SubSpace: The Final Frontier OR Sex Toy Review of the Lover's Riding Crop

My boyfriend is a very sensuous person.

He is all about receiving and giving pleasure. He is not exactly submissive, nor is he dominant. He is both, in a way, we are both, and we like exchanging those roles back and forth until our fucking becomes a seamless interplay of roles. No one’s in charge, but we can both take the lead, and follow. I suspect this is how lots of folks who deem themselves “vanilla," play. And we incorporate kink into our whole love experiment and so activities, modes, dynamics can change on the drop of a hat. And sometimes we just kiss for twenty minutes in strange ways, seeing what our lips can do, biting each others tongues, finding that place where the mouth meets the cheek, the tease kiss. Kissing is the ultimate group effort in the practice of sweetness.

Last night, he used the Lover’s Riding Crop on me.



And it became very clear who was in charge.

I have some experience in
BDSM.

Getting flogged, spanked, caned, nipple clamped, slapped, punched, single-tailed.

But I’d never been cropped, as it were.

I got the Lover’s Riding Crop from Sex Toys a couple weeks ago, and just the other day, after fucking, I told my boyfriend.

“I got a riding crop that I have to review. Sometime, I want you to use it on me until I cry and then fuck me. Could you do that?”

A moment of silence.

“Yeah, I could!” he said, excitedly.

“Oh, good!” I said, back.

My boyfriend doesn’t really beat me up. I mean, he’s mean to my tits, because I really get wet, and love it, and he likes my tits, and likes giving me pleasure. But as far as just wailing on me until I lose control and go into la-la-land—we hadn’t really explored that. Until last night.

We’d already fucked once. After some brief snuggling, I showed him the Lover’s Riding Crop. It’s a sturdy designer crop with a lovely leather tip. It feels lovely in your hand, and is sort of effortless to use. In fact, when the whole episode was over, I’d asked him if he could have kept going on for a long time, and he said yes. Some things that one uses to smack others around with are heavy and take some force. With the Lover’s Riding Crop, one can put a rather small amount of force behind the thwack and elicit a big result. This would be his first time using a riding crop, so some experimentation would be necessary. And yummy.

He started by just tracing the riding crop lightly over my thighs and back, across my bum and shoulders, the sensation of cool leather both relaxing and titillating. I knew he was warming me up. Soon, he gave me a few good whacks on my buttocks, which stung. Quite a bit. And I’m not a big sting-girl. Historically, I’ve been more thudcentric, but there is something very nice about the riding crop—the concentrated area of sting. With a spanking using a hand or paddle, an entire area gets all burny very quickly. With the Lover’s Riding Crop, the sting begins in a small area, and slowly spreads out. He started cropping me rhythmically—from cheek to cheek, back and forth, quickly, and then he came down very hard with a THWACK. That sent me growling.

“Oh did you hear that sound that it made in the air?!” he said, excitedly, almost boyishly. “What a great sound!”

“No, I didn’t hear it,” I replied, briskly, getting a little pissed, which is what happens to me at the beginning. That sound was for him. That was part of HIS enjoyment.

Then he started cropping me on the back, my shoulders, the meaty, muscular parts of me. And godDAMN—did that hurt. He really started going at me and it was then that I started to sweat. One whack in particular made my body go stiff and I felt my cunt clench up. And that moment was the moment that I got bratty.

“Fuck. You,” I said, gritted teeth, suddenly angry that he was doing this. Why was I letting him do this? I am a strong girl. I am bigger than him.

And then he said the right thing.

He said the most dominant thing I’ve ever him say.

He laughed, a bit menacingly, and sweetly.

“Fuck me?” He said. “Ha. Fuck you.” And hit me harder.

It was fucking perfect.

I soon started crying. My pillow was wet with tears and snot. He would not let up. Then I wailed and he did, stop, briefly. And then he started again, and the tears turned into hysterical laughter which is when I know—I’ve gone bye-bye. Subspace. Here I come. I’m laughing. He’s laughing, and hitting me. We’re laughing together. I haven’t been there, so fully there, in quite some time. He could do anything to me in that moment with this riding crop, and I would let him. I never said stop. And he kept going. And then I asked him if he could hit my front. I got up and put his hands to my face.

“Feel all those tears. See how much I’ve been crying,” I said. I wanted him to know.

I lay on my back. And he used the Lover’s Riding Crop on my nipples. The fleshy part of my tits. My clit. Lightly, and then harder. My inner thighs, which stung like crazy. I started to cry again, and then laugh. And then I went still, hoping, praying that he’d shove his cock in me. I tilted my crotch up to him. And instead of fucking me, he ate my pussy, the sweetest way, a lovely tongue bath, light and slow and languid. It was delicious. I came. And then he started fucking me again. And then, well, forget it. I came two more times from him hitting my gspot over and over again.

And goddamn—was I LOUD.

When we were cuddling afterwards, I kept saying that. Oh my God, I was so LOUD, I was so LOUD, giggling and kissing.

“Did you like doing that?” I asked him.

“I did. Quite the power trip,” he said.

“I loved it,” I said. “Thank you for doing that for me. Thank you for stepping up.”

“When you said “Fuck you” to me,” he said. “That was really cool. If you ever got really filthy with me, talking like that, I could really, really…” He drifted off.

Janie’s mental note: be more vocal next time.

I know we’ll be using the Lover’s Riding Crop again.



From the looks of the marks all over my back and tits, my body won’t forget what he can do with this riding crop in his hand any time soon.