tagBDSMMy Time in The Saddle

My Time in The Saddle

byJs_Keeper©

Author's Note: If you enjoy the story, please take an extra few seconds leave a comment or a vote. As always, thanks for reading.

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My heart raced at the sound of His approaching footsteps as they resonated down the hardwood hallway to our bedroom. I waited as instructed, naked and kneeling on the floor in my usual greeting position: forehead to the floor, with hands clasped behind my head, fingers interlocking. Most importantly, I faced away from the bedroom door with my rear raised high in the air, because my Master always said that my best feature should be the first thing to greet Him.

This was a particularly special greeting, so I wanted it to be just as He wished. The six days that my Husband and Master had spent out of the country had left me longing desperately to see Him again, to smell Him and taste Him, and to enjoy His loving domination. I had been growing as His submissive for more than six months, and had come to crave the way absolute surrender to Him deeply touched my soul. Master had made it clear that His homecoming night would be another significant step in our D/s relationship.

I was careful to quickly lift my elbows off the floor as soon as I heard His hand on the doorknob. An elbow infraction would certainly add to the punishment I already had in store for masturbating twice without permission while Master was away. Only another submissive could understand why I had admitted this to Him on the phone the night before. Deceit has no place in the life of the submissive – it destroys the trust in the relationship, and no D/s relationship survives the breakdown of trust.

So, I waited all day for my punishment with a certain nervous excitement. I knew that whatever discipline He delivered would be just and appropriate and would only serve to strengthen my submission to Him, a goal which I sought after with persistent determination. I longed for nothing more than to surrender my entire being to Him and to be able to say with all sincerity, "There is nothing that I would not do for my Master."

His scent filled the room immediately upon His entering, and a rush of relief overtook me. I felt suddenly at home again, as if I had been the one away. He stood behind me in silence as I waited for His greeting. Smack! Smack! One swat of His open palm fell upon each of my upturned cheeks. I knew this greeting well and had craved it all week. Though He often spanked me with a variety toys, both for pleasure and for punishment, only the intimacy of His bare hand would do for our traditional greeting. I had come to read His greetings as well as any wife can read a welcome home kiss. Today's blows were dealt in deepest love, carefully measured to leave the faint red impression of His fine hand upon my flesh; impressions that I was honored to bear. I was pleased not to sense anger in His greeting, for although I was due punishment, I needed first to feel His love, and my gentle Master was ever mindful of my needs.

He walked slowly and silently around me several times as I continued kneeling in position, waiting patiently for the signal to assume my next position. No signal came. His footsteps stopped and I felt a cool piece of soft cloth, almost certainly silk, slide between my face and the floor. Master firmly secured the cloth over my eyes and tied it snugly behind my head. No!! I screamed inside my head. Not the blindfold. I've been dying to see you, please, Sir!! My heart sank at the realization that this was part of my punishment. Master's discipline was always delivered with the greatest skill and care, as evidenced by how He cut me so deeply without laying another hand on me.

Then came my signal. Master wrapped His strong hand around the base of my long ponytail and abruptly tugged upwards. I rose up, with Master's assistance, until I was sitting on my heels, my back straight and my small, pert breasts jutting out proudly. With my fingers still clasped behind my head, Master pulled my head back by my hair until my face pointed up toward His. I felt the warmth of His face approaching mine, and I waited eagerly for a kiss that never came. He was teasing me. Not only was He denying me the sight of Him, He was also denying me the customary kiss that always followed my being raised to a seated position. This hurt me more than the blindfold, and He knew it. By His silence, He also denied me the pleasure of His sweet and commanding voice. I ached from so much deprivation.

Master released my hair and continued circling me slowly. I waited anxiously for His voice. Even words of disapproval or anger would be better for me than the silence to which I was being subjected. I felt His eyes drink in my nakedness from all directions and took some comfort in the admiration I knew He felt for my body. It was, after all, His possession, and I worked hard at making it something for Him to treasure.

I continued waiting in what we commonly called "second position." Normally a kiss signaled His permission for my movement to the more restful "third position," in which I would tilt my head back upright and place my hands, palms up, on my slightly spread thighs. It was only once in this position that I would be allowed to speak. The three-step sequential greeting ritual had been our scene-opening convention for some months now, and this departure from it was a rare exception that left me with intense uneasiness.

I felt Master's hand on my hair again, and He tilted my head upright again. I assumed it was His intention that I move to third position without the kiss, but as soon as I started to move my hands to my lap, He grabbed them and twisted them around behind me, where He fastened them tightly into a double wrist cuff that held my wrists together in an "X" at my lower back. Immediately I heard the familiar jangling sound of the chain that held Master's favorite nipple clamps, which He skillfully applied to my nipples, as sensations of both pleasure and pain to begin coursing through my body.

I was thoroughly enjoying His attention, so my heart sank when I heard Him walk away and back down the hallway. I knew through experience that He was giving my senses a chance to fully absorb the items He had so far applied to my body, allowing me to rise to a more submissive mindset in preparation for what was to come. In compliance with Master's unspoken wishes, I stilled my body and began to focus my mind fully on the implements of submission with which I had been adorned, to thereby push from my mind the selfish attitude that so consumed me at our initial greeting.

I started with the blindfold and consciously yielded my eyesight to Him. In my mind I followed the path of the silky material as it made its way from each of my eyes, around the side of my head and finally forming the knot in back. I shook my head slightly from side to side, allowing the dangling ends to lightly brush my shoulders, sending a slight chill down my arms. I thought of how the loss of sight meant that Master would have to guide my every movement and how completely under His control that placed me. I thought of how my trust in Him had grown since beginning down the path of D/s.

My next point of focus was the wrist cuffs, which Master had crafted with His own hands. I appreciated the care He'd given to each detail, lining the leather with felt to make it smooth to my skin, even upon extended wearing. He cleverly designed in Velcro attachment straps that allowed the cuffs to be applied and removed quickly, but from which I was completely unable to escape on my own. I thought of how lucky I was to have a Master who was so good with His hands – at more than just leather craft too. I smiled at the thought.

Finally my thoughts shifted to the nipple clamps. I recalled how Master had often commented that my nipples were made for clamping, and how I never really understood what He meant by that. Master never caused me to feel badly about my B cup breasts, commenting frequently on their beauty. He always made sure that I displayed them proudly for Him by having me sit up straight, with my chest thrust forward when in His presence. I was no pain slut, and although our D/s relationship had been limited in the amount pain play we employed, these clamps were a common part of our repertoire. I had come to enjoy wearing them as much as Master enjoyed seeing me in them. He not only loved how they looked on me, but He enjoyed their versatility as an implement either of pleasure or discipline. Today's clamping was adjusted precisely in between the two, which was an unrecognized signal to me of what was to come.

Master returned just as I completed my mental rounds, and I was once again amazed at His impeccable timing. I was still kneeling with my wrists bound behind me, but in my dreamy contemplation, I had allowed my shoulders to become slightly hunched forward. So, before Master could correct my posture, I quickly straightened my spine and pushed my clamped breasts out fully, as I knew He would desire. I hoped to elicit a response from Him, noting the obedience of my posture or otherwise expressing His approval of my appearance, but instead He walked right past me and entered the large walk-in closet at the far end of our bedroom, our toy closet. I strained my ears in an attempt to decode the sounds, eager for a clue about my pending punishment.

The only clue I gained was from the sound of Master wrestling "The Saddle" from the back of the closet. At once my pussy flooded with expectancy and my heart pounded with fear. It had been a month since Master had completed this, His latest creation, but He insisted that the right opportunity hadn't yet presented itself for my initiation to The Saddle. I supposed that my punishment provided that opportunity.

The first time Master showed me The Saddle, I was impressed with His creativity and craftsmanship, but more than a little intimidated by the sight of the thing. It consisted of a wooden base, approximately 24 inches wide and 36 inches long, covered in carpeting. Upon the base rested the platform, or "seat" over which the occupant was to kneel. The top of the platform was rounded over, roughly in the shape of a traditional saddle (hence the name), and covered in smooth black leather. There were two strategically placed openings at the apex of the platform, which Master explained could optionally be fitted with a variety of "probes," and a small leather "horn" in front, obviously intended for clitoral stimulation. On either side of the seat were foam pads, intended for the knees of the occupant. There were a number of cleats and rings to provide a multitude of bondage options for the "rider." A short cable extended from the platform a control box containing an array of knobs and switches, which Master did not bother to explain to me in detail.

It was a marvel to behold, and I pouted for days for Master to let me try it out, until He finally assured me that begging would only delay my initiation to The Saddle. So I let it go, though I did climb to the back of our closet several times to peek at the device, imagining as best I could what it would be like to finally ride it.

The luxurious smell of new leather permeated my senses when Master placed The Saddle on the floor near where I knelt, and the anticipation grew almost unbearable. I could barely contain my excitement as my pussy muscles began spontaneously contracting, eagerly seeking to be filled by The Saddle's probes. Master, on the other hand, was in no hurry – there were lessons to be taught first. I suppose inside I knew that Master's discipline always included a discussion of the infraction, but my body was aching for immediate stimulation.

"Crawl to me, my horny little cum-craving wife," came Master's first words to me. His tone was playful yet insistent.

"Yes, Master," I answered and began awkwardly shuffling on my knees toward the sound of His voice. "Where are you, Sir? Talk to me Master, and I will come to you."

"I am here," He said repeatedly.

Blindfolded and hands bound behind me, I had only my knees and head to feel my way to my Master. Each time He beckoned me I would adjust my path in the direction of His voice. It was a humiliating and frustrating five minutes I spent making my way to Him. I was convinced, though He assured me otherwise, that He was constantly moving around. In my search, I bumped into a wall, a door and a nightstand, before finally brushing my head against His knee where He sat in the loveseat of the sitting room adjacent to our bedroom. I scooted in between His feet and lay my head upon His knee. I felt I was in heaven to be at the feet of my Master after so many days apart. He reached down and softly stroked my hair for several minutes before finally speaking. His tone was formal, as a teacher would use to instruct a pupil.

"It is the voice of your Master that leads you, my dream." I always loved it when He called me by the sub name He had given me: dream. In giving me that name He said that I was His submissive dream come true. He continued. "When you follow as directed, you find what you seek. When you go your own way, you simply wander about aimlessly. When I give you instructions and guidelines it is for a purpose – for the purpose of growing and exploring your submission. You want to grow in your submission to Me, don't you?"

I nodded my head against Master's knee, forgetting the rule that requires me to always answer Him out loud during a scene. He reminded me by tugging on my ponytail until I remembered and answered appropriately. "Yes, Master."

"Here we have a good example, dream. You know why I require you to answer me out loud, don't you?"

"Because truth becomes truer when given voice," I answered, recalling the many times Master had thus corrected my behavior in this manner.

"And do you know why I prohibited you from masturbating during my absence this week?"

I thought for a moment about how Master usually gave me specific instructions to masturbate (where, when, what toys, number of orgasms, etc.) with the goal of drawing out my sensuality and sexuality. I wondered about this change in direction, but it's meaning was lost on me. So I simply pleaded, "Teach me, Sir"

"You know how you rarely masturbated before we began this journey together – how you were chained to your antiquated taboos. Then I began to train you to listen to your body, to enjoy the way it was created for pleasure, to let yourself go and allow your sexuality to thrive. You have grown so much in this area. Haven't you been enjoying this new freedom of self-pleasure?"

"Yes, Master," I blushed under my blindfold. Despite my increasing sexual freedom, talking about such things was still difficult for me.

"So why would I turn around and deny you the very thing I had taught you to enjoy so?" He asked.

"I don't know, Sir. I didn't really understand. I guess that's why I was so willing to go against Your instructions."

"Not once, but twice," Master pointed out.

"I'm sorry, Master," I answered. "I know I was a bad dream to go against Your wishes as I did. Twice."

"On the surface the purpose of My instruction was simply to test your obedience. And you see how you failed at that, I'm sure. But more than that, you were to experience and appreciate the way your body now responds when you don't grant it the pleasures you have now become accustomed to. Not so long ago it made no difference to you, but tell me how it felt after the first four days of denial, just before you disobeyed me for the first time."

"By the fourth day I was aching for release. I can't remember the last time I went four days without an orgasm, either from you or by myself. Then, when I read your email that night, where you painted such vivid and delightful pictures of your plans upon your return, it was like you lit a fuse inside me. It was only a matter of time before the explosion."

"Tell me about the explosions, dream," He said, "Tell me all the details."

"I sat at the computer reading your email in my short, green silk nightshirt. I felt myself getting wet by the time I read the second sentence - I was so stoked and had so much pent up sexual energy. By the time I finished your story my hand was involuntarily between my legs, spreading my lips and slipping my fingers inside. I must have read it three or four times – I lost count. I knew I was disobeying you, but I thought it was so unfair of you to send me such a stirring email and then not allow me to cum. I was completely out of control by that point, and I didn't care. By the end I had three fingers inside my pussy, bucking my hips as I plunged them in and out of me. My thumb was rubbing my clit as I teased myself toward the peak. My other hand was inside my nightshirt, pinching and tugging my nipples, just as the clamps in the story would have done. I came hard. I came really hard. I couldn't stop myself, Sir. I'm sorry."

"And the second disobedience?" Master inquired.

"It was the next morning. Your email scene was still playing clearly in my head. I woke up so incredibly horny and already wet. By that time I figured I had already violated your request, so I made no attempt to stop myself. I pulled my vibrator out of the nightstand and fucked myself silly. The cum wasn't as powerful as the night before, but it was still really good. I'm sorry I didn't respect your wishes."

"So what have you learned – beyond the obvious fact that you need to be more obedient?"

"You've turned me into a sex-crazed cum slut?" I asked, giggling, but only half-joking.

"I didn't turn you into anything. You have always been a sex-crazed cum slut, really." Master laughed with me. "All I did was help you discover the truth about yourself – that your body was made for pleasure. In fact it needs pleasure to be fulfilled."

"Yes, Master, and I'm feeling very needy right now – in need of some ful-FILL-ment." I sat up and smiled in Master's direction. If He could have seen my eyes, He would have seen how retelling my masturbation experiences had ignited a fire that burned white-hot inside me.

"And the other thing you must remember, my dream, is that ultimately your body belongs to me. When I give you an instruction concerning its use, that instruction is to be followed, regardless of your own selfish desires."

Master rose, lifted me to my feet with His strong arms, and pronounced, as He guided me across the room, "And now for a little something to remind you that next time I give you instructions they are to be followed." He suddenly stopped us our in his tracks and wrapped his strong arms around me from behind, tugging gently on the chain clamped so deliciously to my nipples. "And to remind you that your body is Mine, and therefore fully under My control."

"The Saddle, Sir?" I squawked giddily. He didn't answer, but I knew it to be so, regardless.

Master forced me to my knees, and I could hear Him fiddling with The Saddle. My mind began to race and my cunt muscles twitched with eager excitement. I couldn't wait to experience Master's incredible creation. When He had everything prepared, He freed me from the wrist cuffs and instructed me to assume the resting position to receive my instructions.

"This is your Saddle, dream. I crafted it precisely to fit your beautiful body, and with it I will take total possession of your body. I can use it to give as much pleasure as I wish. But much as the clamps that now hold tight to your nipples, I can also use it to drive you beyond the edge of pleasure into the realm of pain. Tonight you will ride that sweet edge."

"As you desire, Master," I replied sincerely. "My body is yours - take me wherever you want. I am ready to ride."

"Explore the saddle with your hands first. Understand what it offers you before you mount it."

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