My bit came next, and Liv tilted my head back and bent down to give me a passionate kiss before pushing the metal bar between my teeth. It would be a while before I would be allowed to kiss her again.
Once she’d secured the bit and tightened the band behind my head, she was ready to strap me into my harness. As the leather brushed against my skin, I felt my pussy dampen; I could only imagine how wet it would be by the time the harness was strapped tightly to my body. Liv dragged the leather straps up and down my back, letting me feel how soft they were, and then she laid the harness on me and started to fit it to my body, connecting buckles and bands. A thick set of straps rested on either side of my neck while another set sat on my shoulders, with all four connecting to a thick waistband in front and in back. There was a pair of straps that wrapped around my hips, too, and they connected to the waistband as well. That waistband was the best part, though! It cinched under my belly like a real saddle strap, and it left my ass and pussy uncovered so I could still wear my tail and play with other toys. Once Liv attached the plumed headdress and tightened the final strap under my chin, I really felt like a proper pony.
“Giddy up!” Liv joked, striking me with a leather riding crop and urging me to crawl on all fours across the floor. The harder she smacked my ass, the faster I was supposed to move, and from the pace she was setting, it was clear she wanted me to gallop at full speed. It’s not easy to move so quickly when you’re on your knees, and especially when you’re extremely aroused, but I tried to speed up at her request, and I was soon traveling as fast as I could go into the living room. I knew I’d have rug burns on my hands and knees later, but the excitement it gave me to have my trainer whipping me and to be in my full pony dress was worth it. Liv made me do a couple laps around the room, like a show pony, and I held my head high as I marched. I made three loops, all with my girlfriend keeping the pace with her crop, and then she led me to the center of the room and had me rear up on my hind legs so she could check my form.
Liv examined my “hooves” and ran her hands along my body, checking my “coat,” and I shivered with arousal. She murmured her approval and then said, “See, I knew you’d be a pretty pony.” I couldn’t talk, so I snorted my pleasure with her statement. “I think my pony’s earned herself a treat,” she continued, “for being such a good little horsey.” That sounded good, and I wondered where in her barely there fringed outfit she’d managed to stash my reward.
As soon as she’d removed my bit, I began nuzzling Liv’s hip, the band of her panties, her boots. I even tried to reach up to sniff her bra; I wanted to find my treat. Maybe it was a sugar cube! “What an impatient pony,” she said with a laugh. “You have no idea where to find your treat, do you?” Once again, I snorted in response. She always plays games like that, and I always get frustrated. Human or pony, when you’re promised a reward, you want it right away. I kept sniffing and circling Liv, until she finally gave in and told me she would show me where my prize was. Then she pulled down her panties, pointed to her wet pussy, and said, “If pony wants something sweet, there it is.”
I walked closer, still on all fours like a proper pony, and then reared up to nuzzle her pussy. She smelled sweet, like nectar, and I could see drops of her sugar glistening on her lips. My own pussy was dripping wet from all the trotting and wearing the pony attire, and I wanted to come as badly as I wanted to make Liv come. Liv’s orgasm was my top priority, though, as any good pony knows you have to please your owner, and after one more tentative sniff of the treat being offered, I dove enthusiastically into her pussy.
My tongue darted over every inch of her cunt, from the juncture where her thighs met to the top of her faintly hairy mound and over every bit of delectable flesh in between. Each drop of honey was scooped up by my tongue, and I drank it all down greedily, thrilled with my reward. It was clear that Liv was thrilled as well; when I looked up I could see the fringe on her bra shaking as her body bucked. When I saw that, I started to tease her clitoris, working it between my lips like it really was a sugar cube. I sucked it and swirled my tongue in circles around it; I did everything a pony is capable of doing. Finally Liv climaxed, and a steady stream of juice ran into my open mouth, the sweetness of it more enjoyable than any cube of sugar would have been.
At last, it was my turn. As soon as Liv gave the go-ahead, I leaned down with my chest pressed against the floor, my ass up in the air, and my fingers between my legs. I played with myself, letting my digits go deep into my soaked pussy and dance over my engorged clit, not stopping for even a second. My breathing picked up, my heart raced, and I felt my pussy clenching my fingers as my ass did the same to the butt plug holding my tail in place. When I was ready, I wiggled my butt so quickly that I felt my cheeks jiggle. That was the signal, and Liv began to pull out my tail. As the plug inched out of my grasping ass, I felt myself falling, and then, as the final inch popped out, I exploded.
After we’d cleaned up and put away all our pony toys and crawled into bed, Liv turned to me and said, “I think tomorrow we should dust off your saddle.” I smiled and curled up next to her. I fell asleep in seconds, visions of all our pony possibilities dancing through my head.
—Ms. Jasmine R., Austin, Texas
Sensual Spankings Are Doled Out at a Kinky Christmas Party
My boyfriend, Rudy, is always trying to push the envelope. He’s often successful, getting me to perform more and more outrageous acts. I love it because I get off on following his orders. It works out for both of us, since he’s a natural dominant and is more creative than I am when it comes to kink. I happily submit to any and all of his demands, because he understands my sexual cravings almost better than I do. So when he suggested we turn our annual holiday soiree into a kinky Christmas party, I was more than game. “What do we need?” I asked, getting excited by the prospect.
“Well, I’m thinking lots of mistletoe, only whoever winds up under it doesn’t have to kiss anyone. They have to get spanked,” he said. “But you’ll be the fill-in sub, in case that person is a top. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Caitlin?”
“Yes,” I said, getting turned on by the prospect of submitting to all of our guests, even though that was unlikely. We knew lots of people who enjoyed getting paddled and whipped. However, imagining being a slave for the night to a room full of people had my pussy dripping in no time.
“You should wear a special outfit. How about green glitter on your nipples and those red panties with the heart cutout on the ass?” he asked, grabbing me and squeezing my butt. I knew his idea wasn’t a suggestion but an order. “Oh, and a collar. I’ll attach a leash and lead you around all night. I’ll tell everyone to come dressed in their finest kinky attire. And along with refreshments, we can put out paddles and clamps and condoms.”
“So basically we’re hosting a holiday play party?”
“Trust me, it’ll be the party of the season, and those who miss it will be kicking themselves.”
I grinned at him, knowing that it was sure to be an evening I’d never forget.
The day of the party, I pranced around the house in only a bra and panties, finding myself full of excitement. While I didn’t lust after all our friends, there were definitely a few people I wouldn’t mind bending over for! “I wonder what Denise and Kyle will wear,” I wondered out loud. They were our most straitlaced friends who’d said they would attend. We’d never seen them perform a kinky act in their lives, but we knew they were curious about the lifestyle.
“You never know,” Rudy said. “But I’m more interested in what they’ll do!”
Our first guests were Steve and Alice, longtime friends from the scene. He was wearing a studded black collar and a tight latex bodysuit, while she was clad in a purple latex bra, a shiny black latex skirt, and five-inch heels.
“You’re the first to arrive!” I said, greeting them warmly.
“Do we get a prize?” Alice asked. I scanned the kitchen for something that might work, settling upon our dog’s water bowl, whic
h was in the dish drain.
“Let’s serve Steve some Champagne,” I suggested, grabbing the bowl and setting it on the floor. “If he spills a drop, he’ll be punished. What do you think?” I made sure to address the question to Alice, since she was the one in charge.
“I think Steve had better get on the floor,” she said, smiling at me. We got so engrossed in Steve’s naughty test that I let Rudy greet the next few guests. Watching Steve get totally into slurping up the bubbly liquid was hot in a way I wouldn’t have expected. I could tell that he was trying hard to obey, and even though I wasn’t formally co-topping him, I felt like I was a part of their scene. They had arrived a little early, so I hadn’t gotten a chance to change into my glitter and panty outfit, but my black lingerie was still sexy and appropriate. Alice rested her hand on my hip as we watched her partner, and her fingers touching my bare skin made it tingle—and I started to wonder what it would feel like to submit to Alice.
Steve was doing a pretty good job, but then Alice upped the ante. She rested her foot, complete with her outrageous heel, directly on his back, which made him tremble. He obviously liked it, but it made him nervous. He’d been taking steady laps of the bubbly, but then he gasped and splashed some Champagne on the floor. Maybe Steve wanted to be punished. I’m not sure, but as Alice ran her heel along his back, he got sloppier and sloppier. I looked up and saw a small crowd of friends had formed around us. No one wanted to miss a second of the action!
I was proud that we’d kick-started the party with such grand entertainment. When Steve was “done,” Alice pulled him up by the collar and pinched his cheek. “Is that how you thank your hosts? By spilling Champagne all over the floor? You’re going to lap that up, too!” she said, slapping him lightly on the cheek. The red that blossomed on his skin wasn’t from her hand, but from embarrassment and arousal.
Steve knelt on the floor and slurped up the liquid from the tiles. As I stood, transfixed, watching Steve do Alice’s bidding, I could hear the sound of someone else getting a spanking. When I poked my head around to see who was playing, I got a little thrill when I saw that it was my man who was doing the honors. Rudy had a petite woman spread across his lap. Her red high heels were kicking in the air and her bottle-blonde hair was hanging down as he swatted her behind.
Since I’d been in her position countless times, I knew from the look on his face and the color of her bottom that he wasn’t taking it easy on her. They, too, had a crowd formed around them, and I recognized the looks of longing on many of our guests’ faces. Quite a few of them looked as if they’d love to have their asses paddled by Rudy. Why wouldn’t they? Although he’s strict and stern, he knows exactly how to spank someone to bring them the most exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.
I’d expected our little gathering to start off slow and get progressively naughtier, but we’d managed to kick things off with a bang. I heard excited whispers all around me, and soon there were multiple spankings going on. Men and women I’d never have expected to join in the kinky fun were doing it up alongside dedicated perverts. I wandered around, making sure all of our guests were happy, and suddenly I felt a hand on my hip. I turned to see Alice. “Well, Caitlin, you sure know how to throw a party,” she purred. “Steve’s enjoying some corner time after his spanking. Since I’m free for a while, I thought I’d warm that cute ass of yours. It looks much too pale.”
I’d never been spanked by a woman, but suddenly that was what I craved—especially since that woman was going to be Alice. “Yes, please,” I said quietly, feeling arousal wash over me.
Alice led me to a chair that was in full view of Rudy, who was still busy with his blonde lady friend. He would spank, while I got spanked. She could tell that I was nervous, but she put me at ease by saying, “You’re beautiful. I’ve told Steve plenty of times that I’d love to take you over my knee.” She stroked my hair, then my shoulders and my back, then between my legs. My panties were wet, and Alice knew it.
Once she sat and draped me over her lap, she warmed me up slowly with soft, sensual slaps of her hand, occasionally stopping to lightly scratch her nails along the bottom of my ass cheeks, which made me shiver.
At one point, I looked over and saw that Rudy had a different girl across his lap. We smiled at each other, sharing a moment of recognition. I hadn’t expected the party to go like this, but the biggest lesson I’ve learned as a submissive is that you have to expect—and enjoy—the unexpected.
Alice spanked me thoroughly, and when my ass was tingling and hot, she slipped her hand into my panties. I sighed when her fingers danced along my wet slit. She rubbed her fingers against my clit roughly, and I squirmed on her lap as she made me climax in seconds.
I was breathless in her lap as she whispered, “Any time you need a woman’s touch, just give me a call. I’m happy to lend a hand—or a paddle,” she added with a chuckle.
Finally, I stood. For the rest of the party, I was merely a voyeur, happily observing spontaneous bondage demonstrations and plenty of spankings. It was a very successful party, and I have a feeling we aren’t going to wait until next Christmas to throw another one!
—Ms. Caitlin W., Boulder, Colorado
Vintage Shoes Cast a Spell on One Horny Pair
When Al handed me the shoes, my pussy immediately got wet. It’s that bad for me—my shoe fetish, that is. I don’t go head over heels for one particular shoe. I worship shoes in general. Shoes are a turn-on for me; it just happens that some are more than others. My attraction can very much be the luck of the draw, but Al nailed it. The vintage cherry-red Maryjanes were enough to nearly get me off merely by looking at them.
“I found the shoes downtown,” Al said. “I’ll take you out tonight. Wear them.”
I had a tingle in my tummy—and lower. I was ready to go out now, not tonight, just looking at the luxurious footwear and knowing what I’d wear to accentuate their style.
He kissed me on the forehead and looked at his watch. “Gotta go, babe. I’ll see you at six for dinner. Be pretty for me,” he said and reached around to squeeze my ass through my boring work dress.
I would not be in a boring work frock that night. I’d be in a gorgeous ensemble built around the sensual footwear he’d just given me. Excitement sparkled under my skin.
The day seemed to drag as I tried to focus on work and not the evening ahead. When five o’clock finally rolled around, I practically bolted out the door to get home. I took my time getting ready, setting my hair and spritzing on perfume, making myself as pretty as I could.
When Al got home at six, I was ready and he whistled lowly, winking at me. I laughed, feeling gorgeous and flirty and beyond turned on. The Maryjanes were just tall enough to make my calves look taut and shapely. My legs looked longer, my ass tilted higher, and I felt perkier. I wore nude-colored fishnets with my brand-new shoes and a short ivory empire-waist dress. No panties.
“Very nice,” Al said in a breathy voice, and he slid a brazen hand beneath my dress. Forcing a thick finger through the mesh of my hose, he sank a finger into my blazing-wet heat. “Very nice.”
I let my eyes drift shut and relished a small shiver of lust. “Hurry. Let’s go out,” I said.
So he took me. Gripping me with a firm but gentle hand at my elbow, he helped me into the car and off we went to the downtown block that was barely more than a long promenade of romantic restaurants filled with young couples.
We walked along the avenue trying to figure out where we wanted to eat. Truth be told, eating was the last thing on my mind. I was more aware of the breeze on my nearly bare legs and the cool gusts of air that danced beneath my dress to tease my exposed pussy. I concentrated on the feel of my feet in those decadent old-school Maryjanes and the way my leg muscles were tight. I felt long and sexy and so, so wet.
“Have you decided?”
I toed a crack in the sidewalk, admiring my foot and my shoe. How thin my ankle looked from this angle. The fishnets seemed to grow up and out of the lip of my shoe. A
l spread his hand along the small of my back, his fingers subtly reaching low enough that he was touching the curve of my bottom. I shivered at his touch.
“I can’t.”
“Do you know what you want?”
I extended my leg and flexed my foot. People rushed by us, but no one was paying attention. He reached down and smoothed his fingers over my shoe as if brushing off debris. The sight of him touching that shoe—on my foot, in this outfit, on this night—made my pussy wetter.
“I can’t think,” I admitted.
Each scenario, each encounter, grew out of the shoes I was wearing. And these in particular made me feel very sexy and retro. There was a sensuality to them. I was a flapper with curls in her hair and flirty fringe. A bad girl in the guise of a good girl.
Al straightened, pushing his mouth against my hair, so his voice snaked right into my ear. “Do you need it, sweetheart?”
I nodded, another warm rush of my own juices sliding along the very tops of my thighs. The fishnet mesh between my legs was soaked.
“Where would a girl who wears those cherry shoes want to go and find… relief?”
Al knows me so well. He knows how to stoke me and how to tease me and in the end get me off, so that I’m ready to do it all over again. My eyes darted around, and I found the sliver of a narrow alleyway between two Italian eateries. I pointed, and he tugged me along, pulling me like some pretty waif in a foreign flick. That was how I felt in my new shoes, like a girl in an art-house movie: pretty and sultry and coveted.
He hustled me down the cobblestone alley and pushed me into a rich shadow. There, I succumbed to my urges, pressing my forearms to rough bricks that were still warm from the day’s sunlight. His hands were already running up the back of my legs, snagging my hose as he went, but that was irrelevant. He held my waist, grinding his hard cock into my ass, as I looked at the stones beneath my feet and my shoes—so pristine against the dirty ground.
Letters to Penthouse XXXXV Page 17
