Kelli

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Chapter 2 of the "Kelli" Series
Kelli's Pony
a continuing story by Robert Deane of DeaneProductions

As another author once wrote, the Wooden Horse has always been known as a devious device, designed for the slow sexual torture of a beautiful woman. Legend has it that its earliest use was in Japan. A similar device was used, also according to legend, in Europe as a general-purpose torture, in its most vicious form a wide triangular wooden plank, set sharp end up. The helpless woman would be lifted into the air and set upon the horse, her full body weight supported on the most tender flesh between her legs. Her legs would be forced wide by the width of the lower part of the plank, with weights attached to the ankles to keep her from falling off, making the ordeal immediately unbearable. 

For my sweet Kelli, as she and I slowly traveled the long path deeper, and deeper, into bondage and domination, I used---to borrow a phrase---a kinder and gentler wooden horse, which she also called "her pony." I used a board, rather than a triangular plank, the thin side pointed upwards. I can not claim it as an original idea; I had found the design from my exploration of the Net. I simply borrowed that idea and adapted it for Kelli. 

Kelli's pony was lower to the ground than the triangular wooden plank, yet high enough that she was forced to stand on her tiptoes to protect the tender and warm flesh between her legs. A spreader bar, attached to her ankles, kept her legs spread wide, immediately adding to the torment and keeping her on her toes. Her wrists were always tied, often behind her back, usually palm to palm. If she had been mischevious, her elbows would be tied, touching, adding to her helplessness. 

She would willingly straddled her pony and was now, with the spreader bar and her wrists tied, was unable to dismount. And then she waited, the look of helplessness in her eyes, as the inevitable muscle fatigue slowly set in. Yes, Kelli was a dancer with strong legs, but even those legs would eventually submit.

 I often used this time to tease her, to tell her of my love for her, to gently kiss her on her lips and to caress her helpless body, starting with the softeness and warmth of her neck and shoulders, sliding my fingers down to the curves of her proud breasts, perhaps to add nipple clamps, then to her hips, and finally to the tender parts that she worked so hard to protect from the harshness of the pony. And when her calves finally tired, as they always would, she used the last of her strength to lower herself as gently as possible to the hard, narrow surface of her pony, the soft flesh between her legs now pressed hard against the thin wood board. It was useless for Kelli to complain or whine. If she did, she would then wear the headharness ballgag, with the too-large-for-her-mouth bright red rubber ball, or the even more dreaded duct tape, wrapped across her lips. 

In a short time, when her muscles could again lift her, she again rose to her toes, but this time only for a few moments. I enjoyed watching my proud and beautiful Kelli, as her muscles eventually throbbed, and as again she lowered herself, carefully placing her body on the pony. And when she did, she pressed her lips tightly togther, to prevent a loud squeal from escaping, at the same time shaking her head back and forth, the long, black hair flying from side to side. Of course there was the eventual glare, in my direction, as if to say that one day I would get my due. 

Each time it took longer for Kelli to summon the strength lift herself up, off of the board. After what I am sure seemed like an eternity riding the unforgiving board, she pointed her toes and pushed up, sweating from the exertion. And each time, comfort became more difficult. She quirmed constantly, rising and lowering, her movements giving it the name of "riding Kelli's pony."

Chapter 3

If any of the creatures of the night were nearby, they would have noticed very strange things happening in the woods behind my ground-floor condo. I had opened the back door, a ray of light spilled into the otherwise dark night and, following that light, I exited through the door.

 It was 3:00 AM, past Saturday night and now into the early hours of Sunday morning. And it was our six-month anniversary. I had hoped that none of my neighbors were watching. I was sure that what followed would certainly have raised more than eyebrows. For at that moment, I held a leather leash in my hand, the other end attached to a black leather collar around Kelli's neck.

 Save for that collar, Kelli was nearly nude. I had taken the time to gag her, using the bright red--and oversized---ballgag held in place by a black leather strap tucked beneath her long, black hair. She was, at that point, unsure of what was to happen. When she found out, I wanted no vocal objections.

 Her legs, those long, gorgeous legs, were covered by her thigh-high black leather boots with the four-inch heels. Her wrists were wrapped with the black leather wrist cuffs, held by small metal clasps to the collar around her neck. Leather cuffs around her ankles allowed me to hobble her with a nine-inch chain, long enough for her to take small steps, but not long enough for her to move quickly.

 Though I may have appeared to be calm, inside I was a nervous wreck. Yet it was Kelli who showed the panic, as she turned her head from side to side and scanned the back yard with her piercing eyes. She even tried to complain, the sounds muffled by the ballgag. It was easy for me to imagine how she felt at that moment, her eyes narrow and piercing, her breath shallow and excited, her breasts quickly rising and falling with each breath. It took total self-control not to turn back towards her, pick her up in my arms and carry her back into the condo with only one thing on my mind.

 As I stepped through the doorway, I had to tug on the leash to force her from the safety of the condo. I would find that similar tugs were often needed to prod her along on the path I had chosen. And slung over my shoulder was the strap of our toy bag, the items in it I was also sure were of mischievous interest to Kelli.

We went slowly, through that early morning hour, in part to keep Kelli from losing her balance in the heels and hobble, and also because I was enjoying the look of embarrassment and humiliation on Kelli's face, with the risk of being seen by any of the neighbors. My condo is not in a secluded forest; neither is it some elegant manor house far from neighbors. Even though the back door exits to the woods, when walking through the woods one would quickly come upon the fenced-in tennis courts. It is along that pathway that there was the real threat of coming across another resident, out for a late night (or early morning) walk, or condo security. And it was along that path that I led the near nude Kelli. 

As we came to the fence surrounding the tennis courts, I released her cuffed wrists from the collar, and before she could object, quickly attached them in front with the metal clasps and then, just as quickly lifting her arms, fastened them above her head to the chain-link fence. Kneeling in front of Kelli, my eyes taking in here body as they lowered, I removed the hobble chain between her ankles, and with some teasing and probing of the soft and now warm spot between her legs, convinced Kelli to spread her legs wide, reattaching the leather ankle cuffs to the fence. My precious Kelli now stood with her back to the fence, nude except for the gag, cuffs and boots, faced me and awaited the unknown that would come next.

 As I wrapped the next toy, the black leather blindfold, around Kelli's eyes, I softly whispered, and reminded her, where she was and how easily she could have been discovered. I think it was that reminder that nearly pushed her over the edge for the first time, as she rubbed her sweet ass against the fence and began to moan from behind the gag. Her nostrils flared, as she began to breath, deeper and deeper. But this had only been the beginning.

 From the toy bag, I pulled out the the crop and, in the same flow of movement, ran it over Kelli's body. It was a toy with which Kelli had a love/hate relationship. She loved it when I used it on her body, the reaction that her body had to it, but she also hated those quick moments of pain. Without stopping, I lifted the crop and then snapped it against each breast, under the nipples. The third and fourth touch of the crop against her body followed quickly, one on each inner thigh. Continued snaps against her body on the front of each thigh left red strips that would keep her out of the leather mini-dress for the next week. The finals touches of the crop, again against her breasts, left more red marks, as if they pointed to Kelli's erect nipples.

 The sounds of the night, the crickets and other night animal sounds, now had been followed by the snap of the crop and the mix of whimpering and soft, yelping noises from Kelli. The bondage, her near nudity, the risk of being discovered, and the kiss of the crop all joined together as, again, she approached orgasm. The bulge between my legs, had Kelli been able to see it, would have told her of my similar desire. It was now time.

 The crop no longer in my hands, I pressed my body against Kelli's, the bulge firmly against her, between her legs, while my chest pressed against her firm, proud breasts. In one quick movement, I unstrapped the the leather gag, hearing that familiar popping sound as I pulled the rubber ball from her mouth, and replaced the ball with my parted lips. As I expected, Kelli's mouth and talented tongue devoured mine. The soft, moaning sounds from deep within her soul told me what she wanted, what she needed, what we both needed. At that moment, as I reached down to my jeans, and slid the zipper down on my jeans, I knew I would deny her no more.

 As my body pressed against hers, I knew that her butt, her firm ass, would show the marks from grinding against the chain-link fence. At that moment, neither of us worried about the noises, about attracting the interest of the neighbors or security, as our bodies exploded together. After what seemed like a lifetime of holding her, I released Kelli from the fence, and with her hands cuffed in front of her, led my beautiful lady, hopefully still unnoticed, back to the safety of my condo.

 It was later in the day, as I again strolled through the woods, this time enjoying my late-morning cup of coffee, that I saw Kelli. She said she was there to watch the others at the tennis courts. Yet I knew, as she studied the fence, that she was reliving what she would later admit to being one of the most sensual nights of her life. 

Chapter 4

The door to the room swung open. As the hostess---a local domme with a playroom that was beyond belief---stepped aside, I walked into the darkness. I had been summoned by a telephone call from her, told that it was of great importance to Kelli that I come to that playroom.

 Two sounds, a strange whirring noise and a soft familiar moan, stabbed through the pitch black room, quickly followed by the loud clang of the heavy metal door that closed behind me. Only then did the hostess switch on the light, a single bright spotlight that pierced the darkness and fell upon the room's sole occupant, my beautiful naked Kelli, blindfolded and gagged, and glistening with a sheen of sweat as she endured a bizarre form of bondage and discipline. The bulge between my legs was immediate, the moment that I saw her.

 "She came to me early this morning, almost in tears, and told me that this was what she needed," said the hostess, "As you can see, she is being punished. Punished for you." Those last three words made the bulge even larger. Punished for me, I thought. Such wonderful words. And indeed she was being punished.

 Kelli and I had been together, as I brought her into my world, for several months. During that short time, she never ceased to amaze, amuse and surprise me. Yet for the last few weeks, I sensed that something was troubling her, that her soul was not at peace. But what I saw today was not something I had ever expected.

 My sweet Kelli was tall, with long elegant legs, and a wild mane of thick, black hair that hung down to the middle of her back. And it would be an understatement to say that she had a spectacular figure. As I have said many times before, though she helped Mother Nature a bit, what she had done was take what she was given and made it better. And it was a good thing that she was in good shape, because her ordeal was without a doubt a strenuous one.

 She was perched on a modified exercise bike. Instead of a seat, she rode a dildo, a thick and knobbed dildo, lodged between her legs and deeply inside her. Her ankles , the daner's legs, were strapped to the pedals. Her wrists, held tight by leather straps, were drawn upwards towards the ceiling. A thick spring connected her wrists to a ring overhead. On her breasts she wore a set of tightly fastened nipple clamps, connected by thin wires to the handlebars of the bike. She was gagged, a mouth-filling red ballgag held tight with a single black leather strap, and blindfolded, the straps beneath her hair so that her head was encircled by her mane which flailed wildly from her exertions.

 Her breath was ragged as she pedalled furiously. I could see that as she did so, the dildo surged in and out of her as she bobbed up and down from the tension of the spring which pulled her upwards towards the ceiling. The handle bars did not move, so when she rose upwards, the lines to her nipples pulled on the clamps and her breasts. It seemed a nasty punishment, one that was without a doubt a wicked blend of pain and pleasure. Pain from the stretch and pull on her nipples; pleasure from the vigorous thrusting of the dildo. Little had I imagined how much more there was to her torment.

 The hostess and I stepped closer to Kelli, who had become aware of our entrance from the sound of the heavy door, but was far too preoccupied at that moment with her erotic torment to much care. As I stood next to her, I smelled the aroma of her sweat and perfume, and the smell of her many orgasms. Her nostrils flared as she pedalled, and occasionally she stiffened and wailed into her gag, whether from orgasm or some other sensation I knew not.

 The hostess smiled a wicked lustful smile. "If this were all Kelli had to cope with," she said, gesturing towards the raven-haired beauty riding the dildo bike and bobbing between the ceiling and the bike on which she was perched, "it would have been a most entertaining day for her. But there are several refinements that make her ordeal even more challenging" 

As we circled her and gazed upon her from behind, I saw a wire protruding from the between her butt cheeks. The hostess, who spoke with an evil grin, added "there is a metal dildo deep in Kelli's tight little ass. It's electrified. Not a strong current. Just a few volts, but enough to be a painful bite deep inside. Enough that she has no desire to feel it. She can cut the current off if she pedals fast enough to power up that tiny motor there that turns the spring switch for the shocker. If she stops pedaling or slows down, the spring turns the switch on and poor Kelli has a shocking experience."

 Just as he said that, Kelli stiffened from what must have been another orgasm. Her legs straightened as she arched towards the ceiling. Though the dildo was still lodged deep inside her, her upward thrust pulled her off it far enough that I could see it was very thick and covered with hard rubber nubs. Her nipples pulled hard against the clamps and the inflexible line that ran to the handlebars, and distorted her round, firm breasts. Her head dropped back between her arms, her panting breath stopped, and she moaned a deep, animal-like cry of satisfaction as she exploded with pleasure. Her ass twitched, then bucked and writhed, whether in an attempt to get more pleasure from the dildo, or reacting to the pain of the current that was now surging into her ass - or both - I could not know.

 "A glorious orgasm, Kelli," the hostess whispered into Kelli's ear, as Kelli pedaled again as the orgasm subsided, her head still back, her shiny black hair gliding across her naked, sweaty back. It was erotic beyond belief. And it was almost impossible for me to resist taking her down and having my way with her. But for whatever the reason, she had to complete her punishment. I knew I would have my time with her later. 

Kelli pedaled even more vigorously as the mechanism churned. Suddenly she began to grunt and moan, slowed a bit then surged forward, wiggled her ass, then pedalled a little faster, grunted again and slowed. She seemed almost out of control.

 "If she pedals too fast," the hostess explained, "she works the headlight generator, which is adapted to send the current down the line to her nipple clamps. It's also set so that there is a fine line between pedaling fast enough to cut he current to the ass dildo and so fast that she shocks her nipples. There's very little leeway. She has to find just the right speed to avoid both, and with the dildo throbbing away inside her, and all the other sensations attacking her body, it's almost impossible."

 I watched as Kelli rode the tormenting bike, punishing herself if she didn't hit and maintain the exact right speed. Sweat glistened on her soft skin. She bobbed up and down and shook her head as her breasts were stretched and then released and then stretched again. Her ass wiggled as the results of the many orgasms trickled down the dildo.

 The hostess walked over to a small table full of leather gear and other bondage toys, and returned with a leather cat-o-nine tails. "Her back is unobstructed," she said with that now familiar evil smile. "And she asked that, when you arrive, you add this to her punishment."

 She handed me the whip even as Kelli groaned and nodded her head, stiffened again as she stretched her breasts and shocked her ass. I was once again nearly in a trance as I gazed at her beauty and her suffering and even her obvious pleasure as she received this torment. If it was possible to enhance the erotic vision that had already aroused me to the point where I was on the verge of my own orgasm myself, I was ready to try.

 I stood behind my sweet, beautiful Kelli. When her body was rigid from her orgasm and her mind was lost in that world of pain and pleasure, I drew my arm back and, quickly and repeatedly, sent the nine leather thongs screaming towards the soft skin of her back, on the body that would once again, and soon, be mine.

 I never did find out the reason that Kelli sought the punishment. I never even asked.

story continues in Kelli

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