I think it’s time we tested our new canes, don’t you?
I nodded, nonetheless, in my eagerness. Mister had spent the previous day or two sanding down the two rods we have purchased from the DIY store, removing any little snags in the wood, polishing its surface to a smooth, buffed appearances. He had then stained each one with ‘Peruvian Mahogany Wood Dye’ (he asked me to specifically add this detail) to bring out the patternation in the grain. Two rods of dowel, just about a metre in length, one about 5mm in diameter, the other about 9mm.
One to warm me up.
A second to break me down.
I slipped upstairs and decided to choose a scarlet-hued set of underwear to foreshadow the similarly tinged blushes I wished Mister to bring to my cheeks. The infamous Knickers of Impossibility beckoned and after a few minutes in assembling them I pitter-pattered my way back down to my waiting Mister with a few implements of my choosing to lay out for him. He had moved the furniture around by then to place the leather armchair by the kitchen door with the intention of using the door cuffs jammed just above the handle allowing me to kneel up on the chair. I handed him the cuffs and watched him carefully put them in place, testing their reach and amount of give.
Satisfied, he turned to me and grinned that wolf’s grin as he saw me standing sheepishly before him in my underwear. To shake myself out of inhibition I gave him a twirl and flashed him a coy wiggle in the backless, frontless, crotchless wonder that are the Knickers of Impossibility. With a deep breath he took my hand and led me to the chair, placed my wrists in the soft material of the velcro cuffs, smoothed down my hair from the crown to the tips and kissed me with his warm lips. I felt myself let loose a murmur and began to drift.
In facing the door, kneeling on the chair, I heard the rustling of his clothes being removed. Looking back over my shoulder, he had picked up the first of the implements, the large black flogger with its soft material tails. It reminds me of a pony’s mane that has recently been plaited and unfurled. Very soft, no sting to it but requiring a hefty backswing for it to have a thuddy impact. A perfect choice to warm us both up. He used it primarily on my shoulder blades this evening, its swing gusting my hair out of the way with the first few strokes. My body swayed in enjoyment, a little jiggle for each lick of the tails. Once every seven or eight swipes Mister paused to smooth my skin or to claw my back eliciting a hiss and a moan. His hand trailed across my hip, following the curve of my buttocks and slipping under to hold my pussy just for a second making me catch my breath in anticipation. I was growing slicker by the second.
Leaning forward for another kiss, a small nip to my lips with his teeth making me squeak, that roguish glint was in his expression. He went to the side of the room where the cane was patiently lying in wait. It was the thicker of the two, the thinner one I recalled was upstairs from a previous try-out. Recalling the small bruises incurred from the first time we tried the cane on New Year’s Eve, I steeled myself for the bite it would deliver.
The deep moans that the soft flogger drew from me were now to be replaced by yelps.
Writhing wiggles were now transformed into jolts away from him.
Mister’s own performance shifted too. Instead of the dramatic overswing of the flogger, the sheer length of the cane required only the smallest flick of his wrist to inflict a sharp staccato welt across my cheeks. A point of fact he was very happy with. Little effort for a big return.
I began to twist and turn with each sting, it was difficult in my kneeling position to curl away from him. When one snapping at my skin bit into me too much, I broke down, slipped to the side of the armchair and curled my leg up into myself. Yet I found myself drawing my body back up again, resuming the kneeling position. Stubbornly wanting, craving more. I knew he was enjoying watching me do this, helping me as each effort to haul myself up again became more arduous as I sank further down into the submission, my body seemed to feel heavier as I fell into it. I badly wanted to reach around and soothe my skin, placate it, be delicate but with my wrists bound I of course couldn’t. I was at my limit and requested him to stop.
He released my hands and after I had felt the raised welts on my heated skin he turned me around to sit facing him on the chair with my hands back in the cuffs. Time for him to kneel before me as he parted my legs and reacquainted himself with his softer, gentler manners, kissing his way up the inside of my thighs, hooking my legs over his shoulders as he began to lick at my very wet lips. Having been so aroused already from the flogging and the cane, he needed only to lap at my clitoris before the rush of orgasm swept over me, making me take hold of the restraints above the cuffs as I came.
Eyeing him with hunger, his cock glistening with precum, I too wanted to have my fill.
Let me loose on you. I want to taste you.
He never needs to make me ask twice. Finally free to set my hands on him, I moved off from the chair to the floor with one hand on Mister’s thigh as he stood above me whilst my other snaked around to claw his buttock and press the small of his back intimating him to move slightly closer to me. With his cock in front of me, I now grinned and licked my way from the base of his shaft to his head, catching the drops of precum. The hand on his thigh moved round to grasp his shaft, with the little finger occasionally stroking his balls as I set to my delightful activity of lightly teasing Mister with licks and butterfly kisses over his frenulum and his tip, then placing my lips over his cock. After all our playing, it wasn’t long before my attentions had him come with a convulsion of his own, his hand shooting out to my shoulder to steady himself.
So now we have two canes, lazily standing ready. One upstairs, one down. Whenever the mood next takes us. I think soon it will be my turn to practise my aim.