I breathed deeply, relaxing my body as best I could. My muscles let go on command. I knew that this was important to my enjoyment of the experience, tensing against the opposing force of the flogger would only make it hurt more as time progressed.
I was in my favorite place to be at this monthly gathering of the BDSM community, the dungeon. I looked forward to entering it every month. It was in the middle of the gathering really, barely sheltered by posts, anyone could simple look over or walk up and see what was going on. I was cuffed by my wrists to the flogging table, my feet firmly on the ground, arms stretched out before me. I could feel the leather of the padded table pressing against my hips, holding me firmly in place. I could smell the leather, the sweat and hear the cries of those nearby as I waited in anticipation.
The first fall of the lashes was always shocking, but if you adjusted quickly, a rhythm would soon follow. Predictable, you could count on it, falling over you as waves of warmth spread over your back, through your body. The force of each thud resounding through my frame as if I were now nothing but a small piece of the whole, at peace, my mind finally quieted. Yes, I loved a good flogging and I had a favorite flogger, 50 lash oiled Italian leather. Some feared it, I longed for it like a long time lover who would visit only occasionally but from whom such untold bliss might be found, if only for a moment.
I could hear him behind me, speaking to a female Dom who we both knew, she was chuckling. He stepped closer and the first stroke fell, cascading over my back. My body wanted to fight, to tense, I ordered them not to, breathing deeply of the leather and letting my mind float away with each fall of the leather lashes. Soon, I was wet, my thighs growing slick as my back warmed and softened with each blow. I heard myself moan with pleasure but I floated off above my body, rejoicing in each blow.
I felt my hair grasped, a female voice in my ear, "Can you take more?". It occurred to me that it had been some time though I could not tell how much, the blows came faster now. They changed in rhythm, it was no longer him, his arm had tired. I fell into the new rhythm easily as time sauntered on. I felt his hand on my soaked pussy, his fingers climbing inside me and then away as I, lost in the sensations, floated helplessly in bliss. The strokes doubled, one then a second, there were two floggers going now in a serpentine fashion, drawing figure eights over my small form, it felt wonderful. My body, left behind, felt nothing but pleasure now. What happened to it was of little matter me now, I was free, floating and lost in pleasure.
It stopped a few times, momentarily, I heard a voice I knew, a dungeon Master, asking if I wanted them to stop. "Stop?" I thought, I really had no idea why they should stop. I was detached, I was floating freely, how long had it been? I had no idea. I trusted my Master. I heard myself moan no and the night continued on.
I was dimly aware at some point of being brought home. It was not until I woke that I realized what had happened as I crawled across the floor. I could not stand to walk, pain seered through every part of my body even as I crawled, fingers moving over the cool tile. I lay against it for a moment, thinking. How could I have not felt this happening? But, I did, I had felt it in all of its glorious pleasure. I dropped against the cool floor, pressing my cheek to it, letting my body cool. I had never thought myself a masochist of any sorts. Who doesn't love a good flogging, but I, I took it to a new level didn't I? I breathed in the cool air. I am the marquis de sade's wet dream, I thought. So lost in the pleasure of the pain that I would not even beg him to stop. Fear rushed through me. My Master had thought nothing of pushing me to the point to which I was injured. What could become of me? Trust, now broken, a sacred truth between us, staring me straight in the face. I must heal now, I thought, and I must find one who understands me for what I am, for what I now know I am. One I can trust to not injure me, to know when to stop.
I realized now that I had no use for safe words. I would not use them for I could not. I had sunk deeper into these pleasures than I knew possible and that had changed everything. A simple truth that I had dared to not even know, pain was pleasure for my tortured mind and now, I could not merely play on the edges with the inexperienced for I was something deeper, something that clung to the deepest pleasures of another and rejoiced in it, regardless what might happen to me. Something that loved to serve, loved every touch, harsh or kind, drew pleasure from the depths of plain. I breathed deeply knowing that this was only the start.
-------------------------------------------------------------
This material and writing is copyrighted. Any reproduction of it in part or in it's entirety without my express permission is prohibited.
Lady Stromfield
I was in my favorite place to be at this monthly gathering of the BDSM community, the dungeon. I looked forward to entering it every month. It was in the middle of the gathering really, barely sheltered by posts, anyone could simple look over or walk up and see what was going on. I was cuffed by my wrists to the flogging table, my feet firmly on the ground, arms stretched out before me. I could feel the leather of the padded table pressing against my hips, holding me firmly in place. I could smell the leather, the sweat and hear the cries of those nearby as I waited in anticipation.
The first fall of the lashes was always shocking, but if you adjusted quickly, a rhythm would soon follow. Predictable, you could count on it, falling over you as waves of warmth spread over your back, through your body. The force of each thud resounding through my frame as if I were now nothing but a small piece of the whole, at peace, my mind finally quieted. Yes, I loved a good flogging and I had a favorite flogger, 50 lash oiled Italian leather. Some feared it, I longed for it like a long time lover who would visit only occasionally but from whom such untold bliss might be found, if only for a moment.
I could hear him behind me, speaking to a female Dom who we both knew, she was chuckling. He stepped closer and the first stroke fell, cascading over my back. My body wanted to fight, to tense, I ordered them not to, breathing deeply of the leather and letting my mind float away with each fall of the leather lashes. Soon, I was wet, my thighs growing slick as my back warmed and softened with each blow. I heard myself moan with pleasure but I floated off above my body, rejoicing in each blow.
I felt my hair grasped, a female voice in my ear, "Can you take more?". It occurred to me that it had been some time though I could not tell how much, the blows came faster now. They changed in rhythm, it was no longer him, his arm had tired. I fell into the new rhythm easily as time sauntered on. I felt his hand on my soaked pussy, his fingers climbing inside me and then away as I, lost in the sensations, floated helplessly in bliss. The strokes doubled, one then a second, there were two floggers going now in a serpentine fashion, drawing figure eights over my small form, it felt wonderful. My body, left behind, felt nothing but pleasure now. What happened to it was of little matter me now, I was free, floating and lost in pleasure.
It stopped a few times, momentarily, I heard a voice I knew, a dungeon Master, asking if I wanted them to stop. "Stop?" I thought, I really had no idea why they should stop. I was detached, I was floating freely, how long had it been? I had no idea. I trusted my Master. I heard myself moan no and the night continued on.
I was dimly aware at some point of being brought home. It was not until I woke that I realized what had happened as I crawled across the floor. I could not stand to walk, pain seered through every part of my body even as I crawled, fingers moving over the cool tile. I lay against it for a moment, thinking. How could I have not felt this happening? But, I did, I had felt it in all of its glorious pleasure. I dropped against the cool floor, pressing my cheek to it, letting my body cool. I had never thought myself a masochist of any sorts. Who doesn't love a good flogging, but I, I took it to a new level didn't I? I breathed in the cool air. I am the marquis de sade's wet dream, I thought. So lost in the pleasure of the pain that I would not even beg him to stop. Fear rushed through me. My Master had thought nothing of pushing me to the point to which I was injured. What could become of me? Trust, now broken, a sacred truth between us, staring me straight in the face. I must heal now, I thought, and I must find one who understands me for what I am, for what I now know I am. One I can trust to not injure me, to know when to stop.
I realized now that I had no use for safe words. I would not use them for I could not. I had sunk deeper into these pleasures than I knew possible and that had changed everything. A simple truth that I had dared to not even know, pain was pleasure for my tortured mind and now, I could not merely play on the edges with the inexperienced for I was something deeper, something that clung to the deepest pleasures of another and rejoiced in it, regardless what might happen to me. Something that loved to serve, loved every touch, harsh or kind, drew pleasure from the depths of plain. I breathed deeply knowing that this was only the start.
-------------------------------------------------------------
This material and writing is copyrighted. Any reproduction of it in part or in it's entirety without my express permission is prohibited.
Lady Stromfield
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