Part I (In case you missed it.)
For almost two hours He fed my masochist in increments. We'd find a play area, watch others for a few minutes, and then He'd set me up to be displayed and flogged.
With each session more people filled the club. Every piece of equipment had longer and longer lines of kinksters waiting to play. Every couple had a larger and larger audience. But most of all...with each session He pushed me a little harder.
We were in one of the bigger rooms. Several different couples were engaged in various S/m activities. An older man flogged an older woman in the corner outside the prison cell where sounds of flesh being struck occasionally echoed into the larger space. A woman lightly flogged a younger male as he leaned over a leather bound sawhorse. A naked male stood unmoving seemingly abandoned in the corner with his cock caged and a hood masking all but his eyes, nose, and mouth. Another couple engaged on the single sized wood bed frame sans mattress. Every age, size, race, gender, and sexual orientation were represented throughout the club. Once most of your clothes came off it was hard to tell class, and honestly, no one gave a shit. Your skills set and character mattered more here than the size of your wallet or your zip code.
I glanced at the various scenes around me, but none were intense enough to even registered on my erotic scale. After hours of near constant light S/m play, my body hummed for Him, my mind hovered above the ground for Him, and my submissive emotions flowed directly to Him. We were forging our bond and discovering more truths of one another. Actions/reactions proved our reality.
He was slowly breaking me in and testing my responses to His play. I understood and respected that well. It was logical. He hadn't let me cum, but neither had He pushed me again sexually like He had in that first scene.
We'd waited off to the side for equipment to open up for about ten minutes, when he said, "Turn around and face the wall."
There wasn't much room, but I obeyed curious what might come next. Just like He had every time He'd played with me, He shoved the bottom half of my tight dress up over my ass to my waist. His hand smacking my cheeks was my reward for obedience.
I arched my back for more. I'd yet to use my safe word. It was the furthest thing from my mind. I was greedy and devouring every morsel of pain and pleasure He offered.
"Take off your thong."
A shiver went down my spine even as my heart rate surged. It seems silly. The damn thing covered next to nothing, but that scrap of sheer fabric and elastic was the only thing that hid my holes from view of the dozen strangers who surrounded me.
I'd never been on display like that. My forehead fell against the wall as nervousness, desire, fear, thrill, embarrassment, and the sense of potential freedom crashed through me in a tangled jumble, but my promise to submit left no doubt what I would do.
I couldn't quite catch my breath as one hand left the brace of the wall to hook a thumb into the elastic at my hip. My other hand followed the same action. With all the grace I could muster in four-inch heels, I pushed my thong to my knees and let them fall to my ankles. I carefully step out of one side, then lifted the other foot, and snatched up the bit of fabric before I shyly tossed it in my bag. I couldn't look around to see if anyone watched.
"Good girl," He replied as His hand began to stroke my ass.
His touch kept me hovering lightly in low altitude masochistic space. I closed my eyes giving control of myself and our situation to Him. He'd proven in the most basic ways that I could trust Him to lead us in our journey through the evening, so for the first time in years I rested my watchful eyes and assessing mind. I was safe in His hands.
He shifted back a few steps, so others could see me. A slap. A grab. My ass was His clay to mold and shape. He surveyed the room keeping an eye on the play as well as who took note of me.
I was learning quickly that He very much enjoyed watching others drink me in.
A quick little slap to my ass and a "Let's go" were my signal. I tugged my dress back over my waist and followed. Within seconds He was setting me up at the leather covered sawhorse in front of a floor to ceiling mirror that spanned most of the wall. My eyes once again avoided the mirror.
His hand tapped the top rail of the sawhorse. "Bend over," He said as He stepped back with flogger already in hand.
Feet and thighs together, I leaned forward, and My hands clenched the smooth black leather to help support my shifted weight. I looked over my shoulder, seeking Him, and tried not to think what may or may not be showing as the hem slowly crept up inch by inch.
He assessed my position from a few feet away before He took the few steps forward to stand right behind me.
I instinctively brushed my ass against the firm bulge of His slacks. All night He had teased and assured me with His hardness. His restraint, control, and ability to maintain His erection for hours astounded me. No Man had ever responded so absolutely and insistently to me. Feeling His continued desire sent a renewed trickle of moist heat to pussy and left me aching.
He hummed His approval at my intimate touch before both His hands gripped my waist, shifting me.
The control felt foreign yet reassuring, demanding yet a comfort. I couldn't remember a Man so vested in the details of a moment. His intention was a small thing, but it spoke to my submission in ways words could never reach.
His hands pushed gently at my waist. "Arch your back and push out your ass."
I obeyed shifting my weight from my palms to my forearms to lean almost at a 90 degree angle.
"Good girl," He praised. Then His hands shoved my dress to my waist.
Heat spread across my face. Whether it was the larger room or the loss of the thong or the subtle more dominant pressure of His touch, I don't know, but I was so much more self conscious than I had been at the beginning of the night.
"Now spread your legs."
My eyes closed and head fell forward. I obeyed, but it was a conscious choice, not easy and automatic. One foot. The other. A shift of my hips. A scoot of my heels. My legs were a bit further than shoulder width apart.
The flogger landed with a sharp sting.
I sucked in a breath. Surprise. Relief. His...tone was different. I felt it immediately.
Another even harder. The small burst of fireworks in my mind released me from any further thought of which pieces of my anatomy others could see. My entire focus became the sweet blessed surrender to a level of pain I couldn't simply shrug off. My moans quickly began to accompany the music of His lashes.
I lifted my eyes and watched Him in the mirror. His handsome face and frame made me lick my lips. I wished He could fuck me. The dark slacks and dark grey dress shirt laid on Him elegantly. My fingers itched to unbutton Him. I even watched Him gracefully switch the flogger to His other hand in order to shake hands with someone He knew. Without missing a beat He returned to having His Sadistic way with my ass.
Another sweet biting lash.
He didn't stop. He wasn't harsh, but neither was He easy on me. He altered the pace, the tempo, the heat, and kept me mentally and physically unbalanced even as the intensity subtly heightened.
My ass quickly began to tingle and burn. Our earlier sessions that evening had only shed my skin of its initial defenses and resistance. I was primed in a way I'd never been for impact play. I'd been hovering just off the ground, but I quickly began that mental and emotional ascent I'd longed to feel for years.
His lashes never became vicious, but their sting became hot. My moans shifted to cries and groans. He'd pause briefly to quietly check on me and run His hand over my ass cheeks and thighs. The contrast of those caresses only seemed to bring my skin more alive.
He'd step back and begin again.
I lost track of time. Eventually the fire began to take over. I lifted from my forearms to my palms and flinched hard in response to the flogger's kisses. I was fighting a losing battle. The pain began to consume me.
I bit my lip.
Lash.
My nails dug into the leather.
Lash.
I fought.
Lash.
I fought.
Lash.
I...
was...
FREE!
Lash.
A deep throaty laugh broke in me as I arched my back and neck to meet the pure fucking freedom of flying high and proud in beautiful masochistic bliss. That beautiful zen I'd only briefly touched a few times in my life for mere seconds...I was there.
THIS.
THIS was fucking heaven!
I smiled in absolute joy and lifted my ass eager for more, laughing in delight and utter peace with every strike. The pain transformed somehow some way into some magical force that pushed me higher and higher, and I flew and flew and fucking flew for Him.
Every muscle in me relaxed. I rested once again on my forearms, but this time I looked at my reflection. Shock and surprise met me at the sight of myself. The vision I witnessed was...stunning. My fishnet legs perfectly matched the angle of the sawhorse. The dip of my waist and curve of my ass screamed sex and seduction. The look on my face pure joy. I wished more than anything I could have captured that shot.
I sighed with a smile and laid my cheek against my hands as He continued to beat my ass. I knew this feeling wouldn't last long, but I intended to relish it as long as He and the others in line would let me.
I am afterall...a greedy hungry bitch. lol ;-)
~DominaKat
To be continued...
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