The real-life adventures of a girl who is willing to try just about anything.

floggings

Exactly what I needed

Saturday night I went to the best play party I have ever attended. Wow.

It was a holiday party for one of my local FetLife groups and it was a relatively fancy event. It was held at a local restaurant and we had a delicious buffet dinner. During the last part of dinner we had a show that included an award and title-winning local female impersonator (drag queen), an award and title-winning male illusionist (drag king), and a burlesque performance that included yours truly.
For our first performance, we did a routine to “Hanky Panky” by Madonna. For our second performance, which was the show finale, we used a two song medley that was the first half of “Express” and the second half of “Show Me How You Burlesque” by Christina Aguilera from the movie Burlesque. For the most part, we followed the same choreography as in those videos, especially “Hanky Panky”. For Express-Show Me Burlesque, it was more of an “inspired by” routine. None of us had any prior dance experience, so we had to keep it simple. It was a blast.
Participating in this show was something that really pushed my limits and was way outside my comfort zone. I’ve done a lot of things in public that most other people would never dream of almost without batting an eye. Get naked? Get my ass beat? Get some hot wax thrown on me? Fuck, be fucked? Put my junk on a sex blog for all of the internet to see? Give a speech? Stand-up comedy? No problem! Try to dance and be sexy in front of a crowd of people I barely know??? ~sound of the needle being dragged off a record and then silence~ WHAT??? Nuh uh, no way.
I don’t talk about it often and it would probably be shocking to for most people who know me, but I have some body and self-confidence issues. It’s not that I necessarily dislike my body size or find it to be unattractive. But I tend to be very clumsy, I trip over my own feet (or nothing at all), and I don’t have a lot of rhythm. I can’t even do the Electric Slide, people! I’m also terribly out of shape. On top of all that, I am a perfectionist and my own worst critic. I can’t stand doing something if I can’t do it to my (unreasonably high) standards for myself. It’s something I’ve explained more thoroughly in my blog post about my first (and so far only) pole dance fitness class. (Sorry for the shameless self-promotion there, hehe.)
Participating in the show with these amazing ladies and getting such a wonderful reaction from the crowd was exactly the boost that I needed. I don’t think I’ll be coming down from this cloud for a long while. I can’t even being to thank them. There just aren’t enough words. I am forever in their debt.


After the show and a brief period of setup, the play party began. So much happened last night that it all seems kind of a hazy blur. There were many highlights, however. 
The first one being my time on the hot wax table. My love of hot wax is pretty thoroughly documented here on this blog. It was my gateway kink, for sure. I was waxed before I ever got the first smack from any implement. And my first experiences definitely set the bar. That was 15 years ago. I had a falling out with that waxer way back then and have been looking for someone to recreate the experience for a long time. I’ve never had a bad waxing, because almost all hot wax is good wax to me, but truly nothing has ever come close. Until Saturday night. Not only did my new friend meet the bar, she shot so far over that I can’t imagine anyone will ever break that pole-jump record. HOLY. FUCK. It was beyond a shadow of a doubt the most intense wax session I have EVER had. If I didn’t know any better, I would say I came at least 5 or 6 times. A spectator said that he just wanted to set up a sound recorder and forget ever watching porn again, because he could just listen to that instead. Her technique was just incomparable. And like Prince (not him in that link, but it’s an amazing performance by a tribute artist) said, “I can’t tell you what she did to me, but me body will never be the same.” I wish I could’ve taken a picture of what my hair and makeup looked like. Imagine a lion with raccoon eyes and you might have some clue.

The next wasn’t even a scene or anything. After the wax, I needed to sit down and try to get my head together again. Sitting at the table in only my panties, garter belt, and stockings, Roland started lightly running his fingers all over me and teasing my nipples. I was so extremely sensitized from the hot wax that barely 2 minutes had passed before I was moaning and writhing in the chair, calling all sorts of attention to myself. For approximately the next hour or so, I was teased and tortured by him and several passers-by. When it was over I was a giggling puddle of goo who could barely lift her head off the table. I was a hot mess, for sure.

Once I recovered from that, I had a very long conversation with a wonderful lady who will be opening a kink-friendly bar in the next few months. While not the same as having a local dungeon, she will be hosting once or twice monthly private play parties on a membership-only basis. I actually think that this is even better than having a local dungeon! I also discussed with her the possibility of having a meetup akin to (or part of?) Erotic Meet and Filthy Mouths and Evil Tongues! Who knows, maybe we’ll even get a regular burlesque show, too!

For a while after that I meandered around the party, excitedly watching so many hot scenes, and mingling with friends new and old.

The finale of the evening was a group scene including me, another sub, and at least two different tops. The other sub is a good friend of mine who’d been begging me for a beating for quite some time. She was tied to the Cross and I took turns with the other tops giving her smacks and swats. Then I spooned her against the cross while I got some whacks and floggings of my own. As I was getting my beating, I continued to play with her by torturing her nipples, dragging and digging my nails into her flesh, and biting her all over her neck, back, and shoulders. I had forgotten how much I like to bite and chew on others! When the top was done beating me, I stepped away to give her a thorough ass spanking with a paddle that I absolutely loathe, but she apparently loves, both because it hurts like a motherfucker. I can’t wait to see what her ass looks like today, because I can’t imagine it’s not purple. Her neck and shoulders as well, for that matter.

Roland’s paddle, with which I have a love/hate relationship.
He loves it, I hate it.

Sadly not long after that, it was time for the fun to end as it was closing time. I gathered up all of my things (which were strewn about from one end of the place to the other), said my goodbyes, and we headed out into the densly foggy night. Despite the damp chill of the night, I was warm and fuzzy from head to toe, inside and out. I was relaxed, nothing but contented sighs, smiles, and giggles.

On the way home we stopped for a yummy breakfast at IHOP that was probably the yummiest food I have ever had, including a gingerbread hot chocolate that was to die for! And blueberry pancakes. Mmmm…

The evening was capped with the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time. Roland fucked me hard while calling me his slut and his whore. I was so satisfied that I did not get up to do my nighttime toilette. I just rolled over with mussed hair, smeared makeup, stockings still on, and cum oozing from my pussy, and passed out.

I’ll tell you, there is no better high in life than the one that involves no substances at all, but that uses your body in all the ways it’s supposed to be used. Endorphins are my anti-drug. It was a perfect night from start to finish. And it was exactly what I needed.

Epic weekend: How he broke me, finale

[While each stands alone, including this one, you may want to catch up on parts one and two first.]
“It’s your turn now,” he said.
My heart skipped a beat at his tone. Of course I hadn’t forgotten that I’d asked him if I could be next. I just got a bit wrapped up in my scene with Tammy. I wasn’t expecting him to be right there, waiting to work my flesh. I giggled and shivered with anticipation. 
He stepped over to the array of implements laid out on the table from where I had just used them. Up until this point, he had only ever spanked me with his hand, except for the night of Valentine’s Day when he used my two floggers on me. Tonight I had added selections from a friend’s toy bag, so I briefly described the finer points of each and suggested an order in which they could be used. It was the same order I used them on Tammy, going from light and soft to heavy and hard.
Once his questions were answered, I asked him how much he wanted me to strip. He said I could go as far as I was comfortable. I took off everything but my stockings and my panties, stood on my tiptoes to kiss him, and turned toward the Cross. He didn’t bind me to it, I just leaned against it with my arms crossed in the V. I rested my chin on my arms, sighed contentedly, and waited for his lashes to begin.

He began as I had suggested, with the small black and blue suede flogger with twisted tails. I like this flogger for warming up, as I mentioned previously. Since it is very light, it offers more of a sting than a thud, which is my preferred flogger sensation. However, the stings made fast work of waking up the skin on my back, shoulders, and ass cheeks, although he did not use it for long as the weight was not to his liking. 

He skipped over the unwieldy bungee flogger and went for the purple and black buckskin instead. I loved the way each swing caressed my skin and left behind the slightest sting, but it was also not heavy enough for me. Even if he put his full force into it, he would never be able to hit me hard enough. That being said, each lash I received released tension in my neck and shoulders, relaxing me more and more. If it was a skill that I possessed, I would’ve begun to purr then.
After using the buckskin flogger up and down my back and across my cheeks for a while, he still was not satisfied. He put it to the side and reached for the tool that is the best extension of his arm: my heavy black suede flogger. While Big Green is my favorite for the sheer weight and force behind the tails, this flogger is the personal favorite of my collection. I love to use it on others and I discovered on VD that I love it to be used on me as well. Each swing is the perfect combination of thuddy blunt force and stinging bite. Although he never would, I believe that if he hit me hard enough, this flogger could break my skin and draw blood. 

A few strikes in, the first of many moans escaped my lips. I lifted my head from my arms so that I could uncross and wrap them around the upper arms of the cross, gripping them lightly. The best part of our session had finally begun. I was completely warmed up and my flesh yearned for for more. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Everything beyond me, him, the flogger, and the Cross pressed against my body ceased to exist. I alternated between melting into the wood and pushing myself away from it, to meet his strikes halfway.

It was not long before my skin was tender and extremely sensitive to even the most delicate touch. During a short break in his rhythm, he came in close behind me, grabbed one of my pigtails and pulled my head back so that he could kiss me. The touch of his soft, sensual lips on mine after the bite of the leather was such a contrast that it took my breath away. As he kissed me, he trailed his fingertips and nails across my back. My whole body shuddered as I moaned. I felt wetness drip out of my cunt to soak my panties. He let go of my hair and my head lolled forward. My chin nestled once again in the upper V of the Cross as he continued my beating.
Not long after that I guess he decided then that I’d had enough flogging (which is practically never possible), because the next thing I felt was a sharp sting on my ass. I didn’t know what it was, but it hurt like hell! For the first time I really flinched. Our scene took a definite turn from there. Before that moment, while there were some painful strikes, for the most part it was very warm and relaxing to me. This was altogether different. Instead of pushing my ass out to meet his strikes, I was pulling away from them. I went from lightly gripping the Cross, to grasping it, and digging my fingers in with each lick. My breathy moans became loud groans and cries. The first tears started to gather in my eyes and a few spilled over.

I don’t know how long he continued with what I only later discovered were just the tails of my favorite flogger (it FELT like a single tail!!!), but he stopped only long enough to quickly change implements. Next came a hard smack with my leather paddle. I didn’t have to look back to see what it was; I could tell by the sound it made. Again, this was an implement I loved using on others, but hadn’t had much experience receiving. My ass was on fire by this point and each firm slap only accentuated it. I tried to turn my cheeks away, but he planted his hand against the center of my back to hold me in place while he paddled me extensively.

I love seeing stars

A short time later, he lifted his hand and stepped away for a moment. I was trying to catch my breath when I was distracted by cries of real agony elsewhere in the dungeon to my right. I stole a glance in that direction to see if I could determine the source. My eyes were met by the asses of two young girls bent over a table. Blood was flowing freely down their cheeks. Instantly I became woozy at the sight and turned my head away. In addition I felt like a complete wuss for thinking the trials of my own ass were bad. Little did I know how much worse they were going to get.

My torture began in earnest then, as Roland was right there again, this time with the riding crop in his hand. As if he had radar to guide him, he set to smacking me with the crop all of the spots that hurt the worst, also targeting my super-sensitive, soft inner thighs. My tears leaked in abundance then, wetting my cheeks even as my pussy felt as if would flood. I writhed and jerked as he used the cane portion across the backs of my thighs and calves. When I danced from one foot to another, he immediately brought the crop down on the soles of my feet. Without actually leaving the cross, I tried to move my body as far away from him as possible, to free myself from the endless litany of his strikes.

What happened next is a moment that will be forever frozen in time in my heart and mind. I cannot imagine that the perfection of that one instant can ever be equaled. Thinking of it right now, more than two months later, sends shivers down my spine, blankets my skin in gooseflesh, and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Roland stepped close enough that his body was against mine but barely touching. He put one hand on the back of my neck, leaned in to my ear, and uttered a barely-audible, single word, “Behave.”

With no hesitation whatsoever, I halted all movement. My tears stopped. Where my nerves had previously felt jangled by the pain I was undergoing, they were stilled. My pulse slowed and my breath eased. I calmly leaned against the Cross as I had in the beginning. Not an ounce of tension remained in my entire body. It was like I was a terribly wrinkled shirt that had been smoothed all at once. I have never in my life experienced anything like it.

I could not tell you a single thing about what he did to me after that. There’s no way for me to even begin to guess how much longer I remained on the Cross. All I remember is that eventually he was done. I only knew it was over when he came up behind me, turned me around, and enveloped me in his arms. I rested my head on his shoulder and I felt like I was home.

He held me and comforted me for some time and then tilted my chin up to face him. He tenderly kissed my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and finally my lips. He squeezed me tightly.

I started to shiver then, not with desire, but with cold. The world around me came back into focus and I realized I was standing mostly naked in the middle of a warehouse. I was also getting dizzy. “I need to sit down.”

Roland gently escorted me to a nearby couch after first grabbing a towel for me to sit on and a blanket to wrap around me. (The Woodshed is excellently supplied for aftercare and comfort.) He asked if I would like a cup of coffee and I only nodded, as I was not quite yet capable of speech. He returned in no time and I gladly accepted and sipped the hot liquid. I was a happy puddle of girl.

When I’d mostly recovered a few minutes later, I saw that he was protectively standing a few feet away, watching a fire-cupping scene at a nearby table. (Something I tried a bit later, but didn’t care for. A tale for another time.) I looked up at him and I felt that everything about my countenance exuded love. He finally looked down and noticed. With an embarrassed grin, he inquired, “What’s that face for?”

“This face?” I said, circling a finger around my visage. “You don’t recognize this face?” Again I circled.

“No, what is that?”

“This is my ‘worshiping you’ face, Sir,” I replied.

“Oh yeah?”

When I nodded to the affirmative, he told me to prove it. I asked how and he pointed to the floor in front of him. I was on my knees before him faster than he could blink an eye. I beamed up at him from my new lower vantage point.

He pointed to his feet. “Kiss them,” he commanded.

Without sparing a second’s thought about it, I leaned down and lovingly kissed each of his shoes. Never before had I publicly, or even privately, given myself over so willingly and completely to another. I had been broken. For the first time in my life, I felt owned. I felt like I belonged to someone. I felt like I belonged with someone. I felt whole.

[In case you missed it, he gave his perspective as well.]

Epic weekend: How he broke me, part 2

[Although this part stands well on its own, you may want to check out part one before proceeding.]
After more than two years of wanting to visit, I finally walked through the door into my first-ever public dungeon. Almost immediately I was on sensory overload. I got chills as soon as I entered. All I remember of those first couple of minutes are just sensory flashes: the colors red and black everywhere; the sounds of leather on skin and resulting moans; semi-loud, pounding industrial music; people in various states of dress and undress; and a large space filled with every piece of bondage equipment I could imagine. 
Master Penguin walked us through and gave a brief description of all of the major stations: the slave post, spanking benches, the Horse bench, the bootblacking bench, the St. Andrew’s Cross, the Stickman cross, the suspension pulleys, the cupping table, the waxing table. He pointed out all of the public toys and rope and the towels and cleaning supplies. As his two hot, young girls joined him, he took his leave and turned us loose. It was roughly 11pm, giving us approximately 5 hours until closing time.

We moved back toward the entrance and just stood there for several minutes, trying to soak it all in. My eyes could not rest in any one spot for long. I was so full of excitement that I quite literally could barely catch my breath. My body felt like it was humming and vibrating. There was just SO! MUCH! going on every where I looked. As crazy as it seems, the only thing to which I can compare it is Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory: first the opening credits of all of that yummy chocolate and then the scene where they go into the Chocolate Room where everything is edible. I just didn’t know where to begin.
“I need a drink of water,” I said and turned around to go back out to the lobby. Roland followed me, a slight look of concern on his face. Once we got to the refreshment room, he asked me if I was okay, because I was shaking. I grinned from ear to ear and took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m fine, it’s just a lot to take in!” He laughed and agreed. I got a bottle of water and he made himself a cup of coffee. Beverages in hand, we took a few moments to peruse the wonderful, hand-crafted implements available for sale in the lobby. I needed those precious moments to collect and calm myself a bit before I could go back into the dungeon.
When I’d caught my breath, we re-entered the dungeon. Once again I was assailed by everything happening at the same time. Since it was a Saturday night and one of the two dungeons was closed for a private group, it was extremely busy. Every station was occupied and the couches in the social area were full. Lucy and Alan were rooted to the exact spot where we’d left them, both with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. I knew that feeling well. I inquired about the others and was informed that Tammy went to go have a smoke on the back patio. Clayton and Jane went with her to get some air. Fresh, night air seemed like a fantastic idea at that moment, so I went to join them, leaving Roland, Lucy, and Alan behind.
The patio out back was really just a concrete slab with a few plastic chairs. Nothing fancy, but it served the purpose. I sat in a chair next to Tammy and read the same expressions of overwhelm on the faces of her, Jane, and Clayton. There wasn’t much chatter as Tammy finished her cigarette and we entered the dungeon again for the last time.
The other part of our group were still where we’d left them. My initial nervousness had finally worn off, so I was ready to play. I turned to Jane, asked if she wanted to get her ass beat. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. She said that there were too many people. I looked to Lucy next. She shrugged disinterestedly. Finally I asked Tammy, who immediately agreed. I picked up the toybag and headed in the direction of the “Stickman” cross.
The Stickman is a wooden bondage cross that looks exactly as you would imagine it: a wooden stickman with arms at shoulder-height sticking straight out to the sides. The benefit of the Stickman as opposed to the St. Andrew’s Cross is that your arms and shoulders are less likely to be fatigued since they are not held or tied up above your head. While Tammy stripped down to her panties, I opened the toybag and selected the implements I would use. She had shared with me earlier that she had never been flogged with a leather flogger, nor had she been beaten before by a woman. Both of these opportunities excited me immensely. 
Unfortunately, in our excitement we were talking too loudly and disturbed a trio who were participating in an intimate spanking scene on a nearby bench. One of the group came over to respectfully ask if we would mind lowering our voices. Knowing how boisterous Tammy and I could be, I thought it would be best to move to the St. Andrew’s Cross after all. In was in the far corner of the dungeon by the bootblacking bench. The entire area was unoccupied and there wasn’t anyone close enough to be bothered by us, therefore allowing us to speak in our normally loud voices. It also had the benefit of more room for the rest of the group to join us so they could watch our scene.
Before I could truss Tammy up to the Cross, we had to do something about her waist-length hair. She sent Lucy to acquire a bit of rope which she then used to tie up her hair. The rope was long enough that the leftover slack could be used to lightly tie her to the Cross. After I had laid out the floggers in the order that I wished to use them, Lucy and I bound her to the Cross at the wrist. I selected the smallest, lightest flogger and was about to begin. First however, I stepped over to Roland, who was sitting on the bench.
“When I have finished with her, will you beat me next?” I asked hopefully. He smiled and asked me if that’s what I really want. I said that it was and he agreed to do it. I beamed brightly at him and then practically skipped back over to the Cross and Tammy. 
I walked up behind Tammy and leaned in to speak softly into her ear to ask if she was ready. We discussed the standard “stop light” safety words: green for more, yellow for less/slow down, red for stop, blue for “I’m freaking out.” I explained the floggers I would be using and their progression from light to heavy. We were all set.
The first flogger was appropriately black and blue, very light with approximately 8″ twisted suede leather tails. It’s the ideal choice for warming up. I began to flog her across her shoulders and back in criss-crossing movements. I also flogged across her ass from side to side. I started off lightly and gradually increased the force of my swing. Her skin was getting slightly pink, but the flogger was too light to garner a whole lot of reaction from her.
heavy suede twisted flogger
twisted suede tails

The second flogger in line was a homemade black bungee flogger, made of many strands of thin black elastic rubber. Tammy said that she previous experience with a similar type of flogger. This was not one of my favorites because the tails were really long and there wasn’t a lot of balance. When using a properly balanced bungee flogger, you can get a very nice light stingy sensation, also good for use during warm up. It was hard to get good strikes, so I didn’t use this one for more than a few strokes.
bungee tails
The third flogger I used was one of only two from my own collection. It was a purple and black flogger with soft buckskin tails about 16″ long. This was is also light, but heavier than the previous two and well-balanced. With this one I was finally able to get a bit more reaction from her. I still wasn’t putting a lot of power behind my swings, focusing on her back and shoulders with occasional strikes across her ass cheeks. I leaned in to her ear to ask how she was doing so far. She replied that she was doing well, she liked it and could easily take more. I continued with the buckskin for a few moments longer, hitting her harder as I went along. Her body visibly relaxed against the frame and she gratified me with her first moans.
Now that she was warmed up, I moved to the fourth flogger, another (light) purple and black flogger. This was was much larger and heavier than the others. It had been made by a friend of mine and had long soft suede tails about 21″ long, with a thick handle. It takes a couple of swings to get used to but once you find the rhythm, the tails will fall directly down the back with a nice thud. Tammy’s moans were louder now, which made me enjoy it even more. My friend is a big guy and this flogger was made to fit his large hands, so I couldn’t use it for very long because the handle was too large to hold comfortably.
The fifth flogger was the other one of my floggers. It was a black flogger with tails of heavier suede than the one before, but the tails were much shorter than either of the two I’d just used. They are about 14″ long. This one is probably my all-around favorite. It is light to swing, well-balanced, fits well into my hand, and gives just the right combination of sting and thud, depending on how you strike. Again I started off rather softly and worked my way up harder and harder. Tammy’s back was beginning to turn a nice shade of red. I checked in with her again and she was at the point were words were becoming more difficult, but she had a very contented smile on her face to let me know she was okay.
The last flogger I used was the heaviest of them all, also made by and belonging to my friend. It was dark green, with heavy suede tails about 24″ long. If I am to be the recipient of a good flogging, this is the flogger I prefer. It gives the best resounding thuds and feels very much like a good massage. I grew a whole new appreciation for that as I used Big Green on Tammy. Several months ago, Lucy (who has been given the nickname Pixie due to her small stature), flogged me with it for at least 30-45 minutes, if not an hour. It was so amazing. I have no idea how Lucy was able to move her arm the next day after she’d flogged me! After throwing only a few swings with it, I could feel a dull ache in my wrist, arm, and shoulder. Because the tails are so long what I ended up doing was grabbing and holding the tails almost halfway down, just using the last 12″ or so. Tammy’s back had become the hue most commonly associated with a bad sunburn. After doing another status check on my puddly girl, I took a few moments to tease and tickle her flesh by dragging my fingernails all over her back. I was amply rewarded with giggles, gasps, and moans.
As much as I love to receive floggings, giving them is not my most favorite thing. Spankings are another matter altogether! I stepped over to my toybag and pulled out a few of my favorite spanking implements: a leather paddle with star-shaped cutouts, a rubber spatula, a wooden pizza board, a wooden spoon, and a long rectangular resin paddle with sandpaper on one side. Her ass had already been warmed up a bit with floggers here and there, but I still started her off easy with the leather paddle. Not taking any breaks from that point onward, I rotated my way through all of the selected toys. It wasn’t long before not only was she gasping and moaning, she was also giggling loudly. She flinched a bit with each swat and then wiggled it for more. When changing from one implement to another, I would trace my fingernails over her tender flesh, eliciting more sounds of pleasure. I did not stop paddling her ass until she had dark red blooms on each cheek. 
Approaching her for the last time to see how she was doing, all she could do was giggle for a moment. Finally she said, “I think I need a cigarette.” I wondered if she would need a bucket as well. I quickly released her loose bonds and massaged her arms, hands and fingers. Once she was free, I pulled her into my arms and gave her a big hug and kiss. I thanked her for allowing me to be the first woman to top her and also give her the first floggings. She thanked me as well.
When I turned around, there behind me was Roland. “It’s your turn now.”

Valentine’s surprises

Yes, I know Valentine’s Day was a few weeks ago, but I’ve been running a bit behind on things. I’m looking to get that resolved this week. So without further ado, let me tell you about all that my VDay had in store for me.

As a general rule, VDay isn’t usually a big deal for us. We aren’t a couple who buys a lot of gifts for each other because we’re not really into material things. We also don’t wait for one day a year to make each other feel special; we try to do that as often as possible for no reason other than to express how much we mean to each other. That’s not to say we absolutely don’t celebrate it. One year we went out to a nice, romantic dinner at a pricey fondue restaurant. The following year, after a casual mention of the fact that the B-52’s (one of my favorite bands) were coming to town, he surprised me with tickets to see them. I don’t remember at all what we did last year, although I think he probably made dinner for me.
This year I woke up not even realizing that it was VDay. I went along with my usual routine of getting out of bed and heading directly to the shower without giving it a single thought. When I was out of the shower and getting dressed, I’d bent over to pick up my shoes. He snuck up behind me, delivered several stinging smacks to my ass, and said “Happy Valentine’s Day, schmoopie!” (Yes, that’s what he really calls me and it makes me want to giggle with glee. I call him Big Poppa. hehe) At the time, that’s all I thought the day was going to entail. I got dressed, had my breakfast, and went to work.

For most of the day at work, I chatted online with my friend Luscious (no, that’s not her real name). She was going through some difficult times at home and needed a shoulder to cry on. I invited her to come over after I got home from work, which she insistently declined although I repeatedly offered. She said that she didn’t want to intrude upon our romantic evening. I assured her that there were no special plans to no avail. When I emailed Roland to verify that  he did not have any special plans and to see if he minded company, he replied cryptically. Something to the effect that if there were plans, having company wouldn’t necessarily affect them, he would just need to know as soon as possible. I was a bit surprised. At any rate, it didn’t matter because she said no.

Even though I had to work late, I still got home from work a little bit earlier than had been anticipated. As a result, I caught Roland in the middle of making dinner. He was making my favorite recipe, Publix Apron’s Party Chicken, along with some rice and broccoli (my favorite veggie). He poured me a glass of my favorite wine, Barefoot Moscato, while I waited for dinner to be ready. Once it was done, he and I sat at the table and enjoyed our meal together, discussing the day’s events. We finished dinner and went to our usual post-dinner stations: our computer desks (which are corner desks set up adjacent on one side, so we were next to each other).

After a bit, I had to go to the restroom. Upon entering our restroom I let out a loud squeal of delight as I discovered the gift he had left for me, a Winnie-the-Pooh Pillow Pet. I know he put it there because usually when I come home from work I have to pee and immediately go to the bathroom after our hello kisses. However, on this day I’d been home two hours before I had to go. I returned to my desk, snuggling Pooh and giggling like a little girl. He had a big smile on his face to see it. I cuddled Pooh for the rest of the night but what I didn’t know was that there were many more surprises yet to come!

It’s a pillow! It’s a Pooh! It’s a Pillow Pooh!

Tuesday is our day to catch up on The Walking Dead, so we went upstairs to the loft to watch with me still clinging tightly to Pooh. Since it’s only an hour-long show, usually after that we’ll watch a movie or go back downstairs to our computers, but it was starting to get late and we were tired. So we turned everything off and headed to the bedroom.

I went into the bathroom to complete my before-bed bathroom routine. Sometimes that can be a lengthy process, if Roland is already asleep and all I will be doing is going to bed and sleeping afterward. But with it being VDay, I was at least hoping to get some sex. So I made rather quick work of it. When I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into our bedroom, Roland had laid out on the end of the bed a small array of toys from my toybag: a paddle, 2 floggers, and a riding crop. I felt weak with excitement at the sight. And instantly wet. I looked up at him and smiled.

Without a word he undressed me and turned me around to face the wall. I folded my arms in front of my chest for support and leaned against it. My pussy quivered with anticipation. He did not keep me waiting but for a moment before he used the lightest flogger to begin lashing my back. It felt like soft caresses on my skin. It was a purple and black leather flogger with soft buckskin tails about 18″ long. He started off slowly, not having much confidence as he had never flogged me before. Although slow and methodical, he found his rhythm after only a few swings. My slightly nervous tension evaporated and I melted against the wall.

The buckskin flogger is really only heavy enough for a warm-up and he felt it. He laid it back on the bed and picked up the heavier black suede leather flogger with tails a few inches shorter. He tried a few test swings into the palm of his hand to get a feel for it and then took it to my back. This one is a good mix between between thuddy and stingy and I liked it a lot. With each hit, I felt the heat spread across my back and shoulders. For a complete novice, he was really doing a very nice job and I rewarded him with happy sighs and moans.

He had sufficiently worked my back so that he was ready to move on to his area of growing expertise, my ass. Still using the flogger he whipped across my cheeks from side to side. He changed directions and lashed from top to bottom with criss-crossed motions. He swung from underneath to get my undercheeks. Then he put the flogger aside and switched to the leather paddle with star-shaped cutouts, each smack harder than the last.

I was lost in the growing fire of my cheeks, which was getting painful enough that tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. Next he decided to change to the crop, to give specific attention to my most tender spots.  My whimpers grew more urgent with each stinging contact. Throwing the crop to the side he started using his bare hand, the heaviest tool of them all. Each time he hit me, he gave a little grab and dragged his fingertips to increase the flames. I was so wet I felt it dripping from between my legs.

Either he sensed the wetness or could no longer restrain himself because he beating stopped and I heard his zipper. Before I even had the chance to gasp, his cock was rammed into my pussy. I was soaked and therefore there was no resistance and only the barest hint of friction. He pounded into me so hard that my face was banged against the wall. I could not contain my cries of pleasure.

I felt his hand in my hair at the nape of my neck. As soon as he curled his fingers and had a tight grasp, he used his grip to swing me around so that I was bent over the bed. My face was smothered in the bunched-up comforter at the foot of the bed and the discarded, now-forgotten toys pressed into my chest as he shoved his cock as deep as it could go. His heavy balls swung to throw more weight into each thrust.

Still not satisfied with our situation, he pulled back and stood me up. I have no idea when or how, but he had managed to lose all of his clothes by this point, save for his socks. He slid those off his feet and grabbed my hand. He led me to the back door of our bedroom, which leads out to the deck. My pulse quickened because there is not much that I enjoy more than being fucked outside. I just can’t decide if I enjoy it most in the warm, sunshiny daylight or the cool quiet of the night. Once we got outside, he did not stop but instead pulled me toward the steps leading down into the back yard. Again my excitement stepped up a notch because I imagined lying down in the ferns. He also did not stop once we got to the yard and continued to pull me further along until we reached the driveway. I thought my heart was going to explode.

We are the last house on our street and the road essentially dead ends in our driveway at the foot of a hill. This is where he parks his 1995 Ford Mustang. At the top of the hill is a streetlight that spills illumination down onto his car. He finally pushes me up against his trunk and forces me to bend over. We are in full view if our neighbors should decide to look out any of their side windows or if a stray car should make a wrong turn and venture down our street. Holding my upper body against the car, he did not waste any time shoving his rock-hard cock into my throbbing pussy.

After all of the buildup to get to this point, unfortunately he was not able to last for very much longer. Because we were trying to keep my pussy as fresh as possible for the upcoming epic weekend (a story to be told in a near future post), we had agreed that he would not be filling my cunt until after our trip. He jerked himself out of me, pointed his pulsing member at his car tire, and groaned as his body was overcome by a shudder while he began to shoot his load. Not wanting to waste his precious cum which I rarely get to swallow, I dropped down to my knees to catch it in my mouth. I sucked and swallowed every drop until there was none left to give.
When as I struggled to stand back up my legs were weak and rubbery beneath me, threatening to give out, so I kind of just collapsed my weight on the car for a moment.

Knowing I would need a bit of assistance, he came to me, gave me his arm to lean on, and escorted me back up the stairs to our bedroom. He closed the back door behind us and led me to the bed. I reclined on the bed, expecting that I would be able to rest and catch my breath. Much to my surprise he was still sporting an enormous erection. He is not one to be so eager for another go so quickly. We’d really had no downtime yet. He stood at the edge of the bed, spread my legs taking one on each side of his hips and entered me again.

This time was slower, more relaxed. He fucked me less urgently, taking time to alternately caress my face, fondle my breasts, suck on my nipples, and look into my eyes. For the first time since our playtime began, he gave me a long, sensual kiss. I moved further back so that he could climb onto the bed and on top of me. With him above me, I wrapped my legs around his waist and matched the rhythm of his thrusts by lifting my hips toward him. His face flushed bright red and I knew he was ready to cum again. He slid out of me and spewed hot cum onto my belly. Then he flopped down onto the bed next to me while I snagged a washcloth from the bedside nightstand to clean up.

After I tossed the used washcloth to the side, I rolled onto my side to face him. I was blown away to discover that his cock was still standing at attention. When I remarked on it and asked if he was still not done, he replied, “I guess not. Do you think you can handle any more?” I responded with a huge grin and got on all fours. That was the only answer he needed. He crawled around and kneeled behind me, pushing his cock once more into my aching cunt. Only a few minutes passed before I felt his body stiffen and he pulled out to shoot even more cum across my entire back. He leaned to grab the discarded washcloth and wiped it away before catching himself. “Damn, I should have taken a picture. You should have seen the way my jizz contrasted against the red of your back.”

That was enough to make him feel the need to plunge his cock into my cunt again, in hopes to recreate the shot. My whole body was shaking by then, and I have no idea how I was able to still able to hold myself up. I hate to admit the poor shape I am in, and while I have no complaints about his stamina or the length or frequency of our usual sessions, I was absolutely not used to fucking this long almost nonstop. Usually we go for anywhere from quickies lasting 15 minutes to longer bouts of 30-45 minutes. Not including the half hour of beatings, we’d been at it for at least an hour and a half. Yet he still wasn’t done!

At the exact moment that I was going to beg for mercy because I didn’t think I could take any more, he pulled back just enough that his cock was out of my snatch and rested it up against the crack of my ass, like a hot dog in a bun. His final load spilled out of his tip and ran down my cheeks. He wiped it away, leaving a slightly sticky feeling to my entire tender backside.

My poor old hips were locked from being held in this position for too long, which was the biggest agony of all. He gingerly rolled me off my knees and flipped me over to my back. Once on my back he had to grab my ankles one by one and pull each sharply to straighten my legs. Flat on my back at last, every part of my body felt twitchy and achy but the only thing I could complain about was the receding pain of my hips. I had not felt so sated in a long, long time. And I hadn’t even had a single orgasm the whole night. Honestly, I didn’t need one and I think it would’ve just been too much.

He could see that I could barely hold my eyes open by this time. I was wiped and completely blissed-out. He leaned over me and kissed me sweetly. “And I bet you thought that Pooh was going to be your biggest surprise tonight. Happy Valentine’s Day, schmoopie. I love you.” I was able to mumble out, “I love you, too, Big Poppa,” and with that, I was done. (However, he had not finished yet. He still managed to masturbate to one more orgasm after I’d passed out.)

His words – Breaking T

As I’ve mentioned a few times recently, the weekend before last, I made my first trip ever to a public dungeon. While I have not yet had a chance to detail the experience in my own words, I give you now the words of my love about the evening in question. Please look for my perspective shortly.



The sights and sounds washed over us as we crossed the threshold of the dungeon. The sharp crack of leather on flesh and cries of ecstatic pain penetrated through the din of the crunchy guitar chords piped in via the soundsystem. Everywhere there were toys being used – of both the inanimate and the human varieties.

In the far corner an older fellow in a kilt and tall boots was flogging a nearly naked woman’s back on the St. Andrew’s Cross. Near the door another woman was laid face down on a table with her legs open while her partner tortured her thighs and nether regions with firm, bare-handed slaps. In the center of the room, the dungeon’s owner was suspending two nude ladies in a lattice-work of white ropes from a metal hook hanging down from the ceiling.

For everyone in our group, this was our first trip to the Woodshed, and it was a lot for us all to take in. The more vanilla and inexperienced among us simply had to find a safe place to stand and soak it up for a bit. Others in our group, however, felt like children stepping into the biggest candy store they had ever seen. My girl, T, was of course among this latter group.

It was a busy Saturday night, so all of the stations were currently in use. This was probably for the best as there was so much to absorb, and this gave everyone time to process everything we were seeing and hearing. Eventually, however, the kilted gentleman unbound his partner from the cross. The scene had ended and he wrapped her lovingly in a blanket and led her away to the couches.

As a group, the seven of us made our way over to the now vacant cross. Nearby was an old-fashioned shoe-shine bench used for bootblacking. I perched there for a better view of the happenings in the room and watched as my girl helped prepare her intended victim for a beating. Once her friend was in place, T turned to me and asked if she could be next on the Cross – with my hand swinging the toys. I agreed, then settled back to alternately watch the scene in front of me and to scan the room for other ongoing scenes.

I was watching a young athletic fellow flog a naked blonde on a nearby pommel horse when I heard T call my name. She had finished with her friend and was now ready to take her place. I stepped down to examine the spread of toys that she had been using. I still had limited experience with inflicting pain on her so we discussed the implements and the nuances of each. She also advised me of the order in which she might prefer to receive them.

While I continued to survey the toys, she removed her blouse and skirt, revealing a black bra and delicate black lace panties that perfectly framed her round cheeks. Black thigh-high stockings completed the look. The bra came off as well before she turned her back to me and cradled her head in her own arms against the hard wood of the Cross.

As a starter I grabbed the smallest flogger, which was appropriately black and blue leather. I stepped back and began striking her about the shoulders for a warm up. The flogger was light and speedy, but didn’t give me a very satisfying feeling when it impacted her bare flesh. I tried different angles, different speeds, and switching my target area to her smooth ass cheeks. I needed something bigger. Heavier.

I picked up the next flogger in line, which had soft purple and black buckskin tails twice as long as the previous one, and gave it a few test swings on my open palm. Then I returned my attention to her backside. More rhythmic slapping of soft leather on softer skin. Her shoulders were becoming slightly rosy, as were the cheeks hanging out of the black lace panties. But it still wasn’t enough.

The next flogger I chose was one that I had used on her just a few days prior – Valentine’s Day to be exact. This is one that I liked best and was most comfortable with. It was heavier and thicker than the other two, made from black leather suede with tails a couple of inches shorter than the last. I continued the beating. After a few minutes, I paused and pulled one of her pigtails back so that I could kiss her on the lips. Then I rubbed her down and continued the flogging. I changed pace and technique. Up to this point I had been using forward and backhand swings. Now I gathered the tails of the flogger in to my free hand instead and snapped it on her ass – much like popping someone with a rolled up towel.

She jumped, and the dungeon faded into the background.

I lost track of time as I continued to make her dance and writhe on the cross. Angry red blotches began to appear on her ass as I continued to pop it with the flogger. I don’t know where I was – I found a place inside my head that I had never visited before. It was scary and dark, but also warm and relaxing.

From the flogger I moved to the leather paddle. It made a gratifying slapping sound each time it impacted her rosy cheeks and the backs of her thighs. Her dance had begun to be more frantic as each impact caused her to reflexively shift away from me, but I held her firmly to the wood.

I gave up the paddle in favor of the riding crop now, precision-stinging tender spots – the angry red blotches on her ass, the inside of the thigh. She raised her foot as I struck the back of her knee. I struck the back of the other knee, and again the foot came up off the floor as a new step was added to her dance. I grabbed her outstretched ankle and popped the bottom of her foot with the crop. She pulled away – almost completely away from the Cross.

I placed my hand on the back of her neck. I leaned in close and uttered a single word just loud enough for her to hear.

“Behave.”

Something between a sigh and a moan escaped her lips as she lowered her head into her arms and visibly melted into the wood of the St. Andrew’s Cross.

The beating continued with the riding crop – much the same as it had before, but this time, her flinching dance had ceased completely. After a few more minutes I sensed that she had enough and I gently caressed her pink shoulders, rubbed the bruised cheeks, and turned her towards me to kiss her gently and hold her.

She gazed up into my eyes for a long moment.

“What’s that look for?” I asked.

“Don’t you know this face?” she asked in return.

“No. Tell me.”

“This is my ‘worshipping you’ face,” she stated.

“Prove it,” I demanded, as I stepped back and pointed to the floor between us.

Slowly, she got down on her knees, then looked up at me expectantly.

“Kiss them,” I commanded, pointing at my shoes.

Without a word or a second of hesitation, the brassiest, most independent woman I’ve ever known, prostrated herself before me.

Even now, reading this for the countless time, it still makes me giggle and glow. And want to curl up at his feet where I belong.

Follow along to my perspective of those events.

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