Sunday, October 21, 2012

A Whole Bunch of First Times Part One: Flogging




Just when I was getting to the point where I thought I’d have no more paragraphs, a whole bunch of stuff happened all at once.

I went to our usual dungeon last night, and it was the first time I went by myself. It felt strange—there’s a whole new level of slutty to standing around in shorty pajamas, no bra, and heels when nobody in particular is looking after you. I was a little worried that I was humiliating myself, but I knew I’d just have to stand there and talk to people if I was ever going to have hope of finding guys to play with.

I sort of had somebody in mind. He was the first guy to spank me in front of Sweetie—his ceramic-star cane is now my nemesis—and also part of the couple who helped Sweetie rescue me when I fainted the time before last. They are both a little younger than me and vaguely steampunk—I’ll call them Punk Rock Girl and Old-Timey Guy. I knew ITG was enough of an expert to make my first flogging experience meaningful—and it was!

I think I may have been a little overeager last night—next time, I think I’ll let people settle in a little more before I ask them to do stuff to me. Old-Timey Guy made fun of me for being impatient (okay, so I may have jumped up and down a little) but agreed, making it clear that it was a strictly demo situation. He gave me the nickname he likes to give subs—“Little One”—which in my case is adorable/hilarious because I am a big giant Amazon.

He started hooking up carabiners to the St. Andrew’s cross. There was already a couple playing on the other side of the cross, an adorable switchy couple I’m quite used to playing next to. (It made for some cute “I know how you feel” moments while chained face-to-face to the girl) Old-Timey Guy instructed Punk Rock Girl to put shackles on my ankles and wrists and get me attached to the cross.  She took a lot of care to make sure that my wrists were comfortable—“I can fix them now, but once he starts, it’s too late.” She got me all snug and settled in and then moved away so that OTG could take over.

He leaned against me and asked “Do you think I’m a bad man?”

I laughed but nodded empathically. The truth is, his face is fundamentally good natured—all beardy and trustworthy. He makes me feel all silly and innocent, plus he is often wearing a hat with a feather in it, but I was overjoyed to play along:

“Oh yes, very bad man.”

“Do you want me to do bad things to you?” More smiling and supercheery nodding.

The first implement he brought out was a pretty silver filigreed thing, shaped like a little tiny garden rake, but dainty and fancy. He said, “Now I’m just gonna warm you up.” He raked the little filigree thing over my back, my shoulders, my neck, my hair, the backs of my knees. It felt firm sometimes and tickly other times. He tickled me with his fingers, too. I never thought that I would like that, but I did. I loved all of the squealing and wiggling. The dungeon owner says ticklers are the hardest on his furniture, and I can see why. Very squirmy!

All the while, PRG was watching and assisting. She was the one who took my glasses off when I needed her to, and the one who told me to keep my head forward so that it’d be a little more safe.

OTG started flogging my back—he’d asked if I liked thing more thud-y or sting-y and this was as thud-y as I had requested. I relaxed against the cross in a semi-subby state until the thuds got a little harder and I had to brace against the pain a little. I gritted my teeth and balled up my fists, but I didn’t cry out or make the stop signal.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, but you could go a little, um, lower,” I said, wiggling my ass in his general direction.

“This looks like it can take some pain,” he said, and got started, first with the flogger, then with a strap thing that I really, really, REALLY loved. Rhythmically, one cheek, the other, I never wanted it to ever stop. But too soon, he leaned into me and said “My dear, you have now been flogged. Did you like it?”

“Ohmygoodnessyes.”

As a finale, he pulled down my undies and left a heart shaped marked on one side and a star-shaped mark on the other. It hurt like a sonofabitch.

I was sad that it was over, that there wasn’t an aftercare factor, but I hugged and thanked him and helped get PRG into her shackles for their real play. (Really, she helped me help her into her shackles.) It was melancholy feeling, but centered and very warm about the back and ass.

Next: Hello, suspension!

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