Erotic September

Claire was wearing a black latex corset. It covered her breasts and sat high on her hips. The front zipper was crossed by a row of seven buckled straps. Her red latex gloves reached to her elbows. A leather thong complemented her fishnet pantyhose. The boots came up to just below the knee; the laces were bright red.

Her customer was naked and bent in an upside-down V over her leather upholstered hobbyhorse. His ass was the highest part of his body. She had started with her riding crop. People curious about bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism - or BDSM, as it was sometimes called - often chose a crop as their first plaything. It was often mistaken for a beginner's implement.

But it could be effective, even dangerous, in the hands of someone like Claire. And she had just demonstrated her skill on this fellow's backside. His butt was now the nicest shade of red and almost glowing. He could not utter his safe word - the code word that meant "stop under any circumstance: I'm in trouble" - since a ball gag was stuffed in his mouth. They decided an extended index finger meant the same. So far, he had hardly moaned. But he would. Claire knew, after she raised a few welts.

At eh closet, she inspected her collection of whips. She had over a dozen, in all shapes, sizes, colours, and varieties. The floggers were short, with many tails. Some were longer, like her cherished cat o'nine tails. Others were not whips at all, but flat slappers and paddles. She selected her favourite cat o'nine tails. It was jet black and three feet long, with nine thick leather lashes, each cut to a point to deliver a stinging blow. She could be gentle, prolonging a flogging for what would seem an eternity, or bring someone to their knees with one blow.

Returning to her customer, she spun the whip around her head.

Whoosh... Whoosh, she swung it twice above her head, cutting the air, then "snap" as she delivered the blow to his helpless backside. The tips just kissed his skin, but that allowed all the force to be transferred to small area of his flesh. This was a painful blow. He arched, tugging at his binding.

Too many blows with the tips would abrade his skin like a cheese grater. She let another swing fly, this time delivering a horizontal stroke, zeroed in on his left cheek. On the return swing, she let the tails fly over her back to strike her. This helped her to gauge her blows. She wanted to take her time with this man.

Then he delivered thirty good strokes, alternating on each of his ever-reddening cheeks. She allowed a greater length of leather to strike his skin. This distributed the force of her blows. She knew he was anticipating each strike, and this helped him to endure and prepare. The red marks begun by the crop were now spreading into a large pattern. If she kept this up too long, his deep tissues would bruise. This would be too much, even for such an eager beginner. She stopped and st5ood beside her subject, checking his restraints and admiring her handiwork. The restrains were not yet digging into his flesh. A peek bet5ween his legs revealed his contracted scrotum. His penis was hard.
"Good boy", she said softly. "You did not come." She placed her hand against his ass. He jumped.

"No", she ordered. "Keep still, my victim. If you struggle, it just hurts more. And you don't want to make me angry."
She lovingly ran her hands across his backside. The radiating heat penetrated her latex gloves.
Then Claire said firmly "Enough with this lesson - get on your knees and entertain me!"
Steve jumped off the coach. He obediently knelt, facing Claire. But his hands stay6ed at his side.
"Your cock". Claire stood pointing.
Steve looked down at his bobbing penis, then back at Claire.
She almost slapped his face, but instead said, "Masturbate for me. Now!"
Claire sat back on the couch. "Rest back on your legs, and spread them wider" she ordered.
After he complied, he started.
"Slow down! You are going too fast," she commented.
"And don't even think of coming!"
Then Claire flipped over, straddling Steven's lap, facing him. Her body pressed his hard penis flat against his stomach. The buckles of her corset dug into his skin. His head was buried between her covered breasts. This was too much pleasure for him; she grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head away. She rocked her hips, thrusting hard onto him. She knew her extra weight was agony to his backside. It surprised her that he came this soon. She felt his penis pumping between them like a detached entity. His eyes closed; he was panting. When it was over, he gazed up at her.
"I'm sad because it's over," he said softly