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To the Victor Go to Spoils

Squealing and giggling she tries crawling over the furniture, clad only in her bra and panties. I reach with my crop and with a quick snap, leave a perfect little impression all over her well-shaped butt. “I score again!” I boast. “It seems like it might be best if you just give up right now. As your conqueror, I promise to rule fairly,” I jokingly declare with an air of obvious false humility. We’ve played this game many times in the past, and I’ve never lost. The “slapper” chases his/her half-naked prey around the house for a full 5 minutes, and after that, the roles are reversed. The “winner” is the one who lands the most marks on the other’s backside.

With my superiority in this playful love sport seemingly established, I flipped the crop over my shoulder and turned my back. I took to the hallway, and confidently strutted towards the bedroom, where I would await my reward.

Whap! A sudden chilling siting caught my attention. Whap, Whap, Whap, the crop rained mischievously down upon my own barely concealed backside. Her once famine giggles soon turned to a very sexy, haughty laugh. Between chuckles she proudly informed me how she had hidden an extra crop for just such an emergency.

Realizing I’d Lost this round, I surrendered to her barrage and accepted her terms. I must confess, If this is what defeat is like, I could get used to it.

RIDING CROP:

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