The floggers were waiting at the ready on a side table, but I had to touch him before we began.
I ran my hands through his dark hair, stroked his neck, traced the lines of those wonderful wide shoulders, kneaded the muscles of his back and felt them melt under my touch. My hands squeezed his bottom cheeks. He gasped. The gasp turned into a moan as I reached around to cup him in my palm. The leather cage he wore could not hide his readiness.
Soon, soon we would have to start, but for just a moment more my hands lingered on his skin, reveling in his hard, smooth flesh. I felt greedy, gobbling up every inch of him I could reach.
Then the music changed, he shifted his weight a bit and sighed. He was ready. I picked up the elk hide flogger and we began.
It was not a brutal flogging, but it was a long one. We had planned for half an hour. It ended up lasting almost twice that time.
The white elk hide tickled and teased, warming his skin to the lightest possible shade of pink. I moved slowly, striking his back, butt, thighs and even up between his legs.
It was a slow dance, a love making of pleasurable pain.
We changed whips several times, from the elk to a special flogger made from paracord, from the paracord to purple silicone, from the silicone to pebbled leather and from leather to heavy duty rubber. Each whip was heavier than the last. With each change the blows got harder, the fell faster, and each whip was used for a longer time.
Then came the delightful surprise, the memory that will make me smile for the rest of my life.
Before we'd begun I'd laid my entire whip collection out for him to see, 17 assorted cats, floggers, quirts and single tails in all. I then showed him the 6 from the collection I had chosen for the scene.
I'd told him he could pick a whip to add to my selections if he wished. He looked at down at the remaining whips, both eager and apprehensive. He chose the single tail, but his eyes kept flicking back to the quirt. I smiled and added it to the pile along with the single tail.
He paused a moment then told me honestly that as much as he'd enjoyed other things we'd done with that quirt he didn't know if he'd like it on his back. I told him I was fairly certain I could make sure he liked it.
And he did.
It was a glorious sight, his back and ass thrust out as the tips of the quirt flicked back and forth like a snake's tongue across his skin.
I used the single tail the same way, gently flicking it back and forth over his back, ass, and thighs, leaving pretty red stripes in it's wake.
There's no denying it. Stripes are sexy. One part of me was realizing that I was getting very turned on. The rest of me was lost in the scene, and him, enjoying the silent dance, riling him up, soothing him back down, taking him back and forth from peak to dizzying peak.
All too soon it was time to come back down. I took up the hair flogger and began, flapping it against his back, fanning the hot skin as much as whipping it. Slowly his muscles relaxed under the gentle brushing
I traded the whip for the lotion bottle. He was red and welted but there was no skin broken.* His flesh almost sizzled under my hands it was so hot.
The aftercare was tender, my touches and his both gentle and erotic.
It had been a very good day.
~Lady Koregan
(*Forget what you have seen in the movies, or hard core porn, a good whipping need not lead to bloodshed. In fact for the safety of the bottom and the rug he or she is standing on, it is usually best if it doesn't. Welts are fine, but cuts are nasty.)
