Perfect Balance

Walking behind me, he taps my behind; the crops slap louder than its bite.

“Let’s see how your yoga classes are coming. Bend at the waist, legs apart, grab your ankles.”

“It’s called a wide-legged forward fold.” I reply, just a hint of derision in my tone. It’s enough to catch his attention, enough for him to notice the slip.

“You forget, little girl. I’m the one holding the crop,” comes his reply simultaneously with the bite of the leather. The echo of my startled cry muffles the usual slap.

“As much as I enjoy watching you touch your toes, that’s obviously too easy, if you’re still full of sass. Arms out straight, to either side. Back too.”

I do as I’m bid, resisting the urge to shuffle my feet or rub my backside. Anything to eliminate the lingering sting.

Once in the desired position, his fingers roam over the globes of my ass, beneath my panties, through my lips to my anus. I relax into his groping, when suddenly he moves away. Gently he settles the crop over my lower back, finding the center balance point.

“For being such a mouthy girl, I want you to hold that position for three minutes. If the crop falls, you start again. If your arms lower. You start again. If you collapse, what do you think will happen?”

“I’ll start again?” I ask, everything inside me resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes, you will. For the next three minutes, I don’t want to hear a single word out of your pretty mouth, unless it’s red. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Without replying, he walks away, sits in the chair in the corner, where he presses a button on a timer. Spreading his legs wide, he lowers his zipper, then takes out his cock. Stroking gently, it stands at full height. He continues to rub himself, slowly, methodically, his eyes not once leaving mine. I can’t do anything but lick my lips as I watch, mesmerized by the sight.

By the end of the first minute, my arms are shaking, a sweat has formed on my brow. His cock is swollen, pre-come leaking from the tip. He looks glorious, stroking himself, and as much as I want to taste him, be beneath him, the view is certainly helping keep me rooted in place.

At the end of the second, my legs are shaking as well. My arms burn like they’re filled with liquid flame. My brow isn’t the only place where sweat has formed. It glazes my body, glistening in the dim light. His erection shines too as he lubricates each stroke with his own juice. My mouth is dry, my cunt wet.

The final fifteen seconds on the timer have my bum shaking too. I can feel the crop teetering back and forth as I try to control the vibrations, attempt to balance it out. But nothing helps. I finally look away from him, but can’t help but notice that the cords at the side of his neck are strung tight as he massages his cock. His determined look telling me he’s also close to the end of his endurance. The last seconds count down, and I breathe a sigh of relief as the timer flashes down to two, then one, finalized by a small, seemingly insignificant beep.

Standing, he walks to me. I haven’t moved, not sure if I should, barely able to hold my arms up, panting as I harness whatever strength I have left. He presses the tip of his cock into my mouth, caressing onto the back of my neck, fingers kneading gently.

“Lower your arms. You handled that well.” Then, with only time for a small breath, he slips to the back of my throat, a long groan spilling from his lips as his seed spills down my throat, the crop aligned with perfect balance on my back.

“You’re such a good girl.” he whispers, before helping me stand.

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