My Night With The Whip

Looking back...

My Night With The Whip by Lizbeth

    -0r- My Knight With The Whip

My remembrance begins late in the evening, when mellow and lazily groping about in bed, the toys come out to play. In his hand they are magic, taking me to places unknown. He orders me to turn around, he wants my back, a canvas for his playthings, in particular the whip. This nasty number was expertly crafted by a friend in the scene, hand-braided leather with two long strands of cowhide anchored at the end. I recall its maker demonstrating the implement of torture on an obedient sub, and how one nasty smack of the thing left two long streaks on her pretty white shoulder. The marks were side by side, so close they blended into one wicked welt. Although she barely made a sound, I heard the pain screaming from her body and my entire insides reacted with arousal. What if it left a welt like that on me?

               

I lusted for it then, not understanding what damage that whip could inflict, or what pleasure. Once it became part of my master’s personal stash of toys I was enamored and fearful of it. And when I really wanted to get down and dirty, I lusted for it with an urgency that my body must have communicated to my master.  

He normally applied it lightly to start, warming up. Then again, he didn’t follow any sort of routine – not in the bedroom, not late at night when the dark gremlins from a day emerged from hiding and demanded to be appeased.

Light was fun. Light was easy and sensuous, but hardly what either of us craved, and not what either of us needed. He picked up speed when he felt my energy start to climb, and I could only wonder how hard he’d hit tonight. Into what demon realms would he take us?  I was smiling inside all the way down that rocky road to pleasure.

My crotch was wet. My breath shallow. The pheromones in the room signaled our mutual lust. Subspace didn’t take long, the point when pain turned into something quite different from pain. The altered states began, the spasms burst through my body and the cumming began. I sat on my ass before him on the bed, and rocked my crotch against the sheets as he delivered me into my happy world of surrender.

“Want more?” he’d ask, from time to time, just to fuck with my brain. I knew, I always knew that we stopped and started according to his plan…his whim.

Tonight was no different. The whip came down hard against my back, on my right shoulder and then the left. I began cumming in one long continuous flight of body nirvana. I quit my brain, forgot to think and rode the feeling for as long as he dared to love me with such intimate fierceness.

Any moment, I knew that he would throw the whip aside, gather me into his arms from behind, and stuff his fat prick in my cumming pussy. Any minute. Any minute…

Until then, I’d be there and waiting, as the whip struck and the pain moved through me, cumming happily in my prison of love. 

(c) copyright 1213, Unpublished, all rights reserved