Author’s note: This is a morning-after story. Except for the initial housekeeping and the morning-after activities at the end, this story accurately describes, from her perspective, a scene I did with my then-wife; I actually spent the morning after this scene pounding the keyboard to record my recollections before they faded.

I spent most of the Saturday after Thanksgiving doing domestic engineering. Robert’s housekeeper was away for the long Holiday weekend, visiting her children, so I prepared and served breakfast for the two of us and then started going through the house without bothering to shower. If any of the neighbors had lived close enough to peek in through the windows, they’d have seen me with my hair in a ponytail, wearing one of Robert’s old tee shirts, a thong bikini, four inch heels, and a dust-rag over my shoulder. I stripped and remade the bed, cleaned the master bath and the powder room, then started on the kitchen.

I kept Robert’s coffee cup topped off as he did paperwork in his study, and when I was done cleaning the kitchen I put together a tray of cold cuts and salad for lunch. By the time we finished eating it was after one, so I hustled to vacuum, dust, neaten, and otherwise spiff up the rest of the house. I was taking a break around four o’clock when Robert came out of his study and sat next to me on the living-room couch.

“Time to knock off for the day, Karen,” he said. “You’ve done plenty, and I have plans for us for the rest of the afternoon and this evening. Go get yourself cleaned up, and then put on that short robe and some play shoes.”

Oh, goody, I thought to myself, it’s going to be a fun evening. The robe he wanted me to wear was black silk, and its only fastening was a matching tie. Play shoes was a general category that encompassed my highest heels, but there were multiple possibilities. I wanted to wear exactly what he was envisioning in his mind’s eye, so I asked for further guidance.

“Would you prefer the pumps or the ankle-straps?” I asked. Those were the two pair he’d bought for me soon after I came to live with him, and they were definitely his favorites.

“The straps, I think,” he replied, and my heart sped up in eager anticipation. Those shoes had very slim five-and-a-half-inch heels, the highest I owned, and Robert had always been true to his word; when I’d worn them in the past, I had spent very little time standing up.

I took the time to do a thorough job of it. After I’d finished showering, shaving, washing my hair, and putting on my best face, I slipped into the robe, wrapped it around myself and tied the sash around my waist, and sat on the edge of the bed to fasten the ankle straps on my shoes. I stayed seated for about a minute, blanking my mind and letting myself sink completely into sub-space, then stood and walked slowly back into the living room, teetering on those outrageously high heels.

Robert was sitting on the couch reading a magazine when I approached him, and he set it aside as I knelt at his feet. He lit a cigarette, and we talked quietly as he smoked, just little things: what I had accomplished that day, what was planned for the next day, conversation that I knew was intended to set a quiet mood and ensure that I was ready for whatever would happen next.

Eventually Robert crushed out his cigarette, rose, and offered me his hand. I took it, and he helped me to my feet; then he led me back into the master bedroom and stood me facing the wall, still wearing the robe. He pressed his hand gently against my back just below my neck. I raised my arms, reaching to put my palms flat against the wall, and leaned forward slightly to put the weight of my upper body onto my hands.

After a few seconds, I felt the light touch of a quirt flicking against my upper back, just barely making contact. Robert walked it down my back, avoiding the area of my kidneys, then across my ass and down the backs of my thighs and calves before retracing the path back to my shoulders. My skin tingled, the warm afterglow of the shower mixing with the stimulation of the quirt to increase the blood flow close to my skin and gently awaken the nerves.

The flicking of the quirt stopped, and Robert slowly, sensuously, slid the robe off my shoulders. I pushed myself back to an upright position, lifting my arms from the wall and letting them drop to my sides, and that allowed the sleeves of the robe to slide down my arms and fall away from my body. I put my arms back up to the wall without any prompting; this time I crossed them at face level, each hand holding the opposite elbow, and then I leaned forward again, resting my cheek on my arm. I closed my eyes, waiting placidly for whatever Robert would do next.

Again I felt light, glancing blows to my upper back, but this time it was a flogger. It felt like Robert’s suede flogger; the suede has fairly wide tails, and it’s almost all thud and very little sting. I was pleased that he was warming me up slowly for whatever was going to come later, and I felt my body relax as the strokes continued to land. My shoulders slumped as the tension from the day’s housework drained away from me.

After gradually increasing the impact of his figure-eight motion, Robert switched to an overhand swing; the fall of the flogger died on my back and slid down to my waist before he pulled it back. I could feel my back getting warmer, and I knew it was changing color, turning pink over a rectangular area between my shoulder blades and about four inches above my waist.

Robert switched back to the quirt, almost without missing a beat, and again I felt the light, dancing touches, this time on my ass cheeks. The quirt started to sting and bite more intensely, but it was still quite light, a very pleasant stimulation. There was a momentary pause as he changed implements again; now he was working on my ass with a leather flogger that stings more than the suede. As the sensations became more and more pleasurable, I sank further and further into bottom-space. I lowered my arms slightly on the wall, pushing my behind out toward the incoming blows to increase their force.

I hadn’t been counting, but I’d guess Robert had given me forty or fifty solid strokes on my ass when they started to taper off in intensity. Then the blows ceased, and the next thing I felt was Robert’s hands reaching around from behind me to caress my breasts. My nipples had been hardening for a while as the soothing warmth of the flogging spread through my body, and my breathing quickened as he teased them to even greater stiffness. I lifted my head, and his kiss was tender but insistent as he continued to fondle my breasts, his tongue thrusting between my opened lips to meet mine.

Robert eventually broke off the kiss and slipped his arm down and around my waist. At his slight pressure, I turned away from the wall, and he guided me to stand next to the bed. I hadn’t noticed when we entered the room, but Robert had set out a full complement of leather cuffs: wrists, thighs, and ankles. He picked up one of the wrist cuffs, and I raised my arm so he could position and fasten it. He repeated the process with the other wrist, and I spread my legs farther apart when he reached for the thigh bands. Once those were on me, he picked up the ankle cuffs. I lifted my right foot and set it on the edge of the bed next to him, the toe of the shoe resting on the top of the bed and the long stiletto heel pressing into the side of the mattress to help me keep my balance. When the first ankle cuff was fastened, I lowered that foot and raised the other on his other side, and in less than two minutes the restraints were all in place.

“Lie on the bed face up, Karen, and put a pillow under your head if you wish,” Robert directed. I disdained the pillow, and he drew my hands down past my hips to fasten the wrist cuffs to the thigh bands. I had automatically spread my legs when I lay down, so he didn’t say anything more; he just attached the chains from the frame at the foot of the bed to my ankle cuffs and tightened them, ensuring that my legs would remain apart and flat on the bed.

Robert came back along the side of the bed, leaned over, and again kissed me tenderly. Then he told me to raise my head and he slipped a blindfold over my eyes. It was a very effective blindfold, leather with a thick sheepskin lining and a wide elastic band. Once it was in place, I could see nothing, so I closed my eyes and waited, fully at peace.

The next thing I felt was a light touch on the arch of my right foot, and for a few seconds I couldn’t figure out what was causing that particular sensation. Then, as it moved slowly up the side of my calf, I realized it was a fluffy, fur-like duster, probably much like the one I’d used on the furniture earlier in the day. The light touch, almost but not quite a tickle, moved up my thigh, across my belly, and down my left leg. When it reached my left foot, the touch disappeared, then reappeared in the palm of my left hand. It traced a path up my arm, across my upper chest, and down my other arm. The duster’s touch was both soothing and sensual, and I felt myself relax even more.

Then I felt another touch on my right foot, but it was a different kind of sensation, and again I was puzzled as to what Robert was using. As it continued to brush lightly against the skin of my leg, though, I realized it was a feather. It moved slowly up my leg, caressing the top and inside of my thigh in turn, then slid teasingly up and down the crease where the inside of my thigh meets my crotch. The feeling was incredibly arousing, and I tried to raise my hips to increase the contact, but the feather was quickly withdrawn and I sank back onto the bed. The feather then resumed its teasing on the other side of my pussy, causing my hips to buck up involuntarily, but it continued its deliciously frustrating journey down my left leg.

When the feather had finally reached my foot and been withdrawn from my skin, for about fifteen seconds I felt nothing. Then the duster returned, this time making slow circles around one of my breasts and then the other. Robert was avoiding my upthrust nipples, but I was becoming seriously turned on and I prayed silently that he would stimulate them. I somehow knew that I shouldn’t speak aloud, but he must have heard my silent pleas, because after several turns around each of my breasts the duster flowed lightly across my right nipple and I felt a definite tingle in my loins. After several seconds of delicious sensation on that nipple the duster moved to the other, and when it did I again felt that tingle.

The duster went away, and I felt Robert’s breath on my cheek. He kissed me lightly, then more forcefully, and I felt moisture starting to form inside my pussy. Then he ended the kiss, and again I felt nothing. The absence of sensation was frustrating; any kind of touch would have been welcome. Then I heard the sound of a match being struck, and after a couple of seconds I smelled cigarette smoke. That made me a little afraid; the first time Robert blindfolded me and then lit a cigarette, I’d thought, at the time, that he intended to burn me with it. Will he really do it this time? I wondered to myself, and that possibility, while not as terrifying as it had been the previous time, was still disconcerting.

I felt the feather again as Robert resumed teasing the junctures of my thighs with my groin, and when it moved from those spots, it went into my pussy slit. There it slid lightly but insistently upward, coming tantalizingly close to, but never quite touching, my clit, which by then was stiff and throbbing with my growing sexual desire. An involuntary groan escaped my lips each time it came close but stopped short, and then finally one time it didn’t stop short, and its flicking back and forth across my swollen clit sent waves of pleasurable sensation washing over me.

Suddenly I felt a spot of intense heat on my right breast, very close to the nipple, and I screamed, convinced that he’d pressed his cigarette against my skin. But I felt no pressure, and the heat faded quickly and was replaced by a second spot an inch from the first. Oh, Robert, you devil, I thought as a third spot of heat flashed on my other breast. That’s candle wax you’re dripping on me, but you really set me up well for it, because the last time you used ice at the critical moment.

The feather had continued to flick at my pussy, and a fourth spot of heat, more intense than the previous three, flared on my left nipple just as the tip of the feather stabbed hard into my clit. I let out a squeal as the sudden pain hit, but it changed rapidly to a moan of pleasure as my sexual tension ratcheted sharply upward.

No more wax fell, and the feather stopped stimulating me. Once again, for perhaps fifteen seconds, I was acutely aware of the absence of any touching sensations. Then the familiar scent of leather hit my nostrils, and a multitude of soft touches slid slowly from under my chin down between my breasts. It’s the little deerskin flogger, I thought as it swirled in a circular motion around and over my navel.

The duster returned to tease the insides of my thighs, and they quivered in response. Again my hips moved involuntarily upward, and as soon as they did there came a rapid-fire WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! as the little flogger crashed repeatedly into my breasts, alternating sides and creating a confusing, conflicting maze of sensations. The impacts on my breasts were balanced by the tingles I felt each time some of the flogger tails slid across my stiff nipples, and the duster was wreaking havoc on my hyper-sensitive pussy lips. I writhed in frustrated need as my arms and legs strained against the restraints that were holding me down.

The duster went away again, and the flogger traced a sensuous path down across my belly. This time, though, it didn’t stop there; it continued to move and I felt its multi-tailed touch slide across my shaved pubes and down my slit. It brushed across first one thigh and then the other; I heard a soft swish and then it landed right smack on my cunt. Again and again it landed, and again the conflicting sensations drove me to distraction. The thuds of its impacts on my pussy were offset by the intense darts of pleasure when one or two of the tails landed directly on my rock-hard clit.

The pussy whipping stopped after perhaps a dozen strokes, and I felt Robert’s fingers slide caressingly across my right breast and begin to tease the nipple to even greater length and hardness. “Mmmmmm,” I moaned, and he pinched my nipple between his fingers to signal me to be silent. Then I felt the bite of a clamp closing slowly on the nipple he’d been teasing, and I clamped my lips shut as the pain became more and more intense. It plateaued at a level I could barely handle without crying out; the clamp was so tight I felt a burning sensation where it compressed my nipple. I prepared myself for the pain of the other clamp that I knew was coming, and when it started to take hold I let my breath out sharply but made no other sound.