At Peace

I hate it when I leave my blog hanging. Things have happened since my last post, but of course I’ve been too lazy to actually write about them, so my blog has been in a perpetual state of “WANT NOW PLEASE” since then.

Allow me first to say: I am at peace. And all because of a beating.

Heheh, no, my sex life is still rusting and crumbling away in a dark, neglected corner. My kink life, though, is alive and well, which is the saving grace of my sanity.

Last Friday night I went to a play party at a local private dungeon, my favorite of all the play spaces in this area. It was a Halloween party, and I went as a flapper, which was fun (and comfortable!). I really had no solid intentions of playing, especially since it was clear that the Top I have been conversing with was not going to show (but then she never said she was going to, so it wasn’t a big letdown or anything), but the Mistress of the dungeon offered to exercise one of her specialties on me: single-tail whipping. I have never been singletailed before, and she has an excellent reputation as a Top, so I went for it.

Was. It. Ever. FUN.

She had me strip down to my skivvies, then stand up against a St Andrews cross. She started off with a light flogging, which got progressively harder, until she was really whaling on my back. Or at least, it felt like she was whaling! Her big joke is that she is the “nice” Top among the loose ring of Tops who frequent that dungeon, and she kept the joke up while she was beating me. Let me tell you, if she’s the “nice” one then I’m extremely reluctant to play with the “not-so-nice” ones, ha!

Anyway, after the flogging she progressed to the single-tail. That little fucker stung. (Cue shock and amazement from anyone who has experienced a single-tail whipping.) But, this woman has impeccable timing, and just when I was thinking I couldn’t take any more, she backed off and used her hands to press and almost, well… THUMP into my back, which was intense and amazing. I am a real fan of thuddy impact, and the palms of someone’s hands backed up by all the muscle in their arms and shoulders vastly surpasses even that of the thuddiest flogger.

Then she brought out a cat-o’-nine-tails. I had never been hit by one of those either, but now that I have, I can tell you it’s really like a cross between the flogger and the single-tail. It is thuddy and stingy, and the combination makes it mindblowingly intense. I cried, which surprised me. It was the first time I’ve cried during play, and I’ve taken knives, needles, canes, canes over knife cuts and one hell of a paddling.

Then, finally, she went back to the whip. She asked me how many “good ones” I thought I could take. At first I honestly didn’t know what to tell her! I was so hesitant, but finally I told her five. It seemed like a good number to take, braver than three but not as reckless as ten. I closed my eyes, braced myself, and… wow.

I’ve been wondering if this makes me crazy, but I actually liked the hard single-tail strikes better than the smaller ones. They didn’t seem as stingy. They definitely weren’t thuddy, but they were somehow more bearable, because they left a very distinct line of burn across my back. But it wasn’t that annoying, itchy kind of sting. I was almost tempted to ask for more, but my knees were on the verge of giving out and I was sweating up a storm, and starting to enter that bottom-shock phase, so it was probably a good time to stop.

Thus ended the experience that helped dull my too-acute sense of deprivation.

And now? Now, I’m doing alright. Still horny, obviously. But doing alright. Whatever happens, happens. And honestly, even though I may bitch about it, this kind of anticipation only makes the final event that much better.


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