Letters to Penthouse XXXVI (27 page)

Then I heard the click of high heels. She had returned. She loosened the hog-tie and lifted me to a kneeling position. She
then briefly removed my gag and gave me a long, wet kiss with her tongue probing my mouth. She drew my head down and allowed
me to kiss her breast through her silky bra before untying my legs and ankles and leading me upstairs to the bed.

There I lay facedown, still blindfolded and arms secured while she tied my feet to a spreader bar and released my wrists.
That was brief, however, as she had me kneel with my chest to the bed and my wrists between my legs. She pulled them down
and secured them to my ankles, effectively doubling me over and leaving my naked ass pointing skyward. She gave me a light
slap and told me that she intended to have fun with my helpless body.

I love to fuck Gwen’s perfect ass, and the moment I smelled the K-Y jelly I knew she meant to reciprocate. The cold goo was
rubbed into my ass and her fingers played at loosening me up before the shaft of a vibrator began to penetrate my ass. It
felt strange at first, but increasingly I began to enjoy it. Before I was aroused enough to come, however, she removed the
thing and reworked my bonds.

This time she retied my wrists and ankles to the bedposts and unfastened the blindfold, allowing me to see her beautiful face
for the first time that evening. She kissed me and said I had done well so far, but there was more to come.

She undid my gag, took off her leather thong, and pushed her pussy to my mouth. I began to lick her, but it was not what I
was used to. She had shaved her pubic hair except for a little band that pointed down to her clit. I lapped eagerly at her
sweet nectar, totally turned on. She began moving responsively, reveling in her impending orgasm. Before she came she moved
away, and for the next half hour or so she teased my body with a variety of sensations, from feathers and fur to hot wax and
ice. My cock was ready to burst!

Gwen straddled me again, this time to engulf my cock in her mouth. Sensing that I was right on the edge, she let go and took
up her favorite dildo, teasing me by fucking herself with it as she rubbed her pussy. She had only masturbated in front of
me once before. Her face became flushed and she closed her eyes. Then she was overcome and collapsed across my bound form.

After her breathing returned to normal, she rose and smiled at me. She renewed her oral assault on my cock, but raised her
hips so high above my mouth I could not reach her sex. She let go of my throbbing organ and I pleaded with her to continue,
but she reminded me that it was she alone who would determine when and how I came. She blindfolded me again, and I thought
she had left the room. Once again I struggled futilely with my bonds.

After a few minutes, I was startled by her mouth on my cock and then by her moving over my hips to guide my shaft into her
waiting pussy. She kept the pace slow until she started to come again, and then sped things up until I shot my load in an
explosion of come. I was totally satisfied and becoming very relaxed. Gwen bent down and kissed me on the cheek, saying she
loved me.

With my fantasy fulfilled, it was now obviously time for her to free me, but instead I heard her getting dressed and walking
toward the door. What? She wasn’t going to let me loose? Then I heard her say, “I’ll be back to feed you in the morning.”
I protested, but she was in control and loving it. She left the room singing, “Happy birthday, dear love slave.”

I hoped she was kidding about leaving me there till breakfast. Then I thought what I would be doing to her if the roles were
reversed and smiled inwardly. You bet she was going to let me lie there all night. And she was undoubtedly planning more fun
for the morning.

—Mr. B.Y., Washington

When I married Gil nine years ago, my friends and relatives were not too pleased. While they liked Gil, they thought I was
marrying beneath myself. After all, they reasoned, a college graduate with such a good head on her shoulders should be able
to do better than a high-school graduate with a blue-collar job. Sooner or later, and probably sooner, they all agreed, the
differences in our schooling and interests would drive us apart. It was inevitable.

Well, today those same friends and relatives—a few of whom are in less-than-perfect relationships—are shaking their heads
in amazement that Gil and I are still together. But it’s not all that hard to understand, really. While my husband has little
interest in so-called intellectual pursuits, he is chock-full of common sense, considerate of my needs, helpful around the
house, sweet, thoughtful, and altogether masterful in the bedroom. He’s also attractive in a rugged, unkempt sort of way.
He likes to hunt and fish and, well, I guess he’s what you’d call a man’s man. But there’s more.

Early on in our relationship, Gil and I realized we enjoyed a sexual compatibility that was special. He, quite naturally,
is very comfortable in the dominant role, whereas I am very happy being submissive. Truth be told, I knew I was in love with
Gil the first time he took me over his knee for a vigorous, old-fashioned spanking. And I knew it would be foolish to let
him get away. What did I care if he didn’t know from
Swan Lake
, if he thought Shakespeare might have played for the 1946 Cubs? He knew exactly how to press all my erotic buttons, and that,
for me, was everything.

Adding to my husband’s magic is his gift for woodworking. He is a skilled craftsman, capable of turning a nondescript chunk
of wood into something not only functional but beautiful. He’s made most of the furniture in our finished basement, and my
dad is still talking about the gorgeous desk Gil gave him for his birthday last year. But for me, Gil does his best work when
he’s making something that has to do with reddening my rear, like the beautifully finished, leather-covered paddle he gave
me yesterday for our anniversary. Or the ultracomfortable “spanking bench” he surprised me with on my last birthday.

Ah, the spanking bench. Simple in design, it stands about two and a half feet high and is rectangular in shape. The bench
is padded on top and has two cutouts for my breasts. At one end, at either corner, are two large eye-bolts, which together
with red velvet ropes are used to secure my wrists and hold my arms outstretched and immobile. It’s beautiful.

Tears of happiness welled in my eyes when I unwrapped my birthday gift and saw my husband’s latest work of art, designed with
my pleasure and comfort in mind. I gave him a big hug and then, with my pussy all atingle, insisted we try out the bench immediately.
Gil, of course, thought that was an outstanding idea. Within minutes, I was stark naked and kneeling in front of the bench,
then moving forward and guiding my breasts through the cutouts, wriggling a bit as I got comfortable. Then I stretched out
my arms so Gil could fasten a velvet rope around each wrist. Now, kneeling on the carpeted floor with my top half resting
on the padded bench top, my bottom thrust out lewdly, I was all set to receive my spanking. The anticipation alone was enough
to start my pussy leaking like a faucet.

And I was not alone in my arousal; my husband, as evidenced by his world-class erection, was as excited by all this as I was.
Teasingly, he walked around the bench a few times, turning the solid oak Ping-Pong paddle (another of his creations) over
in his hand as he enjoyed the sight of his submissive wife awaiting her spanking.

“Are you ready, Joanne?” he asked in his most devilish tone of voice.

“Oh, yes,” I answered immediately. “Do it! Give me what I need so badly.”

“You want me to whack your ass good? Turn those luscious cheeks scarlet?”

“Please, don’t tease me,” I whined. “Make me feel it. I want it hard.”

With the right side of my face resting against the bench top, I could just about see my husband take up a position behind
me and bring the paddle back. And then… smack! I cried out as the paddle cracked against my left buttock, stinging the taut
flesh. Smack! This time it was the right buttock. I yelled again, instinctively pulling at the soft ropes that held my wrists
to the eyebolts on the bench. But, of course, escape was the furthest thing from my mind.

With practiced skill, my husband quickly established a delightfully wicked rhythm as he paddled my bottom, turning the half
moons of flesh beet red. I was awash in pleasure/pain, both loving and hating the feel of the hard paddle as it smashed again
and again on my defenseless behind. Gil, pausing momentarily, knelt at the side of the bench and reached under it to roughly
knead my hanging breasts.

“Your nipples are as hard as pebbles,” he observed, pinching each one in turn. “You must like getting your ass burned.”

“I do, I do,” I said breathlessly. “Give me more, baby. Please.”

When my husband got up to resume spanking me, I saw that his beautiful cock was protruding proudly from its nest of reddish
pubic hair. All this did was make me that much hotter and wetter. A hard fucking following a wicked thrashing of my butt has
always been my idea of heaven. I knew that Gil wouldn’t disappoint me.

After giving me another six blows with the Ping-Pong paddle, my husband went and got the sorority-style paddle he’d made for
me soon after we married. It was a favorite of mine, not so much because of its design but because it was the very first spanking
implement to come from his workbench in the basement. And that was where we tried it out, in the basement, with me bent over
his workbench, my jeans and panties bunched around my ankles as my husband “initiated” me.

And now, just as then, I howled in pleasure/pain as Gil laid into my butt with the sorority-style paddle—on which, by the
way, as a finishing touch he had put decals showing a couple fucking in various positions. My ass was throbbing by the time
he stopped and loosened the ropes holding me to the bench. I couldn’t wait to feel his cock plunging deep inside me.

As expected, Gil put the icing on the cake by fucking me with even more gusto than usual, his effort no doubt inspired by
the way I had responded to his sensational birthday gift. We did it fast and hard right there on the floor next to the spanking
bench, finishing up doggy-style with both of us gasping and groaning and finally coming in an explosion of ecstasy.

But that was then. Now what about the beautiful leather-covered paddle Gil gave me yesterday? Well, he’s taking me out to
dinner this Saturday and then, when we return home, we’ll try it out. Then I guess I’ll accompany him downstairs and watch
him work on his latest masterpiece. It’s a heavy wooden frame with holes for confining my ankles and wrists. Like the stocks
of old, you know? Every time I picture myself in that thing while my husband has at my poor, vulnerable ass I get soaking
wet. He says it should be finished in a few weeks. I certainly hope so.
—Ms. J.P., New Jersey

My wife is a deliciously hot little vest-pocket Venus, and I wanted to give her the best birthday present she’d ever had.
We’d tried all sorts of erotic games between ourselves, and we’d also talked about having other guys do her as part of the
fun, but we’d never gotten around to acting on it. This seemed like the perfect occasion, so, unbeknownst to Tina, I invited
a couple of our friends over for a private party.

Tina was in the bathroom fixing her makeup, not yet aware of my plans. I came up behind her and slipped my arm around her
waist, turning her to me and sliding my hand over a firm ass cheek as I kissed her. Wearing only a garter belt and stockings,
she looked good enough to eat. I slid down to my knees until I had her pussy right in front of me, peeking out of the golden
curls she keeps closely trimmed.

I kissed my way down her flat belly and invaded the moist curls with my lips and tongue. Instinctively her legs spread, and
I parted her swollen lips with my fingers. She was wet and shivering with excitement, and the perfume of her sex was strong
as I tongued her clit. When I knew she was about to come, I stopped abruptly, earning a petulant but delicious pout.