|June 2, 2013 at 3:21 pm #718715|
Two words: flogging, giggity.
I’ve been mildly curious about the activity for some time. I’ve seen it in film and read it in books with varying degrees of either violence or seduction. My only personal experience with the theme would be bottom slaps, and to my chagrin most of my partners tend to hold back. That, and once when I was a young woman of 22.
I had attended this after hours party in a mansion with a turret. At the top of a long spiral staircase there was this circular room with a panoramic view of the city. it was lined with cushions and draped fabrics… a bit of a Moroccan theme. The older gentleman (going to guess he was late 30s / mid 40s) who had offered to give me a tour started to turn his attention towards me… he was handsome enough for an “old guy” so I acquiesced. I found myself on all fours, my ass bare and him petting and praising me, then all of a sudden – WHACK! Out of no where he had pulled this black leather flogger. I had no warning and he was not gentle.
Huh. Even as a young woman I was strong enough to be un-phased by bad situations like that. I always knew that I was the one in control. I give enough of myself, I don’t let men take from me. He should have asked first. I got up, tugged down my skirt and walked out.
Early April was the first time I’d seen Mr. Prince perform. It was the same night that I had painted Ms PartnerInCrime so there was definitely more of a kink-playfulness int the air that night. I remember sitting back on one of the couches while my friends made out next to me. As I watched one after another, after another, women got up and spread themselves on the big wooden cross. Each woman was treated to a slightly different approach: Some women were spanked or paddled or caned… whatever her pleasure. Some were gently stroked while others got a solid CRACK of the whip, the sound resonating through the crowd with a chorus of oos and ahs.
“You should have a go,” Ms. PartnerInCrime suggested because I was obviously interested.
Over the next few weeks we said “Hi” in passing a couple times at the club, always just missing each other or finding ourselves otherwise engaged.
A Friday night at the club… It was just turning midnight when a young man tried to engage me. I was making politely disinterested conversation when Mr. Prince walked by. To get his attention I reached out and stroked his arm from shoulder to elbow, not an overly personal caress but obvious enough that It could not be mistaken for a casual bump in the crowd. He turned and when he recognized me, flashed a big grin. “Hey. Hopefully I’ll see you in the back… tonight.”
I do so love the nuances of communication. That almost imperceivable pause said so much. It wasn’t just a “maybe we’ll run into each other” statement. In that one nano-second he told me so much:
- – - – - – - – -
I opted to wear a pair of knee high sporty socks, black bra and thong. I kept my towel tucked around my waist as I sat and chatted with the other spectators that were there to watch Mr. Prince in action.
I was not the first woman up. A very tall, very thin but still very sexy woman stepped up first. She was treated to some light flogging and a couple surprise bottom slaps. It was obvious that they were friends and that there was some clowning around. It really helped to set the mood – this was play time. Nothing scary or sinister.
The room began to fill quickly as news of the show began to spread. I don’t know why but I liked that. Lots of people would be present for my first flogging. I was up next.
I stepped up onto the base of the cross, shuffled my feet apart (but not too wide) and leaned into the wood. Rather than reach up the length of the wooden beams, I laced my fingers in front of my face and braced my elbows on either side just above my shoulders.
Mr. Prince came around in front of me and spoke softly. “I’m going to start easy and gradually build. I’ll stop occasionally and ask what level you are at, 1 through 10.” “Ok,” I nodded.
I kind of remember some one saying something silly in an over the top showman’s voice, ” And now, for your viewing pleasure, please welcome to the stage for the first time… ” the crowd chuckled.
Mr. Prince started soft. Left, right, left, right… I was just being caressed by the leather tassels. It was nice. I relaxed. Rhythmic strokes landed on my upper rump. He paused to stroke my skin. Round 2 was slightly stronger but not by much. One woman called out, “common! You’re being too gentle. That’s not like you!”
“Well, it is her first time so we’ll get there eventually.”
Round 3 was definitely firmer but not hard. However, my skin was warming up from the repeated strokes. I noticed that the flogger had a bit more of an edge, the tips taking a little nip before sliding across my flesh. It made my toes flex. I mentioned that it definitely felt sharper on the right side. “That tends to happen. My right is the dominant hand,” said PA.
He used a soft chamois to sooth my skin. That was a very nice touch – I’m going to have to get me one of those. After the chamois, he used his hand – dragging his finger nails lightly over my skin and treating me to a few light bottom slaps. His hand did brush my lady parts cradled in the thong. When I had first watched him at work a couple months ago I had watched him offer couple of the women some more intimate personal massage. I wasn’t sure if it was part of the whole package or if those women were familiar. I think it might be more likely that he reads the responsiveness of a woman from one to the next.
He was on my right, caressing my rump when he asked me what level I was at. “6?” I guessed. My inner goddess (to steal a term from well known author, E. L. James) was squealing “no! It’s only a 4, maybe a 5… I want more!” My inner goddess is a silly, gluttonous bitch.
Round 4 started gently again and there was another comment about his going too easy on me. “I’m building up to it,” he said. I glanced over my shoulder and made a wise crack, “he certainly doesn’t accelerate at the same rate as a mechanical bull.” It was a vague reference but he got it because the next bit was more brisk and included some rhythmic swish, swish, swish of the flog as it flicked over my ass and up my back. I relaxed into it enjoying the massage. When Mr. Prince paused to engage the crowd again I joked, “it’s always been a bit of a fantasy of mine to go throughout a car wash.”
He chuckled, “I know, right?”
Before round 5 began he came around in front of me again and asked softly, “how are you? Are you comfortable with… everything so far?” There was that pause again. “Yes, I am,” I permitted.
He brought a couple more toys into play. A paddle – that was fun, a lot like a bottom slap but focused and firm. I felt my flesh ripple. He also had with him an electric fly swatter. It made me nervous. I didn’t relish the thought of electric shock but I braced myself for it anyway. There was some showmanship as he got the crowd into it, a bit of lead up before the first tap… ZAP! I jumped and my toes curled in response. Then I laughed. My heightened awareness with anticipation of pain had me on edge, but the reality was something else. The electric swatter has all the impact of being tapped with the eraser end of a pencil. The sparks are all for show.
Mr. Prince picked up the flogger again. He was being a lot more firm with it and the disproportionate strength of the bites on my right side as compared to the left were starting to become more apparent. My toes flexed and curled in response to the sting. I chuckled occasionally at my silliness and because that’s one of my pain responses.
He was more hands on about soothing my skin after, petting my ass and tracing my back before sliding his hand between my legs with more purpose. I couldn’t tell weather he was watching me or the audience, as this was still part of the act. He moved my panty aside, sliding his hand along my labia, parting them and then pressing a finger inside of me. I started to bear down on him but quickly realized that I was too close to an orgasm. There was no guarantee that it would happen but I was not taking the chance of squirting right there in front of everyone, not in this location. I clamped down on his finger instead, squeezing as he briskly, briefly finger-fucked me.
He moved my thong back into place and patted me on the ass as if to say, ‘You’re all done. Next.’ But I wasn’t. “Before I go, can I get a couple of really good smacks?”
He chuckled, “hand of paddle?”
“Mmmmm, your choice. But lower down, here,” I indicated the fleshier curve of my bottom. I relaxed into the cross and arched my back slightly to tip my bottom out. Mr. Prince opted for the paddle. Standing on my right, he tapped my ass a couple times with the paddle then WHACK! I giggled and swayed. He moved to my left and just to be cute he took a couple baseball style practice swings.
WHACK! only harder.
My knees buckled against the wood and I laughed outright. Why does something so clearly violent feel so damn good?
I hopped down so someone else could have a go. I reached back to touch my ass and was surprised. Oh my! It was hot! I imagine it was flaming red. I wrapped my towel around my waist and rubbed it back and forth to sooth my skin.
“Thank you,” I said. I don’t recall what he said after that. I did spend a bit more time watching another woman enjoying his attention while chatting with a couple on one of the couches.
It wasn’t long before an acquaintance found me and invited me to come play. I was ready. I was on fire in more ways than one. For a moment I did feel a little guilty as I recalled a conversation that I’d had with Mr. Prince in anticipation of this encounter. He’d said one of the things about being the ‘resident flogger’ that he didn’t like was how he put so much effort into revving women up only for them to head off to finish the night with someone else. But I knew he had his hands full.
- – - – - – - – -
At the end of the night Mr. Prince made a point of saying… good night.
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