Birthday Postscript

My birthday has come and gone, leaving in its wake some very pleasurable memories of a wild party, some livid red welts on my chest, and, of course, the photograph album, which I have already returned to several times, even though less than 24 hours have passed.

Tonight we are on our own again and we have decided on a candlelit dinner in the garden, which is mosquito free since we engaged the company to come and spray once a month. As they promised, the spraying seems to have no impact on other, useful insects, such as bees and butterflies. The table sits on the stone terrace next to the swimming pool beneath the cedar arbor presently covered in a mass of climbing hydrangea.

All the preparation work for dinner has been done after a late afternoon swim in the pool, accompanied by a leisurely gin and tonic. The ceramic table brought back from our trip to Positano is dressed up with stiff white placemats and napkins, sparkling crystal Waterford and several chunky white candles in their glass jars. The champagne is on ice, and a bottle of 2010 Leuwin Art Series shiraz is uncorked and decanted. In the kitchen, the food, Italian themed tonight, is finished the first stage of preparation. The oysters (for Peter) are resting on a bed of ice, and the duck liver mousse is staying cool in the fridge. The ingredients for the caprese salad are ready to be quickly put together, heirloom tomatoes fresh from the garden. The casserole is simmering gently in the oven, and the fresh peaches for desert are ready to be peeled and sliced.

Now it is time for the pre-dinner entertainment. In our bedroom, I help you get dressed, although there's not much to dress tonight, just your black and silver leather waist cincher and the black, studded high heeled pumps. You look quite magnificent as you head off to put on some lipstick and eye shadow. As you are occupied in that task, I put on my black and red leather body harness, fasten the devilish studded chrome ring about the base of my cock, grab my studded leather collar and my leather hood and head outside.

By the time you arrive I have opened the champagne and poured us each a glass. We raise our glasses to each other, "To us.". We share a very passionate kiss. I think that we are both still very stoked up from my birthday party. Then, on your look, I place the black leather hood on my head, fasten the ties and then give you the collar to lock around my neck.

Only a few very intimate friends have ever realized that the O rings screwed into the front of the cedar arbor are positioned in such a way that they can be used to restrain a very submissive anonymous leather slave. Tonight the leather cuffs are attached to each ring, and you now take pleasure, as always, in securing the cuffs around my spread-eagled arms and legs so that I am totally exposed for whatever you want to do with me. Next, you reach upwards and pull the noose dangling from the crosspiece of the arbor down around my neck, drawing it tight and then pulling it firmly so that I am drawn up on the balls of my feet, before you fasten it off on the wooden frame.

You stand back and look at your accomplishment, a dark gleam in your eye. I know that having me in this helpless position always excites you. I am yours to do anything you want with now. I know that you are looking at the red welts and the brown and blue bruises that are starting to appear from yesterday's whipping. "Ready for round two?" you ask. This is another part of my birthday present; a severe whipping a day for the entire week.

Tonight, it's the nipple clamps first, followed by another passionate kiss through the hood and a couple of firm slaps across my face. Then the whipping starts, quite gently at first, but hard enough to tug angrily on the nipple clamps, as I start the count to two hundred. Today you have chosen to start with a leather flogger with its multiple strands, and I feel the weight of it with each stroke.

By the time I have counted to one hundred, the whipping is hard enough that the nipple clamps have been tugged off. Now you take a break to run your hands over my chest, raking your nails along my flash as you do so. You come up very close to me and stare into my face before giving me six hard slaps with the palm of your hand.

"Your chest looks deliciously painful, but there's much more to come today, much more". With that that you start whipping me again, but now you have picked up the single tailed braided whip, it's effect not as heavy as the flogger, but each slash burns into the flesh. I can see you from behind the hood as you get into a steady rhythm of strokes. There are no breaks in the whipping at all as we pass the count of a hundred and fifty. Your expression looks beautifully merciless as you ratchet up the speed of the lashes, swinging from side to side into my body. At this stage I am in a trance-like state where the lashes simply merge into one delicious continuum of pain as the count passes a hundred and ninety.

My chest is completely on fire once again, as my count reaches "two hundred Mistress." Sometimes you simply ignore my count an carry on, but today you step back, but not before one last kiss and one last slash of the whip across each side of my face. You take a moment to have a hard look at the new damage you have inflicted on me. I feel your fingers tracing the red welts across my chest.

If you could see my face I would probably look pretty drained at this moment. You look pretty sweaty yourself from all the effort you have put into the whipping.

"At this rate, you are going to be very heavily marked by the end of the week," you tell me, "I hope that you are prepared to carry the marks of this week for quite some time into the future. But you do understand that I will not be showing you any mercy?"

"Yes Mistress," I mumble from behind the hood.

Now you undo the cuffs, and my arms fall limply to my side. I turn my back to you and you slip the noose back over my head, unlock the collar and loosen the laces on my head.

"Time for a quick swim before dinner?"

"Absolutely."

We strip off the remainder of our outfits and hurl ourselves into the pool. The cool water feels soothing on my tortured flesh.

We come together in a tight embrace.

"Love you."

"Love you too, that was amazing as always."

"Did I hurt you enough?"

"Oh yes, no need to worry about that."

"We don't forget that there is much more to come over the next five days. I wonder what your torso will look like a week from now. Gorgeously abused, I suspect. My tomorrow I'll pay my respects to your back and your bum. Make it hard for you to sit down for the rest of the week."

Out of the pool, you slip into a beautiful blue stripe cotton shirt dress that I bought you for your birthday, while I slip on a white cotton shirt and khaki shorts. We paddle back barefoot into the kitchen to pick up the oysters, the pate and some crackers.

Outside again, I share the remains of the champagne between us as we sit enjoying our nibbles and marveling at the last remaining dregs of sunset in the western sky.

Once we have finished the champagne, we head back inside and put together the caprese salad.

Outside again, I pour us each a glass of the shiraz as we start digging into the salad.

"I don't know what it is, but being whipped always leaves me feeling hungry,"

I say.

"Me too," you nod in agreement. "The tomatoes are delicious."

'Mmmmm, scrummy."

We sit in companionable silence for a minute or two before you hearken back to the previous day, to my birthday gift. "So which part of the album do you like the most?"

"I like it all. It's amazing."

"Yes, but I bet that there are a couple of series that excite you the most."

"Well, as I went back through it today, I have to admit that I lingered over the schoolroom scene."

"Really? Why that one?"

"I haven't really thought about it, but I guess maybe because it was just so unexpected. I never thought about you doing something like that. Did you enjoy doing it."

"Well, I was surprised as well when I saw those kids waiting for me. Honestly for the first few minutes I did not realize what was about to happen. That they were all going to make me their plaything."

"But once it started?"

"Well yes, it was very erotic. As I told you yesterday, those kids were very advanced for their age. They knew exactly what to do to arouse me. I really did get carried away by it all."

"Would you do it again?"

"I haven't really thought about that. It would be hard to recapture the spontaneity of what happened there. And I am not really into people of that age, although another session with one or two of those young, well endowed men might not be unpleasant."

"So that's one series that stands out. Is there another?"

"Well, the one image that's burned into my mind, that I keep flashing back to, is the scene with Sandrine where you are sat back on the couch, she is straddling you, and you are fucking her with the black dildo. That was pretty awesome. You both looked magnificent."

"I wondered if that would be one of your favourites. As you know, women are not really my thing, but with Sandrine it felt different. I really enjoyed our session together."

"And that hasn't been the only time I'd guess?"

"No, we've had a couple of sessions on our own since then. This casserole is yummy isn't it? We should do it again."

"Yes, it's great, delicious. So what's different about Sandrine?"

"Sandrine is just a human sex machine, she'll go any time, anywhere. She's a great kisser, and can she ever use her magic tongue to good effect. And there's something about her body, even apart from her breasts. As you can see, she's quite tall, and she's sculptured. In a funny kind of way it's like making love with a black man, but without the cock and with big boobs. She excites me more and differently from any other woman I've met."

By now, we are sitting in front of empty plates, and it is time for me to head back inside for the casserole as you sit back looking radiant in the soft light of the late sunset.

Main course is delivered to the table and as we sit savouring the casserole, now it's my turn to ask a question that's been stuck in my mind since yesterday, "Tell me about Timmy. It's been a while since you let another white guy fuck you."

"I like to think that I fucked him," you smile at me, "he really couldn't do much about it, could he? Timmy is a very nice young man, very attractive. He's got a great body and a cock that could belong on any of my black lovers. He felt very good in me, and I certainly had a great time torturing him.."

"Would you like to see him again?"

"Actually, I have already given that some thought. I don't want to see him on my own, but I would like to invite him here for a weekend. I am sure that he would come."

"Sounds like you have already had some interesting thoughts about that."

"Oh, I have. Very definitely. I think it would be nice for me to have you both here as my slaves for the weekend serving all my needs. Of course there would be some delicious whippings, and I'd really like to see how high Timmy's pain threshold is, and how he would respond to some serious breath play. But what really excites me is seeing the two of you together."

"The two of us?"

"Yes. He's certainly bisexual, maybe even a preference for gay sex. I have this image running through my mind of the two of you in your leather harnesses and hoods sitting next to each other on our leather couch. I want to sit back and play with myself as I watch the two of you masturbate each other, and then suck each other's cocks until you cream in each other's mouth. Then I want to share a big kiss with you both."

"That could be a lot of fun."

"Oh yes, I get very excited at that thought. But what gets me really excited is that at some point in the weekend, each of you would take turns to fuck me, and as you are doing that, the other would be ass fucking you. Imagine that. Your cock fucking me, and Timmy's cock fucking you. Usually we're talking about me trying something new, now it's your turn for once. "

"Actually, I think I would like to try that. I mean you have used a black dildo on me in the past, why not the real thing?"

"He's big," you observe, "we would have to prepare you for the experience."

"That could be fun as well."

I look at the plates, which have been empty for some time. "Time for dessert?" I ask.

You smile at me, "No, after all this discussion about sex, it's time for me to fuck you, I think. We're going over to the pool lounger over there and you are going to eat me for pre-pre-desert, and then I'm going to fuck you for pre-dessert."

"Sounds like fun."

We move over to the lounger and exchange a deep kiss during which your dress shirt comes off and my shorts get dropped. You fall back on the lounger and I kneel between your spread thighs and start to pleasure you with my tongue and fingers. You taste so good.

Conversation is very limited for the next ten or fifteen minutes except for an occasional "Ooh that feels so good" from you, and finally a loud satisfied gasp as you reach a third delightful orgasm.

After a moment or two, we trade places, me on my back on the lounger, you kneeling on the cushion, taking my cock into your mouth. With the cock ring providing assistance, it doesn't take you long to bring me to a painful, turgid erection at which point you climb on top of me, straddling me with your legs, and impale yourself on my cock.

For me it feels deliciously painful as you thrust up and down on top of me. For you, well it does not take long until you are having your fourth orgasm of the night, and then your fifth. I caress your breasts and play with your nipple rings, which only serves to arouse you further. You know just how to pace yourself so that I am kept on the edge of my own orgasm, until finally I can't hold out any longer.

"I'm about to cum, Mistress," I gasp. Now, you pull yourself off me and watch as I take hold of my cock and masturbate myself to a shuddering orgasm, making sure that my cum lands in the palm and fingers of my other hand. When I have squeezed out the last few drops, you watch as I put my hand to my lips and suck and lick off the strands of cum. Only when that's done, do you climb back on the top of me and give me another lingering, passionate cum shared kiss.

We fall back for a few minutes to regain our composure before deciding that now it's time for fresh peaches and cream accompanied by a glass of sweet Muscat.

We bring our bowls of ripe peaches covered in a sheen of cream back out to the table and slowly consume the sweet peaches, washing them down with an occasional swig of wine.

"About Paul," I say.

"Yes".

"You really like him don't you? Do you want to go on seeing him?"

"Yes, I think that I'd like to get together with him periodically."

"More photographs?"

"Maybe. Would you like that? you reply archly.

"Of course. Now that you know you like being photographed why stop?"

"And Sandrine?"

"What about Sandrine?"

"Are she and Paul an item? I don't really understand their relationship."

"I don't think they are in a permanent relationship if that's what you mean, but they are lovers and they do have sex together, lots of it I think."

Our conversation lags as we share the softness of the night, the beauty of the Milky Way and the intermittent sparkles of the fireflies. We sit for a while longer, wrapped in a satiated sexual reverie, holding hands, caressing each other's fingers and exchanging murmurs of sweet nothings until we both mutually decide that it's late and time to throw ourselves into bed together.