could see his manhood was interested in what he could see before him, he did not know what to make of a woman wielding such power over him. His hands were fidgety and his back and shoulders slumped.
"Stand up!" I commanded in sharp tones. He obeyed with trembling knees.
"Take off your jacket." He did. "Your shirt, too!" Now he stood in just his dark trousers. I noted they were of good quality material and workmanship. Why does his wife lie about this man having no money? I wondered to myself.
I turned to lift the dog collar from the small table behind the door. I had left it there to intimidate him. I hoped it had. As soon as his eyes lighted upon it his eyes filled with new terror.
"Put it around your neck!" I threw it across to him. He caught it and looked at it briefly. It was white leather, with silver studs. He unclasped it, lifted it to his neck and clasped it again, all the while with his terror-filled eyes upon me. I then threw the chain at his feet.
"Hook that onto the collar!" Something like resentment crossed his face but the terror was dominant and took over again. He bent down to pick the chain, found the clip, which he hooked onto the collar. He looked the very picture of the slave I wanted him to be, with one exception.
"Take off those damn trousers!" The chain rattled as he bent to draw them off. "Give me the end of the chain!" He did.
"Now you are my slave. You will do everything I tell you to, and nothing else. Do you understand?" Naked in only his underwear, he looked at me, then dropped his eyes as he answered.
"Yes."
"Yes, mistress!" I made as if to punch him.
He repeated my words faithfully. Then I led him off to my specially built room to begin his tortures. He followed me in but I ordered him to drop onto his hands and feet. His eyes scanned round the room, taking in the rack where I could lock his hands and feet into rings as I administered various punishments. There was the padded bench where I could strap him down as I sucked his cock to full attention. He saw, but I didn't know whether he understood the use of these gadgets. His eyes rested on the wooden horse where, tied down, I could whip his buttocks and upper thighs, exciting myself to fever pitch. I pulled him closer to it.
"Place your body here!" He lifted his hands over the 'back' of the shiny dark horse, drawing his body after them, which had the effect of lifting his middle a little, and his knees off the floor. I pulled his arms down to lock them into rings fixed into the floor. I went behind him and threw the ends of leather straps fixed to the floor by huge rivets over his feet and fastened them onto the floor locking his feet firmly. From a rack on the wall, I selected a pair of paddles, one in each hand.
"Thwack!" The first one landed on his exposed backside.
"Ow!" he yelped more in surprise than actual pain.
The second one caused him to smart. I then rained a number of blows on both checks until he began squirming in pain. I noticed he was getting aroused as his cock strained against the fabric of the underwear.