Early in our marriage I discovered that Cindy had a
fascination for leather. Although I had enjoyed some very exciting experiences with mild bondage and even some spanking with a couple of the girls I had dated before I met her, the topic hadn't come up - at least not directly. Cindy hadn't given the slightest indication of any interest in that direction and I was loath to offend her and possibly spoil what had rapidly turned into a dream courtship and marriage. The worn cliche that we were "made for each other" fit us like a glove.

 We live on a small isolated hobby farm that I inherited from
my dad, at the end of a half mile lane that leads to the main
highway into the city where I work. It was a completely new
experience for Cindy, who had grown up in a small city apartment, but one of the things I love the most about her is that she can
almost instantly adapt to any situation. Within a week after we
returned from our honeymoon she had settled in, as if she had lived right there all her life.  One thing that helped was the 54-inch television set we'd received as a wedding present from her folks.

 Like any "farmer" I had a couple of dogs, both mutts, and
both with an insatiable desire to tangle with either the porcupines or the skunks that threatened to overrun the small woods near the house. I had a fenced in area for them to run, but whenever we took them with us for a walk, they had to be on a leash. I didn't know it, but those walks would be the key to opening a whole new vista of sexual pleasure.

 It began innocently enough. I was on the phone while Cindy
was getting the dogs, putting on their collars and attaching the leashes. I glanced out the window and saw her fondling the collars as the dogs jumped excitedly about her, quieting instantly as she stooped to close and buckle them around their necks. Distracted I tried to make coherent conversation on the phone as I watched her supple fingers caress the collars and then slide the leather leashes sensuously through her hands, my cock suddenly stiff against my shorts.

 As we walked through the trees I kept my eyes on her, alert
for more signs to confirm my suspicions and they weren't long in coming. Cindy had a leash in each hand, at first in her fingers and then suddenly she slipped both looped ends simultaneously over her wrists. In any other circumstances I would have ignored it as merely a move to better control the dogs, avoiding a sudden jerk that could pull the leash from her hands. In my inflamed imagination it was as if she had suddenly bound her wrists, sending vivid flashes of pure animal lust through my system. When the dogs excitedly lunged and darted in different directions, dragging her arms with them I thought I'd blow my wad on the spot.

 Cindy turned to say something to me and at a glance took in
my very obvious erection. She grinned, blushing a little, as if
divining just why I was sporting a rock-hard boner. She practically posed for me, each dog sniffing a tree, holding her arms extended. I was ready to take her right there, but I knew the dogs wouldn't give us any peace, so without saying a word I crooked my finger and beckoned to her, motioning back toward the house. The dogs were
momentarily disappointed that their walk was cut short, but quickly caught the urgency of my stride and literally pulled Cindy all the way back.

 I got the message loud and clear when Cindy turned the dogs
loose in the run, unsnapping the leashes and coiling the leather loosely in her hands, the handles still around her wrists, as if forgotten. She gave me a look that seared the paint off the pony stall door, turned and headed for the house, her butt snapping back and forth in her tight jeans in the wildest invitation I'd ever been a party to. I slammed the door to the run shut, dropped the bar in place and bounded after her. I made the back steps in one leap and was within an arm's length when she walked through the kitchen door.

 To my amazement her jeans were unzipped, belt unbuckled,
blouse open down to here when she turned around to face me, her
eyes like a pair of lasers drawing me to her. I grabbed two hands full of body, screwed my tongue down past her tonsils and didn't even bother to come up for air. She stood there, hands at her sides, the leashes falling to the floor on either side, as if glued to the spot. I took her down with me, the cool tile coming up to meet us. I swear those two pieces of leather never moved from the spot where she dropped them, "tying" her arms.

 I just about threw a rod watching her fight those leashes as
I ripped her jeans down her legs. I still don't remember (and
neither does Cindy) just how I got her usually tight boots off, but we found them much later back beside the refrigerator. The blouse was history, shreds flying in all directions. I was grunting like a pig, stripping what was left, down to bare hide before I knew it, because my demure little bride had somehow anticipated all of this and hadn't bothered to install panties and bra when she dressed.
 
 My own pants got no farther than my knees, leaving me ready for action. Cindy's ass was bouncing off the tiles before I even got near her, my cock spearing into the warmest, wettest, tightest pussy in one fluid motion that buried my manhood right to the hilt. Cindy came as we met the second time and continued to come in convulsive little jerks every few strokes until I couldn't withstand the pounding she was giving me with her pelvis, coming straight off the kitchen floor like a jackhammer. I groaned as I felt my load thunder into her hot cavity, the spurts setting off a climax that paled anything we had ever experienced.

 I collapsed over her, still inside, still hard, but about as energetic as a limp dishrag, feeling the little ripples as her muscles continued to caress me in a series of after shocks. When I could think coherently again I realized that despite the way she had thrashed and wiggled under me, her wrists had never moved an iota from the position they had taken when they hit the floor. They might just as well have been bolted to the tile.

 Cindy finally opened her eyes again, coming back from her distant place, smiling like she'd just won a million dollar lottery. She lay there, making no move to clasp me in her arms, even though I could feel the blood throbbing in my hardness. Her legs were free of course, and I felt them closing about me, drawing me even deeper. Watching her eyes, I whispered,

 "You didn't tell me you were a leather fan."

 The grin turned impish, and so help me, she blushed.

 "You might have thought I was weird, or something."

 Before I could answer she did something with her pussy that felt as if she was sucking my nuts right inside her, making me gasp,

 "That... leather happens to be my specialty too."

 Cindy nodded smugly, her glance admitting that she had known it all along. She raised her head, pointedly looking first at one wrist, then the other, drawing my eyes to them, watching as she strained every muscle to pull them from the bind of the leather loops, the tendons standing out under her fair skin, her fingers like claws scratching for freedom. Denied escape, she sighed and lay back, my helpless prisoner, eyes smoky with promise.

 Deep in her wet tunnel, my cock head twitched and swelled, soaking up energy from her fantasy, suddenly moving again, renewing the love dance that orgasm had interrupted. I could feel myself reaching deeper and deeper, this time smoothly, without the haste, but this time it was my fair Cindy who was grunting with each stroke, panting like a marathon runner. There were none of the little miniature orgasms this time as she saved everything in her body for a single monster climax that left us both totally drained.

 Later, I finally had to take the two leashes forcibly away from her. She didn't bother to dress, simply tossing her boots and jeans into the bedroom and closing the door. The collar of her blouse was about all that was left, a tatter of cloth hanging from it down her back. She walked around the house, nipples stiff, trailing the leashes from her wrists as if totally unaware of them while I was panting after her with an ache in my balls that wouldn't quit. She stood passively as I slipped the leather straps over her hands, melting my guts with a look that made the future look like paradise.

 We didn't get a wink of sleep that night, sharing a vintage bottle of wine, alternating between screwing our brains out and discussing our mutual interests in leather, bondage, discipline and all the allied sexual pleasures. Cindy seemed to know an amazing amount about the topics for a virgin, but when I prodded she just gave me an enigmatic smile and changed the topic to the immediate prospect of more sex.

 Gradually I drew her out. The more we talked the more freely she described her interests and her fantasies. Eventually she admitted having seen me watching at the window and putting on the little show with the collars and leashes for my benefit. I was so pleasantly surprised that I had so completely misjudged Cindy that I could barely keep my end of the conversation going, my mind already racing with the possibilities and some sketchy plans for our future sex life. I finally muttered, half under my breath,

 "Looks like I'm going to have to establish a leash law around this household."

 Very deliberately, provoking me, Cindy stuck out her tongue at me, then curled it all the way around her mouth, caressing her lips with it as she watched my startled expression. Suddenly she rolled over next to me, half raising herself on her elbows, whispering urgently in my unbelieving ear,

 "Can you picture me, nude, helpless, leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, your collar on my neck, your leash taut from my neck to your fist. I can be made to do anything you want me to do. All you have to do is whip me with that leather thong in your other hand. I am powerless to prevent you from fucking me but I will struggle, fight my bonds, try to evade the whip even as you punish me. You can train me to satisfy any whim with your cruel whip, even make me beg to take your cock in my mouth or up my ass....."

 She stopped, not because she was out of breath, or ideas, but because I had just fired my howitzer, spewing a string of semen from my belly button to my chin. No, I was NOT jacking off, or even touching my cock. It was the mental picture that I was drawing from the erotics she was hissing in my ear that fired my load. Cindy, never one to waste anything, proceeded to lick up every drop, pausing to grin devilishly between swipes of her talented tongue, and side trips to nip my tiny but turgid nipples with her smooth white teeth.

 By the time she was done I was ready to drill for oil, rolling her back and committing what under other circumstances could have been mistaken for a rape. I was banging her like a sack of cement and she was eating it up. She quickly went into overdrive, climaxing like someone beating a tom-tom, a long drawn out multiple orgasm that left her squirming helplessly on the bed.

 Driving to work the next morning I had to pull off and stuff my handkerchief in my shorts to keep from staining my slacks, my rampant cock leaking fluid like a Ford pickup on its second 100,000 miles. I was alternating between gleefully planning our evening and shaking my head over my wife's power to arouse me and the superb way she had punched my buttons. Despite not having had a wink of sleep, I was wide awake, alert and surging with new found energy.

 My lunch hour was allotted to the local sex shop, which had some of the sleaziest, raunchiest books and magazines available anywhere, but also carried a top of the line assortment of bondage gear. I put a semi-permanent dent in my plastic card, but it was enough to half fill the trunk of the car. The clerk hauled a couple of magazines from under the counter as a bonus, the quick glimpse of the covers before they joined the rest of the gear assuring me that they'd make exciting reading - if I could get them away from Cindy!

 When I opened the door, Cindy was standing, waiting. She was wearing three things. Her heels, a smile and a blindfold. Well, four. She had buckled one of the dog collars around her neck, and was holding the leash handle out to me. Still a bit unnerved, I took it from her as she automatically backed away until it was taut.

 I moved my hand. Cindy maintained the tension in the leash, moving swiftly to match. Exerting a slight pressure I ordered,

 "Down."

 Her naked body fluidly sought the floor, kneeling at my feet. The effect on me was electric, literally making my whole body tingle, while my balls threatened to erupt in unison with my pulsing cock. Gritting my teeth, I commanded,

 "Heel."

 Never once allowing the leash to slacken, she dropped forward onto her hands, turning as she went down, then backing beside me until her head was just behind my left knee. Without a word I stepped forward, walking toward the living room. Cindy obediently crawled behind me on her hands and knees. Fascinated by the power of the leather strap in my hand I brought her to the middle of the rug.

 "Stay."

 Cindy stopped, rigid. Holding the leash taut, I walked around her, avidly taking in her beautiful body, thrilling to her submission. When I had made a complete circle I gave a tug to the leash,

 "Heel, UP!"  "Stay!"

 With only a momentary hesitation Cindy guessed right and lifted to her feet, keeping her hands flat on the floor, pushing her cute ass up and out. I walked behind her, admiring the view, probing with my free hand. She opened her legs slightly in a blatant invitation as I reached between them, cupping her pussy and pushing my finger into her tightness. As I expected she was literally swimming in her juices. She whimpered softly, the first sound she had uttered.

 For a long moment I considered dropping my pants and ravishing her from the rear, but I had what I sincerely hoped would be even more exciting plans for the evening. It had been more than 36 hours since either of us had had any sleep and I wasn't too sure of my staying power. As it turned out, Cindy and her leash would have raised a boner on a corpse so I didn't need to worry.

 "Heel, Down."

 At the bedroom door, I tried a new command as I slackened the leash,

 "Crawl!"

 Perfectly, Cindy sprawled full length on the rug, never once allowing the leash to sag, crawling on her belly where I led her, dragging her erect nipples through the nap of the thick rug and leaving a sheen of moisture behind from her sopping pussy.

 Dropping the leash on the rug beside her head I again ordered her to "stay," then "roll over." I hurried out to the garage to retrieve the boxes in the trunk, first carefully adjusting my painful prick which was trying to split the seams of my pants. It took two trips to bring everything in, delayed by my overwhelming need to stop and drink in the sight of my nude wife stretched provocatively on the floor. As I gazed down at her I could see the burning sparks of desire shooting from her eyes, fanning my own fires.

 Opening one box, I knelt beside her and fitted the stiff newness of the leather cuffs about her wrists and ankles. Cindy responded with a whimper of desire at each new bond, the faintest of squirms twisting through her body. I warned her with another "stay,' which was enough to halt any further movement but her breathing quickened, doing delightful things to her pert breasts, rocking their firmness seductively.

 I saved her collar for last. It was a work of art, the leather carved and embossed, the D rings gleaming with chrome, with a tiny matching padlock that snapped through the eye of the buckle prong. I had very nearly balked at paying $10 for a lock that a toothpick could open, but I instinctively knew that the symbolism of the thing would not be lost on Cindy.

 I pulled off the blindfold and held the collar before her eyes, letting her look at it, dropping in closer to let her smell the rich aroma of leather. To my surprise she raised her head slightly, never taking her eyes from mine and kissed it, her tongue darting out and caressing the leather in a symbolic display of her own.

 Tugging the new leash gently, I patted the bed with my hand,

 "Up."

 Cindy swung her long legs under her and knelt on her hands and knees, eying the bed, high enough so that it was above eye level. As I watched open mouthed, she crawled forward, put her hands on the mattress, lifting herself. If you have ever seen a dog crawl onto a bed, rather than jump on, then you know how she lifted one leg up and used it to lever herself up and over the edge, rolling to her back, and so help me, holding her brand new cuffs up in the air for me to see. By this time my cock was threatening to strangulate in my shorts so I dropped the leash long enough to shuck my clothes.

 Cindy held her position, a Mona Lisa smile flickering over her face as she watched my rod spring free and wave at her. Somehow I got untangled from the last of my clothes and grabbed her leash again,

 "Roll over!"

 I was panting the words out, pumping adrenalin by the bucket. Even as she obeyed I joined her on the bed, moving over one leg to kneel between them. Slapping her ass I gritted,

 "Upppp!"

 It was like one of those dream sequences in a movie. Her ass seemed to rear back and up at me in very slow motion, aiming instinctively for my groin. She speared herself, sucking me into her pussy right to the base. I groaned with the sweet agony of her muscles tightening about me. I kicked into gear, ramming her hard, my hand tugging the leash in a tempo that had her slamming right back at me, giving me as good as I was dishing out. The back and forth rhythm was insatiable, irresistible. Cindy screamed as she came and I let out a strangled roar as I spewed a bucket of come into her hot box.

 It went into the record books as "A glorious fuck." We still use it as a marker to compare with other events in our sex life, and frankly there are damn few that really measure up to it, it was that good. I managed to make it to a pillow before I collapsed, and we both slept as we were. I woke up at 3 AM, took one look at Cindy, snoring gently away, sprawled on top of the bed, still wearing her cuffs and collar. the leash hanging over one tit, and I had to have her right then, bladder or no.

 She woke panting, and came almost instantly, more excited than I had ever seen her. I came about six strokes later, and I'll be darned if she didn't match me, yelling in my ear loud enough to deafen me. After that I couldn't wait, and while she used the toilet I used the floor drain in the shower. We both wanted more, but neither of us could have torn open a wet paper bag, so we were asleep again almost instantly.

 Leaving for work the next morning was a pain! I mean, a pain! Cindy flatly refused to let me remove the cuffs and collar, and as blithely refused to put on even one stitch of clothing, so by the time I finished breakfast it felt like somebody had stuck my nuts in a vise and closed it tight. I threatened to call in sick, only to be told in no uncertain terms that I had better work my ass off to pay for all the leather that I had mortgaged the farm for. Cindy was no fool when it came to making financial ends meet as well as our ends....

 (I stood it at the office until about 10 o'clock and then headed to the john to jerk off, but she's not supposed to know that.}

 The scene when I got home that night was much like the previous evening, with several notable exceptions. Cindy was kneeling at the door waiting for me, her leash neatly coiled on the serving tray she was holding. I wasn't about to wait long enough to get her to the bedroom so we coupled frantically right there in the front hall - and then we dashed for the bedroom and screwed like a pair of mink for the rest of the evening.

 When we finally came up for air - and some much needed food - Cindy was grinning across the table at me as I kept looking at her excruciatingly erect nipples peeping over the edge. Half embarrassed, she turned and picked up a piece of paper from the counter behind her and silently handed it to me. I glanced at the top of the page and then looked at her. Her eyes were hot, ready. I grinned back at her and got up and went back to the front hall where I had abandoned my briefcase.

 Cindy watched me with open curiosity as I walked back into the room and handed her a sheet of paper. She dropped her gaze, read the first line and snapped her eyes back to mine, mouth open in surprise,

 "How... How did you know?"

 "It doesn't exactly take a mind reader to figure this out."

 "When did you do all this?"

 "I spent most of the afternoon on the computer. Frankly, all I could think about was you, waiting at the door when I got home. When did you do your list?"

 Cindy grinned again, shivering with arousal rather than a chill, her eyes boring holes in my mind,

 "I've, umm, been working on this for... several months."

 "Well, that explains a lot of things."

 "It doesn't explain how you came up with the exact same idea," Glancing quickly up and down my list, she added,

 "... and a lot of the same things I had listed."

 "Just call it a lucky guess."

 I took my eyes off her long enough to read the list she had handed me, titled - as you might guess my list was headed - "Leash Law." Just as she had commented, many of her rules were identical to the ones I had composed. I nodded several times as I spotted a fresh idea that I had overlooked, but my eyes widened in near shock when I reached the final paragraph, sub-titled, "Penalties."

 I glanced at Cindy, who was speed reading my list. She finished, a satisfied smirk on her face. When she looked up I ostentatiously re-read the last few sentences. On my list, I had suggested a spanking as a reward for disobedience of any of the rules. My minx of a wife made no bones in her list about expecting to be punished with a riding crop, laying out a schedule for herself that would keep her butt the permanent color of an August sunset if she so much as sneezed while on the leash.

 We looked at each other for a long moment, wordlessly. I got up from the table and walked into the bedroom, opening the closet where I had stored the boxes. They were untouched. Opening one, I reached in and grasped the finely balanced braided leather crop that had been the first item I had picked out at the sex shop. Holding it at the ready I walked back into the kitchen. Cindy was kneeling, waiting, holding her hands limply, just below her breasts, a classic pose, her back stiff and erect, forcing her chest out. The evening began all over again.....

 Cindy is thriving under leash law. The complicated and restrictive rules that evolved from the two parallel lists govern almost every waking moment of her home life. True to my prediction, she breaks more than enough of the rules to keep her twin cheeks well striped and tender, always careful to make it appear that her lapses are "accidental."

 This is not just a phase, either. We just celebrated our second wedding anniversary and "leash law" has been in effect almost every day of that two years without either of us becoming tired of it or bored. It's just the opposite, because between the two of us we are never at a loss for some new "trick" for Cindy to be taught. The more stringent my training methods, the more she thrives on it and as you can well imagine it would take a major catastrophe to stop or delay me from hurrying home each evening after work.

 You'd probably get a chuckle out of the fact that Cindy, after her first burst of enthusiasm, quickly developed into a slow learner, forcing me to meticulously repeat attempts to show her how to do something and having to constantly reinforce my commands with the whip. One of the first rules that she suggested herself was an extra penalty whenever I had to repeat an order, so naturally she has incurred numerous extra stripes as a result.

 There are quite a number of the rules that we worked out that are especially private, so I won't embarrass Cindy by detailing them. Among the ones that I can describe are those that include her having to kneel and kiss the floor whenever she enters a room where a leash is hanging. She cannot touch the leash except to attach it to her collar, has to keep it taut when she is blindfolded, must never let the leash touch her skin and has to remain in place whenever I drop the leash.

 Cindy is not allowed to speak or make any noise of any kind while she is leashed, unless I ask her a question. This is probably the rule that gets bent or broken the most, as when she gets excited she is very vocal. Having a quiet orgasm for her is about like asking a magpie to quit chattering. But, the idea was on both of our original lists so we are in complete agreement on that score.

 For our first anniversary I gave her a chain leash. Now, when I order, "Chain," she hurries off to find it, (on all fours), knowing that it signals a special, very rigorous training session which ultimately will end with Cindy chained firmly to the bed, grinding her welted rear end into the sheets beneath me. There's no set schedule for this, but we usually have them at least once or twice a month.

 In case you're wondering, Yes, we still take the dogs for a walk in the woods. But now Cindy is rather more of a "walkee" than a walker. In other words it's more the dogs who take her for a walk than the other way around.

   Of all the leather items that I bought that first trip to the sex shop, the one that most caught Cindy's fancy was the black punishment helmet. For her it never was a punishment to wear it. So much so that I finally had to forcibly remove it from her head and lock it away for several weeks. It stayed despite a lot of tearful pleas, dozens of promises to "be good," and two or three highly erotic offers of sexual pleasure.

 That was the final straw, so she spent three straight days on the chain leash over a holiday weekend and three straight nights of doing all the things she had tried to bribe me with, with lots and lots of encouragement from my crop. The only problem was that she just about wore me out and I got kidded by everybody the first day back at work.

 Anyway, the upshot was that I use the punishment helmet as a special treat for Cindy, such as when I walk the dogs - and let them walk her. The command is "helmet and leash," which permits Cindy to remove the helmet from its special case and bring it to me. She doesn't have to be reminded to bring the gag, at least not after a couple of extra sessions with the whip, but she has to wear it to keep her from forgetting and trying to control the dogs....

 Her walking uniform is helmet and heels. If she is being punished for anything special, she goes barefoot, which she hates because her vivid imagination makes a snake out of anything soft underfoot and accidental contact with a worm is good for a mild case of hysterics, which really isn't that easy to do when you're gagged and locked in a helmet.

 I hook the leash on the D-ring at the nape of her neck, walking her out of the house to the dog run. You can literally see her crawl into the helmet to hide when she steps out onto the porch, certain that I've sold tickets to every neighbor for 10 miles to come and watch her nude parade. It takes a couple of brisk zingers to snap her out of that recurring fantasy, but she's told me that she "knows" that someone is watching her from the moment she leaves the protection of the house until she is safely back inside. That this keeps her aroused to a fever pitch is a given.

 I put the collars and leashes on the dogs while they are busy sniffing Cindy. The big one usually gooses her with his cold nose, drawing a well muffled protest from inside the helmet, that gets even louder if he gets around in front of her and nuzzles her pussy. When they are ready I snap the leashes on Cindy's wrist cuffs. She of course is under strict orders not to touch the leashes, but to make sure, I use the rings on the backs of her wrists.

 It's a magic sound for the dogs, signaling the start of their walk. Claws dig in, muscles strain and they are off for the woods, Cindy perforce following in their footsteps, her own leash running tautly back to my guiding hand. If there WAS someone watching, they'd certainly get an eyeful!

 The dogs took to this new "game" that their master and mistress were playing like ducks to water. They were sort of confused the first couple of times, but after that they got the hang of it and I swear searched out an obstacle course to put mistress through her paces that would do a marine boot camp proud.

 One of my own ideas that the dog's antics suggested was a penalty of five strokes of the crop whenever they led Cindy into something - like a bush or a tree - that she couldn't step over. The two dogs would frequently charge off in opposite directions, hapless Cindy bringing up the rear, her arms pulled in different directions in an ever changing pattern of movement that kept her completely disoriented.

 Quite a ways out in the woods there was a hugh old pine tree that was at least four feet through at the base. We had used it as a marker, walking to it before turning around to go back to the house. The dogs knew that it was the end point, so they always headed straight for it.

 The third time we took Cindy for a walk, the dogs were working as a team, giving her a really rough time. When they finally spotted the tree, after several halts for a whipping for Cindy and then the job of extricating her from whatever the dogs had led her into, they headed for it as if their lives depended on reaching it, pulling hard on their leashes. Cindy was making noises behind her gag, but the dogs ignored her.

 When they got to the tree, as if at a signal, they split up, each dog running around it. The leashes were just long enough for them to pull Cindy against the tree, with her arms stretched out, as if hugging it. When she stopped, they had to stop too, side by side, panting, their tongues lolling out, grinning at me as I walked around the tree to see.

 "Stay."

 The order was for all three. The dogs obeyed, but Cindy had no choice. She was firmly held, snugged up against the rough bark so that she couldn't struggle without scratching her fair skin on the sharp edges. She reared her helmeted head back as if to pull herself free, but she couldn't move. She made a target I couldn't resist.

 "Five for failing to avoid an obstruction, and five from the dogs as a special present."

 Cindy tossed her head back again, blindly looking straight up at the sky. She said something, three distinct, separate sounds, indecipherable because of the big gag that filled her mouth. She repeated it, then laid her head against the tree, waiting for the whip. I paused after the first five. She made the three sounds again, emphatic, expecting my understanding and an answer. I didn't understand but I answered her with the whip.

  It's a funny thing, which shows that people don't realize just how smart a dog is, but those two dogs took the whole thing in and now about two times out of three they'll run Cindy into the turnaround tree and then sit there smugly while she gets her butt striped. Then they'll lead her home as sedate as could be, as if coming home from a tea party or something.

 After this had happened two or three times, I brought the subject up one night as we were lying in bed. It was a Sunday and Cindy had been wearing the chain leash all day and now was lying on her back with her arms and legs spread out and locked in the permanent shackles I had bolted to the head and footboards. I was idly playing, fingering her pussy and one nipple, making her squirm and grind her rosy red rear against the sheet. Remembering her as she clasped the tree and pushed out against the crop, I asked,

 "What were you trying to say, out there at the tree?

 Cindy turned her head carefully to look at me, avoiding rubbing her neck on her high collar. Her eyes were sparkling, the one outward sign of the raging inferno she had bottled up for me. She grinned half sheepishly as she said three words,

 "Make me COME!"

 So, I did.

  -0-