Later that afternoon Aaron chatted with Harvey while he grilled chicken breasts on our patio grille and I put together a salad to accompany them. When the chicken was cooked Harvey told me to eat first and then I would serve the men. So I set two places on our dining-room table, wearing only my chain and my Louboutin heels, and then I ate quickly in the kitchen.
The men seated themselves, Aaron at the head of the table and Harvey next to him, and they took turns touching me on my breasts, my legs, my ass, and my pussy as I served them and then stood between them, waiting to provide any additional service they might require. The light caresses were turning me on; it was both embarrassing and exciting to be standing there, submissively naked in front of my husband and another man, and being caressed by both of them without regard for my thoughts or feelings.
By the time they finished eating I was mentally aroused and my pussy was damp from all their touching, and when I had cleared the table we went and stood in the living room.
“Needless to say, I couldn’t bring my St. Andrew’s Cross with me,” Harvey stated, “so I’m going to have to improvise. But I think what I have in mind will work.”
He’d positioned both of his duffels and his case in the hallway near the other guest bathroom, and I watched as he prepared for the evening’s scene. The first thing he did was take out two lengths of rope. He opened the bathroom door about halfway and then tied the end of one of the ropes to the inside handle and then the end of the other rope to the door’s center hinge. Then he threw the other ends of the ropes over the top of the door, pulled the door mostly closed, and placed two old-fashioned rubber door-stops, one on either side, so the door wouldn’t move.
Next he took out two leather cuffs with an arrangement of chains on each of them and also a handle between the chains. He connected the chains from each cuff together and to the two ropes, and then he motioned for me to stand facing the door. I stood with my feet spread about eighteen inches apart for good balance. He gestured for me to raise my arms, and when I did he buckled a cuff on each of my wrists.
“Bend your knees,” he ordered, “and let your arms take your weight.”
I obeyed, and the ropes stretched a bit but otherwise held me up. “These are called suspension cuffs,” he explained, “and you can grab the handles if you wish. But they are designed so you can hang from them without damaging your wrists. I wanted you to see,” he said to me, “that you can’t fall down and hurt yourself.”
I smiled inside at his words, because I figured they were at least partly meant to reassure Aaron and I knew he intended to hurt me himself. But I also knew he was serious about safety, and that this was a demonstration of how careful he was being with me.“Thank you, Sir, I feel much more secure knowing that,” I said sincerely.
He turned to Aaron, who was leaning against the wall across the hall from the bathroom door I was now attached to. “She’s explained to you about safewords, right?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“The universal safewords are yellow to slow down and red to stop. Some people have different safewords; one popular alternative is mercy instead of yellow. But we’ll stay with the standard ones for tonight.”
He picked up the deerskin flogger that he’d used on me yesterday, again pushed my hair off my back and around my neck, and gave me several light strokes across my back. Then he shifted to my ass, and then to the backs of my thighs. He repeated that pattern and then he flipped the flogger up between my legs. The tails bumped lightly against my asshole and my perineum and then they slapped softly against my vagina.
“Oh, nice,” I murmured. The touch was gentle against my moistening lower lips.
Harvey continued the sensual flogging, rhythmically switching through all four areas of contact. I was totally relaxed, and I closed my eyes, stopped thinking, and just drifted away in a dreamy fog of pleasant sensations. I hardly noticed when he switched to a heavier flogger, but after a couple of cycles he stopped flogging me and after another few seconds he touched my breasts. He’d been bringing me very slowly to a greater degree of erotic arousal, but I knew my pussy was moist with my secretions and my nipples were stiffly erect.
When he lightly pinched and then tugged on them I opened my eyes and looked down to see that he was holding a pair of unusual-looking clamps in his other hand. Their upper parts looked typical of those I’d seen in adult stores, squeezable clamps with set-screws to control how tightly they pinched and rubber protectors over what I was sure were sharp, jagged teeth. What was different about them was that the bottom of each one looked like a life-saver, a flat, donut-shaped metallic disk.
He put a clamp on each of my nipples, setting the control screws so each clamp was just barely tight enough to stay on. Then he resumed flogging me, and the clamps swayed as my body responded to the swats that were slightly harder than they’d been before. But after only two cycles he stopped again; I felt the clamps tighten a bit and then I heard two click sounds and the clamps felt a little heavier. I looked down again and saw that he had added another donut-shaped metal ring to the bottom of each clamp; the clamps were obviously magnetic and he had added weight to them.
The flogging got more intense, and the flogger’s tails started to sting my pussy lips and my clit when he periodically sent it between my legs. He tightened the clamps and added more weight to them repeatedly as he proceeded, but he also started running his fingers through my wet pussy lips and bumping them against my clit during each cycle, and my body was slowly but steadily climbing.
He changed floggers again, this time pulling out a matching pair with brightly chromed handles and dark-blue tails. After he started flogging me again I glanced back and saw both of his arms moving like spinning pinwheels, and his perfectly-timed criss-cross movements were laying a rhythmic pattern of strikes on my back and my ass. I’d read about Florentine flogging, but of course I’d never experienced it, and the smoothly alternating strokes on my skin were a delightful change. It was a virtuoso performance, and the clamps were bouncing as my body reacted to the impacts of the floggers.
“Turn around,” he ordered, and because of the way he’d connected everything I was able to do so without having to be released from the cuffs. He reached up and opened the clamp on my right breast, and I gasped as the blood rushed back into my nipple. He bent and put his lips around it and used his tongue to soothe away the hurt, and I felt more of my juices gush from my pussy. He removed the other clamp the same way, and again I felt a strong surge of sexual pleasure from his gentle kiss on my swollen bud.
But that part of my pleasure was short-lived. He pulled some little spring-loaded clips from his pocket and methodically put them on my pussy lips.
“Ouch, those hurt,” I complained, and he looked at me with a serious expression.
“Would you like one on your clit, too?” he asked sardonically.
I was pretty sure this word-play was for Aaron’s benefit and he was just doing more of the head game with me. At that point I would have welcomed whatever he wanted to do even if it really hurt, but I decided to play along instead.
“Please, no, Sir,” I pleaded. “I know you can do it if you really want to, but can I … persuade you … somehow … not to put one there?”
“I love how you beg,” he said, and then I was certain he was playing with me. “What am I offered?”
I licked my lips lasciviously and he laughed. “I can have that whenever I want, you’ll have to do better.”
I knew what would really tempt him. “You could … give me a facial.” He knew from our chats that I hated that idea; ever since I started giving blow jobs as a teenager I’ve wanted the guy to come in my mouth. It was a lot less messy and I loved the taste.
“Now there’s a possibility,” he said thoughtfully. Then he gave me a wink. “Promise?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said. I knew I could probably talk him out of it later, and with everything he was doing to help me if he really did want to paint my face with his semen I’d gladly let him.
“Okay, no clit clip. Turn back around and face the door again.”
When I’d complied he took yet another flogger from his duffel. This one looked like it was really going to sting; the fall was made of thin plastic laces. And it did; I cried out on the first hit on my ass, and it just got more and more painful even though he was fingering my pussy with every stroke. But then I felt a hot flush run through my entire body; my endorphins had kicked in full speed and I bathed in the glow that turned the sharp pain into fantastic pleasure. I’d felt a similar rush when Aaron had given me what was for him a particularly good Saturday-night scene, but I’d never experienced such an intense high.
Harvey knew what had happened, because he dropped the flogger, grabbed my long blonde hair, and savagely turned my head so I faced him. Then he roughly smashed his lips onto mine and forced his tongue into my mouth while at the same time sliding those fingers in and out of my dripping pussy and rubbing hard with his thumb on my burning clit.
Oh, God, oh, yes, oh, fuck! I screamed in my mind as my body convulsed in a huge release. My knees collapsed and I hung on to the cuff handles for dear life as a massive orgasm rushed through me. I pushed my tongue against his and he jabbed mine back, and I loved that he was dominating me in that way also. Then he pulled his mouth away and I gasped for air, and then I started chanting, over and over, “God … yes … so good … God … yes … so good …” as that shuddering climax continued to sear my mind and my body with an overwhelming pleasure that I’d never felt before.
When my pleasure had finally abated and I’d caught my breath he let go of my hair and I pressed my lips to his cheek. "Thank you, Sir, that was wonderful,” I whispered. Then I glanced across the hall, and the look on Aaron’s face was one of awe and amazement. When he realized I was looking at him he gave me a sheepish grin, one that said volumes about how he now finally understood what I wanted.
Harvey took a riding crop out of his long case. It’s black and blue, just like my ass is going to be, how appropriate, I thought.
He started by just tapping the crop around in different spots on my back, keeping my flesh warm and tingly. He moved to the backs of my thighs, starting near my knees and gradually hitting higher until he was just a bit below my crotch. Then he went back down, but this time hitting the insides of my thighs. He was just reddening the skin, but the strikes were starting to really sting and I knew he was going to hit me even harder before he was done.
The strokes became harder and harder as he hit me on the ass, starting high up near the top of my crack and alternating cheeks as he went methodically lower. I cried out as the pain level increased, and I could feel little welts rising as he reached my sweet spots, the creases where my ass cheeks met the tops of my thighs. But he’d begun fingering me again when he started working on my ass; my endorphins were still flowing, and the pain and pleasure combination had my body climbing.
He played with my clit with one hand while he slid the rod of the crop across my perineum, tilting it up and down so it rubbed first between my wet pussy lips and then against my anal pucker. I was close to the edge and I started to quiver in anticipation, but then he withdrew the crop.
“Not yet, Ann,” he whispered, “turn around again.”
Oh, shit, I thought, he’s going to use that thing on my front too. But I obeyed without protest, and he slowly tapped the crop lightly all around my breasts. Then it landed on each nipple; they were erect and sensitive, but the hits were just hard enough to sting and I felt my pussy pulse each time he struck one of them. He slapped my belly with the crop a couple of times and then he hit the fronts of my thighs, and I tensed up as I realized where he was going to go next. I heard little squishing sounds as the crop landed on my wet pussy lips, but these hits were light and erotic, not hard and painful, and I shuddered when he tapped the crop on my clit. He had me very close now, and I was more than ready for another release.
“Face the door again,” he commanded, and after I did he set down the crop and picked up a rattan cane.
“Please, no, Sir, not that,” I begged. I’d never been caned, and even though I was loving the pain and pleasure combination he was giving me I was afraid of how much it would hurt.
He didn’t respond verbally to my plea; he just fingered my dripping pussy until I was really on the edge, so close I knew I was moments away from coming. But then he rested the rod of the cane across my red and sore ass and I tensed up again, squeezing the cuff handles in a death grip.
“When I hit you, you may come,” he said, and I wondered whether I’d be able to release after the amount of pain I was expecting to feel. But then he simultaneously rubbed my clit and crashed the cane into my ass. I screamed and then my endorphins crested and I flew into a mighty orgasm, soaring into heavenly bliss. When I calmed down, slowed my breathing, and got my wits back about me Harvey was holding me against his body, supporting me with an arm around my waist and kissing me on the side of my neck.
“Jesus, that was incredible,” I said hoarsely. “I’ll never forget that cane stroke as long as I live.”
“So long as you don’t forget the end result,” he said teasingly.
“That came with your help,” I replied with a double meaning. “You gave me the pleasure along with the pain, and that was just perfect.”
“Have you had enough, Ann?” he asked quietly.
I looked over at Aaron. I could usually read him pretty well, but right then I had no idea what he was thinking. Then I looked down and saw the bulge in the front of his pants.
I don’t believe it, I thought incredulously. My husband got that turned on watching another man beat the crap out of me and make me come. This is just fucking amazing.
Then I looked at Harvey, and I saw nothing but caring in his steady brown eyes. I knew what I wanted, what I’d asked him to do. I also knew this might be the only chance I’d ever get to experience it, and I had no qualms about my answer.
“No Sir, I haven’t,” I whispered. “Please don’t stop now, Sir, please push me harder, give me everything you’ve got.”
He nodded once, accepting my plea.
- - - - -
Harvey offered me a drink of water, and I greedily accepted. Then he again reached into his duffel and this time he brought out several single-tailed whips. Oh, God, I thought. He sent me a picture of one of those whips one time and I told him I would love for him to tear me up with it. But we were just fantasizing then, and I never imagined it would actually happen to me.
“Those look really wicked,” Aaron said anxiously. “I’m a little worried that she’s going to be alright.”
Harvey didn’t let any kind of annoyance show on his face and he turned to my husband. Then he took a couple of steps and put his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “She’ll be okay, Aaron. I’ve used these lots of times, and I’ll show you and teach you how to be careful with them. I know what I’m doing,” he said with a serene confidence. “She wants this, I know she does, and she’ll be totally fine.”
He came back towards me and picked up one of the whips; it was solid black in color and looked to be about four feet long. “These are called signal whips because their original purpose was for drivers to signal directions to their sled dogs,” he explained. “They're made just like kids make braided lanyards at summer camp, except instead of plastic the whip braids are made from leather strips. The best whips are made starting with at least sixteen strips of kangaroo leather at the handle end, and they have a cloth bag inside that end that's filled with BB shot to give better balance and control. The business end, the cracker,” he lifted it up so we both could see the filaments up close, “is a set of nylon threads that are knotted every inch or so until what's left is loose strands about an inch long. The sound you hear is a mini sonic-boom when the cracker breaks the sound barrier.”
Aaron nodded his understanding and Harvey continued. “Ideally, the cracker is what actually contacts the target; the body of the whip can be much more damaging to the skin. So it's important,” he said, looking at me, “that you move your body sideways so the distance from me to you stays constant; if you move your body toward me that will change what part of the whip hits you.”
“I appreciate that guidance, Sir,” I said thankfully.
I was still positioned with my chest against the door. My body quivered with anticipation; I was more than ready for this. I'd already been brought to multiple climaxes, but I was still very wet and I wanted more. He cracked the whip once to my left and again to my right, and it sounded like two gunshots. Then I heard the soft popping sounds he’d described in our chats, and that told me he was swinging the whip from side to side close to me. After a few seconds I felt the first touch, a very light skimming across the center of my upper back. Then it swung in the opposite direction, and this time I felt the sliding of the cracker more strongly. My skin tingled, and as the whip continued its back-and-forth motion the hits started to lightly sting. But it was a pleasant sensation, and I started to feel warmth along each of the places where the cracker had slid across my skin.
He stopped the whipping and came up next to me. He turned my face to him and kissed me, and I responded eagerly, my tongue dancing with his. He reached out with one hand to caress my breasts and tweak my erect nipples, and I squirmed and shivered when he sent his other hand to slide the leather knob at the end of the whip handle through my dripping-wet slit. I moaned against his mouth and kissed him harder. After perhaps thirty seconds, he broke the kiss.
“So how do you like it?”
“I love it; may I have more, please?”
He smiled. “Absolutely. I've barely started with you.”
He backed away and started the whip moving again, this time alternating between my upper back and my butt. The whip strikes were so consistent in their timing that the effect was almost hypnotic; the idea of being whipped like this was working on my head as well as my body and I was more and more turned on even as the stinging and warmth steadily increased in intensity. He stopped several more times to come close to me, kiss me on the neck, and touch my stiff nipples. Even though he hadn't gone anywhere near my pussy with his fingers I was very wet and ready. My tummy quavered with the first stirring of orgasm. When he stopped again and came to me I was very close to release; I was panting and I was sure that if he touched my clit I would go over the edge.
“You're ready to come.” It wasn't a question.
“Oh, yes, Sir, I'm really close again.”
“Soon, Ann, very soon. But I want you to have the full experience. So I'm going to turn you around. I want you to see it coming at you.”
Oh, God, I thought frantically. He's going to whip my most sensitive parts.
I wasn't really afraid; I knew Harvey wouldn't harm me. But the thought still sent shivers up and down my spine as he put his hands on my waist and turned me to face him. I leaned back against the door and tried to relax.
He turned the chain on my body so the loose end with its weight rested in my ass crack, and then he swung the whip slowly, finding the range. It slid across my tummy, leaving a trail of burning sensation in its wake. But my endorphins were running high and the pain turned instantly to pleasure that pushed me even closer to the edge.
“More,” I begged, “please, give me more.”
Harvey didn't answer in words; he simply raised the angle of the whip and a searing fire ran across the undersides of my breasts.
“Owww,” I cried. “So good, so good.”
The whip came again, a constant back-and-forth flow, and I watched it with a combination of wonder and excitement. Then the cracker slid across in a direct hit on my stiff and sensitive nipples and I came, a small one, a precursor to what I knew would be a massive explosion. My body shook and I cried out in ecstasy as the metronomic swinging of the whip brought it again across my breasts.
He came forward and hugged me as I shivered in the aftermath of that mini-orgasm. “Are you okay, Ann?” he asked quietly.
“I'm much more than okay, Sir,” I whispered back. “Please … please … please don't stop now.”
Again he didn't answer in words; he simply squeezed me in his hug and then returned to his place a few feet away. When he started looking for the range again the whip was moving lower. Then I felt a line of fire across my thighs about halfway between my knees and my groin, and I let out a sound that was between a groan and a sigh of pleasure.
His accuracy with the whip was fantastic; he put a double line across my legs an inch higher each time the whip made a two-way pass, first in one direction and then back in the other. As it rose higher and higher, I knew where it would end and I shivered in anticipation. When it slid across my bare pubes I cried out wordlessly, and then it hit directly on my clit and I exploded. I’d had amazingly strong orgasms in my life, but this was above and beyond. I screamed and I climaxed like never before, a totally mind-blowing release of all the sexual tension that had been building up in me despite my previous orgasms. I couldn't control my body; I shivered and shook and went completely limp, and only the cuffs around my wrists kept me from collapsing to the floor.
He approached me again and slid his finger through my sopping-wet slit. “Do you want more?” I nodded my head emphatically. “Okay,” he said, “let's see how many orgasms your body has in it.”
Harvey stroked my pussy lips and then put first one, then two, and finally three fingers inside me, stretching my opening and pressing his thumb against my extremely sensitive clit. My hips bucked involuntarily, and then I let out a loud moan when he leaned down and put his mouth on my breast. He sucked on my hard nipple, then flicked his tongue back and forth across it. It felt like my pussy was being attacked and I was rapidly climbing toward another powerful orgasm. Then he removed one finger from my pussy and placed it at my rear entrance. His finger was well lubricated with my flowing juices, and he pressed it slowly but firmly until it slid past my sphincter and up into my back channel.