A Flogging

I follow him barefoot into the room.

It is small, 11x12 room towards the back of his home. It is equipped with a cross in one corner, 6’ black lights along the left wall, and a black muslin backdrop that drapes to the floor. The “pleasure rack” as he affectionately refers to it, is a dark wooden shelf of hooks which proudly displays a large collection of floggers, canes, clamps, and other implements of pleasure,pain, and impact. After all, he is an Emotional Pleaser as well as a Physical Sadist.

I am told to undress. As he begins some warming up music, I begin to remove my black tank top and skirt. The bra and panties are black with the bright teal and purple lace running throughout. I wondered if he would notice the care I took in selecting something prettier than just a basic black. It seems he might have. I remove my jewelry, and I stand naked in front of him.

He makes no attempts to touch my body. I feel no shame when I am with him. I feel safe. I want him to hurt me.

He asks me to step closer to the cross, and I do. I follow all his commands with no hesitation. His black leather restraints are handmade, and covered on the inside with a soft material that allows the restraint to be maintained longer. He first attaches a cuff to my left wrists, then lifts my arm up to the clip attached to a piece of large yellow chain. The right wrists is next. He tells me to spread my legs and attaches ankle cuffs and hooks them to the same size chain at the bottom of the cross. A blindfold comes over my eyes. And darkness settles in. I calm, settle.

Lightly, I feel air brush past my skin. No contact, just swishes of current. Slowly, methodically, he beings to touch me with the tails. The flogging is light at first. The warm-up is important to my taking more. He has done this before to me. He is beginning to know me. What I can take. How I can take it.

Throughout the scene, the impact is harder. He uses thuddy and stingy intermittently. I start to anticipate his strikes and he knows and counters my actions. Soft light touches with non sequential blows blast onto my back and shoulders. The tails wrap around my sides a bit and sting against the sides of my breasts.

My hands show the processing of pain. I use the soft plane of the lacquered wood to run my hands against. My painted nails scratch at it, my arms extend towards the top, palms open as I begin to receive harder, more significant blows.

At 2 or 3 points in the scene, he will stop. His hands running across my skin, checking for my warmth, my response. He will pull me back towards him and expect a relaxed response that I trust the cross will hold my weight and he will not let me fall. I believe in both and let go against him. His hands are on my nipples, squeezing, but I do not feel them. His arm or hand is against my throat, tight, but not enough to cut off circulation or air. I wish he would. I long to feel him take the breath away from me, but he doesn’t. He asks what level of pain I am feeling 1-5, 5 being a level of pain I cannot take any longer. I respond with a 2. I am glad this pleases him. He releases his grip on me, adjusts my blindfold, and stands me up to the cross again.

As I take the hard blows that follow, I know now I am able to process what he gives me. I’m not feeling it any longer. I feel impact, not pain.

At some point, I know my arms no longer reach. I felt nothing, not even blows. My arms relaxed, my legs went weak but still held me up. I was not in subspace, I'm not willing to go there yet, I want to control when that happens. I was there, in the room, and my body just did not feel anything.

And this, was exactly what I wanted.

He released me soon after that. Carefully unhooking my wrists and ankles. He removed my blindfold and turned me towards him, holding me tightly. I snuggled my head against his chest, I didn’t want to open my eyes. And I asked for more.

He chuckled and turned me around to the Cross. He did not restrain me this time. Simply, picked up a larger thuddy flogger and began a short session of heavy impact blows that again, I could not feel, but processed as though it was a back rub. I wanted it to continue. But it didn’t.

He knows what is best and escorted me to a large pillow against the wall. I was wobbly as he helped me to the floor and my head slowly cleared as we chatted about how it felt and other small talk.

I began to put back on my clothes, my jewelry. We left the room. We talked for a bit at the kitchen table. He helped me on with my coat, and walked me to my car like a gentleman.

I smiled as I drove away. I could feel the impact points now. I know the lines will show in a couple of days. And I look forward to seeing them.