Whipping Post, Part One

In mid-December, we all went to a play party. It was the first time I’d gone to a play party without Sir.

The evening started out pretty tame. Saltine, Pup, one of Saltine’s friends and I arrived at the party after hanging around at Pup’s place for a little bit, and a friend of mine who had previously said she was too shy to go showed up anyway. 

I congratulated her for being super brave. In addition to just being an awesome thing for her to face her fears and show up at the party, it made me feel good about being there myself. I was a little anxious about being there without Sir, as well as being nervous about being there with Saltine. I am an absolute anxious perfectionist, so the idea of us not really wanting to play together and also not really knowing how to divvy up the time left me a little on edge. It’s the kind of thing were I just want everything to be perfect and everybody to be happy and Jesus nobody wants to make firm plans.

Pup came over and told me that he wanted to play with me. I was feeling a little bratty, so I spent a some time avoiding it by running off to grab a drink or talk to someone. But, somewhere in the middle of talking my friend, Pup came over, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me off to the back of the party. 

The back area was partitioned off into two rows of little semi-private play areas, separated by curtains through which one could easily see silhouettes of the people behind them. The area he took me to was right near the front of the row, such that the party could see us through the curtains. Inside was a small raised platform, and atop the platform was a long, wooden post. The entire apparatus faced a mirrored wall.

Pup moved me up onto the platform and guided my hands to hold onto the post. He slid my legs apart by easing his feet between mine. For a moment, he stood pressing his weight against me, pinning me against the post. It’s a move he’d pulled before, when we were out on our second date and we were playing pool. That time, it was under the auspices of helping me to play, but I understood the intention behind it both that time and this one. It’s a power play, a move to demonstrate the differences in both height and strength, a way to say that he can overpower me. It’s also more or less a way to grind his cock against me.

Gathering up a length of rope, he arranged my hands further up the post and tied them there by threading the rope through a loop at the top of the post. 

“Am I in trouble?” I asked as he set to pushing my feet further apart. There were two more metal loops on the platform, and he was already tying two lengths of rope around my ankles.

He chuckled and shook his head. “What do you think, princess?” He’d been in the habit of calling me that then, always condescendingly, always in such a way that I protested being called it. He tied off the ropes and my legs were stuck spread almost uncomfortably wide. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

Pup rose up to his feet and sunk his fingers into my hair. He tugged back so hard, so suddenly that the memory of watching it happen in the mirror in front of me – of seeing it all too quickly before all the saw was the ceiling – is still as vivid as ever.