Technique

bySaucyminx©

Author's note: Warning! Danger! No actual sex in this story. It's all smoke and mirrors, but fun nonetheless. Thanks! SM

I stopped to pick up a few things after work; my sweetie had lost her bet and I was feeling "experimental". Since I was now attached, I spent a lot less time at the Come Here Kitty Adult Book & Toy Shop than I did before. I was in the lube section, (tonight was finally going to be the night I was going to get some of that virgin ass), when the jingle of the bell over the door made me look up. You know how it is in those places, no matter how clean and well run, eye contact is at a premium. It makes sense, who wants to be browsing the latest books on whip technique and look over to see their grandma checking to see if her new 2 inch wide dildo will fit in her mouth? It just makes sense. Then again maybe your grandma doesn't frequent these places—mine is just unique, but I digress.

The bell jingled and in She walked. Silence fell at the old Come Here Kitty broken only by the moaning of the girl getting her tits fucked on the plasma screen tv in the back. She was a tight little package, with long brown hair and ice blue eyes. She couldn't have been over 5'4" and was nice and curvy. She had long legs for such a little thing, and the spiked black boots, and short black skirt made them even longer. The rest of her dress was all business—nice white blouse all buttoned up tight. She looked like she could have walked off Wall Street and had every man there licking those kinky boots--nothing like the taste of leather at work.

She marched right up to the counter—no shrinking violet this one, and asked where the whips were kept. I could see Laurie, (one of the 3 lesbians who owned the place), licking her lips as she pointed a slightly shaking finger toward the back corner of the store. Turning with an almost military snap, Little Ms. Boots strode off among the merchandise. I sauntered over to the counter and leaned my elbow on the glass. "Right there with you my dear," I said.

Laurie turned to me and grinned. "Damn Luke. That looked good enough to eat," she said, absently toying with the nipple ring under her shirt. "What do you think? Your type or mine?," she asked.

"Well, let's each go grab one of her tits and see which one gets slapped," I suggested. We laughed and chatted until the object of our conversation came back up to the counter, carrying a shiny black riding crop. Ooh, she really was my kind of girl.

"Do you know how to use this?," she asked Laurie.

Laurie looked about ready to faint. I was just hoping I got to watch. "Um, I have a general idea."

"I need to know what it feels like before I buy it." (What a careful shopper.) "Do you have anyone here who can show me the proper technique for this?"

Laurie looked pained. She glanced at me. I knew what was coming and grinned. "Luke, here knows his way around a riding crop and pretty much the rest of the leather in this place. You could say he's one of our special consultants."

The ice blue eyes raked me head to toe, and finally came to rest on my face. I toned down the grin a notch. She considered me silently, sucking in her bottom lip. (Internal groan, I wanted a taste of that lip.) Finally, she nodded once.

"This is strictly business. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No problem here," I said, and tried to look strictly business.

She turned again to Laurie. "I need to disrobe. Is there a back room where we can have some privacy?"

"Yeah, straight back and to the left of the whips," Laurie said. "It's marked Private. Just go on in and make yourself at home."

The blue eyes flicked back to me. "I'll be back presently," I said. "Then we can start your lesson."

Boots wheeled around and headed back. Laurie and I looked at each other and managed to keep straight faces until the door slammed. "You so fucking owe me. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy fucking Groundhog Day. You owe me big," Laurie hissed. "And you better get that smile off your face before you go back there. This is a gift my friend. Don't fuck up my sale."

"Never!" I said trying to supress my smile. Truth was, you probably couldn't have pried it off my face with a crowbar. I wanted to jump up and down and do the happy dance. I was going to whip that beautiful heart shaped ass. I started toward the back room.

Laurie's "hey" called me back. "Someone custom ordered a whipping post and then stiffed us on it. It's just sitting back there in that room. If you can use it to seal the deal—it's yours."

I fairly skipped to the back room, took a moment to compose myself, and knocked on the door. After a terse "come in" I entered and locked the door behind me. I took a quick inventory of the room; large beige couch, whipping post in the center of the room, and Ms. Boots, sitting in the beige arm chair across from the door. Her clothes were folded neatly on the edge of the couch. She flowed from the chair and came to stand in front of me, wearing only black thong panties and her boots. She stuck out her hand and introduced herself, "Delia."

I took the proffered hand—nice grip—"Luke." I mentally quashed my burgeoning hard-on. Think old nuns, dead kittens, (oops—no pussy), dead puppies then; much better. Now, if I could only stop staring at her tits. "So Delia, though I'm happy to do it, why do you want a demo?"

"I'm just starting to share my dominant side with my girlfriend. We've been taking it slow and reading a lot. But we're ready to take it to the next level. I just want to know how to use this the correct way—so she doesn't get hurt, and I want to know exactly what she it going to feel. It sounds kind of silly..."

"No not silly at all—very responsible. Let's get started, shall we?" (Quickly, before I totally lose it thinking of this foxy chick beating her totally hot sub girlfriend with this riding crop, and ask her if she wants to "shake hands with Mr. Happy.")

We started with basics. I showed her how to hold it. No, not that, the riding crop. We discussed warming her girlfriend up first, safe words, and all that jazz. Finally, just when I was beginning to feel like a taller, hairier, slightly more masculine version of Dr. Ruth, we got to the hands on part. I stepped over to the whipping post.

"Alright Delia, are you ready?"

She looked a little apprehensive, but stepped over to me. I took her slender wrists and snapped them into the fur-lined restraints dangling from the top of the post. (Now, all I needed was a ball gag, some lube, and...oh, wait that was my fantasy.)

I gave her a tap across one butt cheek, nothing major, just a little warm up to gauge her reactions. She started a bit, but didn't object. Her skin was so pale that she marked immediately. I was going to enjoy this so much. I landed a few more teasers on her back and thighs before I got down to business. I tried to keep up a running commentary to keep her at ease, and slow my heavy breathing, but let's face it; I had a hard-on that could cut diamonds.

She wasn't unaffected either. She had started to moan low in her throat, and her hips thrust forward with every stroke. It was one of the hottest things I ever saw. When she was striped from top to bottom, I stopped, mentally shook myself, and went over to release her. She was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Damp tendrils of hair were plastered to her face. I unlocked the cuffs and she swayed against me. With an arm around her waist, I helped her over to the couch, silently cursing myself for not copping a feel of those magnificent tits. It sucks to be a gentleman.

"Are you ok?" I asked, meaning: "would you please suck my dick now so my head doesn't explode?"

She gave me a slightly dazed smile. "Um, yeah. Thank you. Do I owe you anything?"

Blow job, blow job, blow job. "No, really it was my pleasure." What?!? I was lightheaded from all the blood being in my dick and not my brain; that had to be the explanation. "I'll leave you to get dressed." Again, translation: I'll be in the bathroom beating off so hard I'll have blisters. I limped out of the room and into the men's room.

When I came out, I sauntered up to the counter. Laurie had a huge grin—"well, your type or mine? And I hope you washed your hands."

"Yours and I didn't," I said.

"How was it?"

"Unbefuckinglievable. My girlfriend will not be able to walk tomorrow. Guaranteed. So, did she buy?"

"Yep—crop, restraints, strap-on, the whole nine yards. You must have inspired her, my type or not."

"Cool, you owe me a whipping post I believe."

"All yours Luke. Is your girlfriend into that?"

"Not yet." I smiled. My girlfriend had lost a bet and was my slave for the evening. I was getting that ass—but this would be fun too.

Laurie grinned back. I went out and pulled the truck around front to load my prize. Maybe I'd get my sweetie a pair of black leather boots.

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