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This is my first version of "This Moment, This Day" and a more play by play journey version of this particular afternoon. I was not happy with the lack of emotion shared so decided to re-write, but thought I would share this here as well.

Afternoon Playtoy

I opened all the blinds in the room, anxiously looking out the window for Johnny. Our previous plans to meet had always somehow been ending up being canceled last minute by conflicts, and although I had no reason to believe he wasn't coming, somehow I was sure that something would come up. It was just my luck. We had plans to spend the afternoon in a motel room, introducing me to bondage, exploring my submission and pushing some of my limits. We had talked at length about what we wanted to try, and I paced the room nervously, images of myself as an afternoon playtoy filling my mind.

Finally I saw his van pull in and my heart skipped a beat. I was nervous, anxious, excited, and a tad bit apprehensive. It had been awhile since I felt like this. Flustered, I went up to greet him, grabbing my bag, locking the front door and jumping into the van. I wondered if he could tell how nervous I was. Wondered if he could tell how aroused I was. We had met before, and spent many hours talking online. He was very generous in his questions, getting a feel for my limits and desires, and graciously tailoring his plans around what I most wanted to explore, and at the same time making me feel so submissive, so controlled. I loved this about him, and my nerves started to settle as we drove to the motel.

We settled on one of those cheap $30/night motels where the rooms are side by side. I smiled to myself as Johnny went to check in, a shiver running through me at the thrill of what was about to happen. The room was very small, but clean and private, but as luck would have it, they put us right by the office. I figured I'm not much of a screamer so we'd manage. We unpacked our bags and I changed into my little black babydoll nighty, the lace stretching across my small breasts and the opaque full skirt falling midway down my thighs. I wasn't ready to be completely nude with someone, and the thin modesty of the nighty offered me the comfort I needed without hindering his access. Right away he pulled me over his lap for a handspanking. My hair fell into my face as my body squirmed slightly over his bare lap, his hand raining down on my pale bottom. I felt myself relax and savor the attention, groaning a bit when he stopped. I could have stayed like that forever. Partially because it felt so nice...and partially because I was still apprehensive of what was to come.

We do not have a sexual relationship, but I enjoy pleasuring him as much as he pleasures me. He motioned for me to get off his lap and kneel before him, his smoothly shaved cock in his hand as he ordered me to suck him. I obliged, taking his semi soft length into my mouth and sucking eagerly, feeling him harden almost instantly as my hands snaked up to pinch and tug at his nipples. He has very prominent and sensitive nipples, and each pinch or tug would be rewarded with a grunt of pleasure as I suckled on his manhood. He let me work for awhile, relaxing into my pleasuring, then wrapped his hands in my hair, pulling my head back and ordering me to stand up. I stood up with shaking knees, my wide eyes locked on him. I must have looked like a deer in the headlights, wanting to bolt but captured in the moment, too unsure to move yet my mind screaming at me to stop this before it was too late.

We had talked about bondage a lot, something I've never really tried. I was pretty leery because I HATE being in a position where I can't hear; being bound over something takes away my sight, therefore my hearing. But I trusted him despite my apprehension and he was aware of my fears. Johnny had warned me to keep my legs as far apart as I could anytime I was standing or kneeling, so I pushed my legs apart with a slight blush, watching as he cut two long, even lengths of a stiff thin rope. He stood before me, wrapping the first loop around my left breast, and I bit my lip hard to keep from protesting. I couldn't stand the look of bound breasts and wanted badly to say "no"...but I trusted him, and knew he was aware that I wasn't keen on the idea.. Mild curiosity at the sensations that went with the procedure kept me still as he bound them, and it didn't take long for the slightest touch to become increasingly painful and pleasurable at the same time.

Johnny pulled out a strange contraption that took me a few moments to recognize, and I felt that familiar rush of trepidation as his intentions became clear. It was a hand held vacuum pump, a long tube snaking from the gun-like handle. I little gauge winked menacingly at me as he tweaked at my nipples. He placed the tube first over one nipple, than the other, forming them into hard, throbbing nubs. Clothespins soon dangled from my nipples, bringing a gasp from my lips at the heightened sensitivity of them. The wetness forming between my thighs betrayed me, and I squirmed and yelped as he flicked and twisted at the clips, watching my reactions closely.

Johnny got out another couple of lengths of a thicker, softer rope, taking my wrists and looping the lengths around my wrists firmly, four rows of white silken rope forming an effective cuff around each wrist as I fidgeted before him, my breasts jiggling slightly. He left two ends dangling menacingly and led me over to the table, pulling it away from the wall as I watched, my heart hammering in my chest, my mind screaming at me with doubts. My curiosity was stronger than my fears however, and I obediently lay across the table, wincing as my bound but now unclipped breasts flattened against the table. He secured my arms to the table legs and spread my legs with a wide spreader bar, leaving me bound, exposed and helpless. I wiggled, testing my bounds, letting my mind sink into the feeling of helplessness and the thrills that came with it. He spanked and flogged my bottom as I wiggled and squirmed against the bindings, proving to myself I really was completely at his mercy. The thought was starting to excite me rather than scare me.

I heard the slight ripe of the duct tape and felt my face flush suddenly with humiliation. We had talked about this too, so I was prepared for what was coming. He tucked one end of the tape into my asscheek and pulled the tape taunt, securing it to the table. The other side followed, and soon I was not only bound down, but extremely exposed, my asscheeks taped wide open for him. I was glad I could not see him right then, I'm sure my face was beet red. The humiliation of being so exposed, so helpless, was doing amazing things to my body, I was so aware of every touch, every move. A cool dab of KY slid into my bottom, followed by the slow probing of a bead stick, spreading my asshole open and closed as each bead popped into the tightness of my rosebud. I moaned and tried to wiggle as the beads worked their way deep into my bottom, pulled out suddenly and swiftly to leave me empty again. A larger plug was worked into my now willing bottom, leaving me feeling full and slightly stretched. I felt so completely helpless and wanting as he continued to fill my ass and pussy with toys, stroking them in and out until I was moaning and panting with desire. He left me filled as he flogged me, and I felt torn between wanting desperately to arch my bottom up to meet the scratchy sting of the hemp flogger and wishing he would stop and probe me with the toys again.

All too soon the plugs and dildos were pulled out and my cheeks untaped, leaving me feeling suddenly empty and craving for more. Johnny untied me and ordered me to lay on my back on the table, and I complied, squirming into position and laying back as he rebound my arms, replacing the bar between my ankles and tying the bar up so my pussy and ass were once again exposed and open for him in a diaper position. The position was rather uncomfortable, and I worried about how long I would be able to stay like this. His fingers on my now soaking wet thighs distracted me from the thoughts and made me quiver, I wanted the touch so badly. I knew I wasn't allowed to orgasm, nor to even beg for permission to orgasm, and the struggle to not beg for release made me even hungrier for his touch.

Johnny slipped the tube of the vacuum pump over my clit, sucking the over sensitive little bud into the tube and releasing the pressure just as quickly. I groaned loudly, incredibly turned on by the intense feeling of such direct and shameless stimulation, unsure if I loved the feeling or hated it. He continued to spank and probe and pinch and flog my mound and thighs and breasts, warming my body up to a aching arousal, making me hunger for the sensation of pain.

The discomfort of the position took its toll before long and I begged to be taken down. He untied me swiftly, easing my panic. The rope cuffs had gotten rather uncomfortable, so he removed those as well, rubbing the braided indentations in my flesh until it was no longer sore. We found my suede cuffs and wrapped those around my wrists instead, the softness of the suede a welcome change.

He pulled a chair into the middle of the room and asked if I was ready for my paddling. I felt my face go pale as I nodded, not ready at all. I was to ask for this paddling as a punishment for procrastinating, and he had warned me it would be very hard. I kneeled on the chair as ordered with trembling knees, bending over the back as he clipped my cuffs to the rings he had put there, securing my legs to the arm of the chair and leaving me helpless, my bottom posed and at his mercy. First part was to be 20 with his oak paddle. Just the sight of this paddle was enough to make my bottom sting. It was huge, one swat would more than cover both my bottom cheeks.

The first swat landed suddenly, making me bite down hard on my lower lip to keep from crying out. The second and third followed swiftly, and by the forth and fifth I had swallowed my pride and let audible "ouches" escape my lips. He stopped at five, rubbing my flaming bottom briskly, waiting for my posture to relax again. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the next five, which seemed harder, faster, than the previous. I cried out with each swat, trying to focus on anything but the pain in my bottom, murmuring the counts almost to myself between gasps and whimpers. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he would reach five, rubbing my bottom and checking in to see if I was ok.

The next two sets were just as hard, just as fast, and all the more painful on my already sore bottom. When we finally reached 20, I was panting, my body tired from bending over, the cuffs keeping me in position. I had nearly forgotten about the second set with the lexan until I felt the first swat, biting back a howl of pain. The difference between the two paddles was very noticeable, the lexan having a sharp sting behind the force that felt like a dozen bees had developed a grudge with my poor bottom. The routine was the same; 5 hard strokes then a pause to rub and let me get control of myself. At the count of twenty, I felt tears tickling the corners of my eyes, my bottom well-paddled and sore. I unclipped my cuffs, sitting up as Johnny brushed my hair out of my flushed face, fighting the urge to rub. I sank to my knees in front of him, whispering a chastened "Thank you Sir" and taking his cock into my mouth until he pulled me off again. The paddling left me a bit shaky and feeling very submissive, and I was happy for the chance to show him how much I appreciated the punishment.

Johnny had been eyeing the coat rack by the door, and had me remove the hangers while he laced two luggage straps between the bars, positioning the rings so my cuffs could be clipped to the bars. He led me over and I put my arms up, clipping the cuffs to the rings and once again leaving me exposed and at his mercy. He pinched at my throbbing nipples, pulling my breasts up and slapping them soundly, ignoring my groans of protest. Various implements fell across my breasts and nipples, bring gasps and moans of pleasure and pain, causing the flood between my legs to dampen even more. He unclipped the cuffs and reclipped me to face the wall, ordering me to keep my bottom out for him. I bent awkwardly, sticking my bottom out for him, my legs still spread as wide as I could. I felt that lovely hemp flogger striking my bottom over and over, the scratchy strands leaving stinging lines of fire painted across my well-warmed bottom, and the viscous loops of the loopy johnny leaving burning ovals of pain on my bottom and thighs. I felt myself start to float into a welcome headspace, the constant flogging and sensations mixing together and making me groggy and shaky all over again.

I saw Johnny reach for the cane, and alarms went off in my head. I was very particular about who caned me, and unsure of his skill level with the cane. But I was drifting on such a high, ready to be pushed further, craving that lovely feeling of pure pain that the thin rattan can bring. He asked me quietly if I wanted to try the cane and I nodded slowly, asking for one hard stroke to start out with. He warned me it would be hard, and I closed my eyes and perched my bottom out to meet the stroke, my heart hammering with anticipation and dread.

The stroke was harsh and swift, landing precisely. I whimpered softly, wanting more, desperate for it. Ten more strokes, then more, I lost track of how many times the cane rushed to meet my willing flesh, but I was lost into the wonders of it, filled with a need to please him, to be allowed to show him how much I was willing to take for him. The feeling was unexpected, almost frightening with the suddenness of it.

Johnny laid the cane aside and ordered me to my knees in front of his chair, pushing my head back down to pleasure him, which I did gladly, my fingers occasionally remembering his preference to have me play with his nipples. I had barely gotten his cock into my mouth and he pulled my head off, asking me if I needed a reminder to play with his nipples when I sucked him. I blushed furiously, my heart racing as I murmured an apology, avoiding his stern gaze. He ordered me to put my hands behind my head, taking the loopy and asking me what I deserved. I hesitated, finally admitting I was naughty and needed to be punished, struggling for answers to his demands. It was so hard to answer, so hard to ask for a punishment and know he would follow through with it.

Ten strokes of the loopy across my aching breasts and the lesson was learned. I went down on him again, my fingers pinching and tugging at his nipples, desperate to please as I pulled his cock as far into my mouth as I could. He allowed me to suck for a bit, relaxing into my pleasurings and then pulling my head off of him, his eyes burning into me as he lectured and quizzed me. My answers didn't come swiftly, and his sharp orders to answer him made me flush and fidget as I struggled to find the words that were so simple, yet so hard to focus on. Yes Sir, naughty girls get punished. Yes Sir, I was a naughty slut and deserved to be punished. Please punish me Sir...

It was a submissive dance between pleasuring him and answering his demands as he told me he was going to punish my pussy next, informing me that I would need to keep my legs and lips spread open for him and urging me to agree that naughty girls that couldn't obey deserved to be punished harshly. He told me when I was ready, I would need to beg for it, beg to have my pussy punished and beg him to hurt me. I picked implements and positions and numbers at his demand, plucking my answers out of thin air as my mind swam with shame, humiliation, arousal and god knows what else. When my answers once again choked up, a stern threat of being sent to the corner quickly brought me back in focus. I felt so confused by these sudden desires, my face burning as he lectured yet craving those words, craving the feeling of being broken down and made to face my fears, to please him with the purity of my humiliation and lust.

Finally I was ready, perching on the edge of the bed and propping my legs up wide open on two chairs. He clipped two clothespins on each lip, bringing the long leather lacings attached to the pins across my legs for me to hold myself open for him. I fidgeted and watched him intently, my pussy aching for attention. He warned me again to keep my legs and lips spread open for him, taking the smooth rounded end of the crop and teasing my open lips, pressing the handle deep into my wetness and ordering me not to move while he went to the restroom. I laid there, blushing furiously with my lips spread wide open and the crop protruding from me like some odd ornament, fighting the urge to move. When he returned, he slowly pulled the crop out, pulling moans from me along with it. I was hot, aching, wanting to be touched so badly that even the most humiliating touches were welcome.

I had asked for four strokes with each of the four implements, the first and hardest being with the crop. He brought it down firmly on my pussy, the leather tip slapping against my clit. A sharp wave of intense pain and pleasure followed as I arched my hips up, desperate and dreading for more. He didn't use the implements hard enough to bruise or present any danger, but the pain was very focused and very pure. Next the loopy, then the cane, and finally the leather slapper; some strokes flicking cruelly against my clipped lips, some brushing across my exposed clit, and others striking my sensitive inner thighs. When the last of the leather slapper strokes landed, Johnny teased my now red and throbbing pussy with a tiny vibe, watching intently as I writhed and moaned on the bed, wanting to beg, to plead for the orgasm I knew I wouldn't get. I bit back the urge to ask, pleading silently with my gaze locked on his, seeing the warning in his eyes as I got closer and closer until he suddenly stopped, leaving me gasping and oh, so very turned on.

He removed the clips, causing me to suck my breath in sharply and flop back on the bed exhausted. I was allowed a short rest before he told me he wanted to try a new position and perched on the corner of the bed, motioning me over. He pulled me back almost as if to sit on his lap, and had me put my feet up around him and my hands down on the floor, leaving my asshole and pussy exposed to him. He used the rubber loopy on these sensitive areas, making me squirm and cry out, my bare flesh rubbing against his, tuning my arousal once again. When my arm couldn't support me anymore, I collapsed on the floor as he moved from the bed to a chair, ordering me to pleasure him with my mouth. I sucked him greedily, my own desires leaving me desperate for any sexual action.

It was getting close to time for us to pack up, so Johnny rewarded me by asked me what I wanted. I licked my lips and shyly asked for the cane, wanting to feel the sensations of my favorite implement leaving its mark across my sore and red bottom. Johnny asked how many I wanted, and I asked for 15 more with the cane, and 50 across his lap with his hand. He warned me again that they would be fast and hard, and I had to remain still for them. I promised I would, and lay across the bed, burying my head into a pillow and waiting, trembling, to feel the cane whipping across my bottom again.

15 hard, fast and precise strokes followed, barely a pause to register one before the next one landed. I gripped the pillow, sinking into the pain, letting the emotions and intensity of the last 4 hours carry me away into the blissfulness of subspace. After 15 strokes, he tossed the cane aside, sitting on the bed and motioning for me to take position over his lap. I complied, crawling across his lap and settling in as his hand rained down sharply, spank after swift spank over my cane-welted, well paddled bottom. I loved the closeness of this finale`, feeling very pampered as he spanked, despite the soreness.

He told me before the caning that I would finish him off after my hand spanking, so I grabbed the KY and poured a generous amount into my hand, smothering his cock in the cool gel and stroking, my free hand pinching his nipples as I curled up close to him. My mind was such a cloud of desire and foggy bliss from the sensations and emotions of the afternoon, mental and physical exhaustion overwhelming me, that I couldn't focus on pleasuring him. He took over and stroked himself to near orgasm while I played with his nipples absently, thinking how much I wanted to feel a cock filling my pussy and asshole, to feel those fingers on my clit, to be allowed the orgasm I so desperately wanted. It was torture in and of itself to not be able to touch, not be able to beg for his touch as my palm went back to stroking him, whimpering softly as he reached his orgasm, spurting his cum across his chest and grunting in pleasure.

I went to the restroom to clean up, yelping as the cool toilet seat met my hot bottom. My thighs were sticky with my need, my nipples and breasts were bruised and sore to touch. The cane welts throbbed as I ran my fingers over them, feeling the roughness the paddle had left behind and the welts of the cane. My pussy lips and asshole still ached in their emptiness, longing to be filled and pleasured. I wanted more, I could have gone on forever, being used and teased and pleasured and whipped and spanked and caned and played with to his desire. I felt like a plaything, a toy....a slut. I smiled as I examined my marks in the mirror. It was an afternoon to remember.

We got dressed, packed up our things and put the room back in order, with me happily adding the gift of the hemp flogger and a stiff leather flogger to my toybag. As I sat in the van waiting for Johnny to load the last of the bags and spreader bar, I noticed the motel manager and cleaning lady sitting by the pool watching us. Probably wondering about the strange sounds they had heard from the room, curious why we were repacking so soon, and perhaps pondering if I was Johnny's slut for the afternoon.

I felt my face flush at what they must think, humiliated at the realization that I HAD been a slut for the last few hours. His plaything.

Funny how the flush of arousal between my legs was just as deep as the flush to my cheeks must have been. It was definitely an afternoon to remember.