flogging

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The Party Sub, Part Four

While I was busy watching a girl getting a pretty thorough flogging on her back and ass, Sir had gotten my wrists cuffed behind my back and was still talking to the girl beside him. In the process of cuffing me, he had revealed that he had not only made the handcuffs, but that he had a whole arsenal of things that he had brought along that were homemade.

He set to showing off his floggers and crops, explaining what was what and how he’d gone about each. The girl was being really nice and super respectful, so I got brave and consented when she asked for a demonstration. However, I requested that we go to another room. 

Smirking, Sir grabbed a handful of my hair and walked me along that way through the party. I tried to act as casual as I could about this, but it was really pulling at my submissive thread and I felt myself starting to unravel. By the time we found a basically empty room and Sir had bent me over in front of a futon, the combination of the fact that I was going to be used as a demonstration with the cuffs and the way he had hauled my along by the hair, leaving me to make awkward eye contact with a few other guests, I was feeling fairly pliant.

He started with the flogger and, with this girl watching, I felt tempted to take more than I usually would. I wanted to make Sir proud and I was sure I stayed bent over, breathing deeply through my nose to keep myself centered.

“Could I try?” she asked and Sir turned to me.

I nodded and I felt her hand rest on my hip, tentatively. She swung the flogger and hit me squarely across my left asscheek. Looking to Sir for some sort of approval, I watched him grin as he stated that I really should be thanking her.

“Thank you,” I gasped out. It was kind of clear that the girl had significantly more chemistry with Sir, which made the whole thing a little awkward, but she was super sweet when she finished and thanked me for being such a good girl for her.

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Full Service, Part Five

Craftsmate slipped the tweezer clamps onto my nipples before picking up the flogger. He started to beat my thighs, stomach and chest in quick, sharp hits. However, I noticed that he was holding back a bit, carefully ensuring that he was not hitting me too hard.

Usually, I appreciated when he did this. I’m not much of a masochist. However, as subspaced as I was, I wanted more. I wanted to go deeper and I wanted it to really, genuinely hurt.

“Harder,” I gasped out. He looked a bit surprised, but he swung the flogger harder. I continued to beg, “harder, please, Sir, please…" 

Soon, he rolled me over onto my stomach. I squealed and winced as my clamped nipples pushed into the bed. The pressure sent a sharp, persistent pain through my breasts. 

"Ow,” I whined, squirming to try to find a better position. However, the hogtie left me very few options.

“Aww, it hurts?” He teased, attaching the clover clamps to my pussy lips. My breath caught as he gave a sharp tug to the clamps, forcing them to squeeze my labia tighter. He slipped the vibrator underneath me, lining it up with my clit and turning it on low. “Does that make it all better?”

I moaned, grinding up onto the vibrator, “uh huh.” I caught myself. “Yes, Sir.”

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Full Service, Part Four 

Once I had the panties stuffed into my mouth, Craftsmate ordered me to get down on my hands and knees, lower my chest to the floor and stick my ass in the air. Wordlessly, he picked up the flogger and started to beat my ass and back with it. 

I groaned around my panties, my toes clenching with each hit. He leaned down, gathering up the rope and moving me over to the bed. I laid down on my stomach and he took my wrists in his hand, starting to wind the rope around them.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered as he knotted off my wrists. “You get deeper when you do that, don’t you?”

I let my eyes close and allowed my body to relax as he tied each leg individually up to my wrists. That way, he could move the legs apart and fuck me easily when the time came.

When he finished tying my legs, my head was swimming and I could barely will my eyes open. Craftsmate sat at the edge of the bed, playing with my hair as he asked how I was feeling. I attempted to give him an answer, but I wound up mumbling into the panties instead.

“What’d you say, sweetheart?” He asked, pulling the panties out of my mouth.

“I want my vibrator,” I whined out, catching myself and repeating it, “please, Sir, I want my vibrator.”

He laughed, “not yet.” Still chuckling, he got up and went to fetch both pairs of nipple clamps, as well as the vibrator. When he returned to the side of the bed, he dropped the vibrator off to the side and rolled me over onto my back.

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I always want it to get that red, but I’m far too squirmy and sensitive to be able to sit through that many blows. I wish I were more of a masochist, but I like the marks much, much more than the pain.

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Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part Six

Craftsmate tied me facedown on his bed and proceeded to get his flogger out. He beat me until I was crying out so much that he had to gag me and put music on to drown out all the noise.

Then, he sat down on me and started to tickle my ribs. I am absurdly ticklish and I absolutely hate being tickled. A few minutes in, I was panting for breath and drooling around the gag. He stopped, moved his duvet cover so I could see the small puddle of my salvia that had soaked into it, and proceeded to scold me for drooling all over his bed.

“Look at the mess you made,” he chided, pulling on my hair before pushing my face into it. I blushed six shades of red.

He rolled me over and tied me back down, picking the flogger back up and starting to beat my breasts.

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Playdate with Popcorn, Part Eight 

Penthouse held me open as he let Popcorn flog my cunt. For the most part, I stayed still of my own volition, trying to affirm that I was the good girl she said I was. Amidst the gasping and bucking, I tried to keep my eyes on her. This left me so incredibly subspaced that I wound up slumping back over once Penthouse let me go.

“Can we use the zipper on your pussy?” Penthouse asked and I nodded, moaning softly.

They pushed me up onto my knees, with my head still resting on the bed and my ass and cunt exposed. Popcorn applied the clothespins over my labia and clit. I was a mess of moans and whimpers as they took turns trying to flog the clothespins off of my cunt.

“She’s such a good girl,” Popcorn echoed, “I can’t get over how well-behaved she is.”

Penthouse chuckled, “it’s only because you’re here. Usually it’s all ‘Daddy this’ and ‘Daddy that’." I felt myself blush.

By the time we had finished up, it was about four in the morning. Popcorn gave me a kiss and thanked me for allowing to play with her. After she left, Penthouse brought me some water and helped me into bed, curling up beside me. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, satisfied, and fell asleep to the sound of him telling me how proud he was.

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Chained, Part Six 

Popcorn and Penthouse bent me over the bed and took turns spanking and flogging me, making me yelp and squeal into my ballgag. I squirmed when they stroked the skin, blushing in response to their chuckles and little quips about how fun it was to do this to me.

“Do you want to get caned?” Penthouse asked me and I heard him rummaging for something.

I moaned, nodding and trying to look over my shoulder. I had never been caned before, but I couldn’t manage to crane my neck to a degree to fully see it beyond watching something long and brown swish through the air and collide with my ass.

Having seen other caning pictures and now seeing my own ass: guys, those pictures must’ve taken a fuckton of caning. And it must have HURT LIKE CRAZY.

But I liked it. I loved the stinging, I loved the way they rubbed over it afterwards, and I loved the way they cooed over how red it was.

“She’s a good girl,” Popcorn commented at one point.

Penthouse reached up and patted my hair, smoothing it off my face. I looked up and saw his grin. “Yeah,” he replied, “she is.”

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After the whole awkward walking through the kitchen debacle, Craftsmate wound up trying out a bunch of floggers on me while I was tied down on his bed, ballgagged, and blindfolded with one of his ties. (Yeah, yeah, I know. Casual.)

At one point, he took out his knife and ran it over the line of the back of my knee. It’s been a really long time since I’ve enjoyed any knifeplay and my hand squeezed into a hard fist around the bedsheets. I heard Craftsmate chuckle and realized I’m one of the most transparent people ever.

Last night, we tried it again. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard him flick it open. It’s a massively satisfying and anxiety-producing noise at the same time. He somehow was using it in a way that I was actually convinced he was cutting my arms, legs and stomach. He wasn’t, but I had gotten high with some people before then and marijuana always makes me really hypersensitive. 

At one point, he reached under my shirt, which had been rolled up under my breasts, and tucked the knife into my bra. “You need to hold still,” he said, “or you’ll hurt yourself and it’ll be all your fault.”

In other news, having a kinky friend is kiiiind of awesome.

Been There, Done That.

Chat

Craftsmate: I want to try out this new flogger on you.
Me: My only concern is marking up my thighs all over again.
Craftsmate: I mean, I could do it on your back or your ass.
Me: With the other people around? I don’t exactly want to show a bunch of strangers my ass.
Craftsmate: …
Craftsmate: thinkivykink.tumblr.com
Me: God, I hate you.