The Truth about the New Flogger

The Truth about the New Flogger The Truth about the New Flogger

Status: Finished

Genre: True Confessions

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: True Confessions

Summary

Master meets with His sub to wield the new flogger.

Summary

Master meets with His sub to wield the new flogger.

Content

Submitted: August 05, 2018

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Content

Submitted: August 05, 2018

A A A

A A A


Master has asked me to write an account of what having the new flogger used on me was really like. Honestly it was pretty close in many respects to what I’d imagined.

 

He opened the box and folded back the edge, then asked if I wanted a peek. I, rather stupidly,  said, “I thought you told me I wouldn’t be allowed…..?”  Yeah, sometimes my mouth works without direct brain control. I certainly was not trying to be disrespectful, but I don’t always process it well when He throws me a curve.

 

He directed me to stand in front of Him, feet apart, hands up behind my head, eyes covered by a blindfold. I could hear the rustling of the packing material as Master pulled the flogger from the box. And then He laughed, and said I should be afraid,  referring to the much heftier size of this flogger compared to my old one.

 

I was afraid; but I was more intrigued and curious and expectant. I knew what my old flogger feels like when He wields it, how it stings when it strikes me, how it almost tickles when He trails it over my skin. I was ready to step up to a more serious implement. Or as ready as I felt I could be when facing something I hadn’t experienced before.

 

The first touch of the flogger felt like a caress, as Master directed the falls to trail softly over my chest and shoulders. I could smell the leather – He held it to my nose so I could inhale deeply – and I shivered just a bit in anticipation and nervousness. I’ve said it before, I’m not big into pain, but I knew I was about to get some.

 

The first strike connected with a solid thump, and I rocked back on my heels a bit. It didn’t exactly hurt, there wasn’t a sharp biting sting, but it was solid and real and so much heavier. As more blows landed across my chest and stomach and hips, I sometimes got that bite of sting, and I hunched in on myself in an instinctive but futile attempt at self-protection. But then a few of the tails caught me on the chin, and I straightened back up and tipped my head back as the thought flashed through my mind – No marks on my face!!

 

After a couple more blows to my stomach and hips, Master stops, and tells me to turn around and walk forward. I hold my arms out in front of me, and when I reach the wall, I stop, bracing my hands against it and leaning forward slightly. He then strikes me with the flogger, on my back, may ass, around my hips. I feel my body rocking with the force of each blow, the flogger landing with solid thuds and thumps and some sting, but it doesn’t feel truly painful until He snaps the flogger at the back of my neck. Goddamn, that hurt!

 

He’s figured out how this flogger works, now, and each blow is harder, snaps more sharply, and it hurts. When He angles it so that the falls curl around and snap the softness in front of my hips, Oh, god, that’s when the pain really sets in. Once I cross that threshold, everything hurts, and tears leak from my eyes under the blindfold. He stops, and asks if I’ve had enough. I shake my head, and ask for two more, which He gives me. I ask for another two, and He delivers. I ask again for two more, and He gives them, and they are so strong, my knees waver.  I don’t know how long I stand there, back bowed, but eventually He relents, and tells me to step backward. I comply, sniffling, until my knees touch the bed, and He has me lie down with my knees bent but wide open, feet on the bed.

 

He takes the blindfold off, and I blink in the sudden brightness. Meeting His eyes, I can’t help but smile. The pain is fading, no skin has been broken, and now the satisfaction of making it through has me glowing, I swear. 

 

“She likes it,” He said.“I do like it,” I echoed.  He asks how it feels so I tell Him – the solid thud, the tips and edges of the falls which deliver that stinging feeling, the cumulative hurt when He flogs the same area in succession, how I didn’t want to cry but couldn’t stop myself. He held the flogger to my nose, again, and I inhaled the scent of fresh leather, again, closing my eyes and smiling.

 

He trails the falls down my body, and it’s not even close to the light tickling sensation I get with the old, smaller flogger – this is heavier, weightier, still soft, but I can definitely tell the difference. He smacks my sensitive pussy with it, over and over, and I squirm and yelp because it really does sting there, but it also make me wet, and I’m torn between the sting on sensitive flesh and the throbbing deep in my core which is building into desire. He presses the flogger against me, rubs me with it, and then allows me to cum, which feels so, so good in that moment. I lie panting afterward, while He continues to tease me with it, rubbing it against me while telling me to cum for Him again. I’m trying, but His light pressure isn’t enough, so I arch up, trying to grind against the flogger, seeking the friction and the pressure I need. His voice is in my ear, the flogger sliding against my clit, and finally I crest again, as ordered, cumming with a quiet cry and instinctively squeezing my thighs together.

 

After allowing me a few minutes to recover, Master tells me to stand up again, and I stagger on shaky legs into position, my hands up behind my head again. When I look down at myself, I can see reddened skin and a few raised welts, but no bruising – which actually disappoints me a little bit; I feel like my bruises are badges of honor, where I’ve survived what Master has dished out to me. But looking at the red marks dotting my flesh, I can’t help but smile; I liked that. A lot. Master laughs at me, but not in a mean way.

 

He holds up both floggers, my new heavier black and my old small red, and asks me to choose which I want to be bruised with. I choose the old one, because I know exactly how it works and how quickly it marks me. Master accepts my choice and strikes my chest, painting bruises onto my breasts, and this is what I wanted AND what I hate, because to get those beautiful bruises, I have to endure pain. He strikes me sharply, again, and again, and before He’s finished I am crying. I’ve never gotten the knack of transcending the pain, I live through every second of it, and my God, it’s terrible. Awful. In my mind I’m screaming for Him to stop, stop, STOP, but of course He doesn’t until He is satisfied.  When He finally drops the flogger, I take a deep breath and look down. There are purpling streaks appearing in front of my eyes, and deep spots of dark blue. These are going to last me a while, and despite the hot pain, I smile.

 

Then He picks up the new heavy flogger, and tells me to hold up my breasts. Swallowing hard, I cup my hands under the fleshy, tender mounds, and lift them up. He smacks them alternately with the flogger, beating down on already bruised and hurting flesh,  and if I thought I was hurting before – holy shit, this is beyond pain. Tears stream from my eyes, my nose runs, and I flinch with each strike. Then He commands me to count, and I’m pretty sure by the time I reach 10 I’ll be on the floor, but I dutifully begin.

 

Thwack!  “One.” Sniffle.

Smack! “Two.” And on it goes. My voice wobbles on “Six,” and breaks in the middle of “Eight,” but finally, mercifully, I count “Ten,” and He stops. I stand there, crying, holding my breasts and trembling, and He tells me to look at Him.

 

“Do you hate Me?” He asks. Frankly I’m almost shocked that He would ask. I’ve told Him previously there are times when I swear at Him in my head, but no, I don’t hate Him.

 

“Are you mad at Me?” he asks again. And no, I say; I’m not mad. And I’m not – I asked for this. I survived it, I made it through, I didn’t tap out, and I’m still standing; tears roll down my face, my nose is clogged from crying, but I’m still standing.

 

“And this is why I’m sure you will come through anything I ask of you,” He says. He allows me to relax, then, and when I ask, He lets me go blow my nose and pull myself together. We move on to other things, a more relaxed atmosphere, and believe it or not, but before we part, I ask Him to flog my ass again. I want the feel of the flogger, the sting, the heat, to be with me for the ride home. And amazingly, He does. And I do feel it almost all the way home.

 

And those bruises, the ones I paid so dearly for? They lasted well over a week.  :)


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