Very recently missy and I were discussing the reasons why she wrote for her blog. As you can imagine, there are quite a few, one being that she wanted to provide me with feedback on our relationship. Of course, missy could articulate that verbally when she wants too, however, anyone who reads missy’s blog with know there is a lot of self-reflection. For missy, this allows her time to think about what she wants say and what message she wants to deliver to me. Sometimes writing things down helps you to articulate things much better than shooting from the hip. It was during this conversation missy said that she did not always really know what I got out of certain types of play, and could I help her with that?
Flogging is an area I didn’t think we would get into, however, we have, and it has been mutually enjoyable, although for different reasons. For me it is a mixture of things that don’t read entirely well if you were to pick up this piece in isolation and not knowing about BDSM; Even so, it does sound odd when I read it.
I’m quite physical, not in the athletic sense, more the tactile. I love physical touch, and in the past, I have enjoyed a variety of contact sports. In fact, I would go far to say that I really enjoy contact sport to the point that getting hit or thrown was enjoyable, however, returning the compliment was much more satisfying. I feel, for the sake of settling my own mind that missy is a fully consenting adult in everything we do. There, it is said, and I feel way less like an abuser. Raise your eyebrows if you wish, however, doing it, discussing it and swapping experiences is one thing, writing it down really pulls it, or me, into the spotlight.
Standing there, with a toy, although it is much more than that, it gives me a deep sense of power that toys do not, it is a mental thing. I have someone in front of me who is about to be struck with something designed to allow a lot of force to be transferred from my body to hers. If we have ever met, you will know that I am larger than missy, probably twice her weight and 7 inches taller. Whatever force I exert needs to be throttled back, initially at least. At first my focus is very much about judging distance and rhythm, getting my stance right to ensure I strike her in places that could cause her no harm. It’s a very practical mindset, I am neither turned on or off.
After a time of steady warm up throws of the flogger I feel the need to go harder. I would go harder there and then, and yet I know I must build up. I have often wondered about the men who delivered punishment with a flogger designed to caused maximum damage. Did some enjoy it, were they turned on and afterwards did they seek sexual release? It’s a strange feeling to have total control over a person and for some it can be negatively addictive. I’m not that person, I don’t get pleasure from giving pain, although that is what a large part of my brain is saying. Another part feels like a snarling dog waiting to be let off a lead and it’s erotic to have to controlled lust that in my head. You know can, but you don’t let go, not yet.
We reach a point where I want to check in with missy. I need to know she is okay and once established I can tell her that only her safe words can control the flogging. One mention of ‘yellow’ and the flogger with lose 80% of its energy. ‘Red’ and we stop. I am always conscious that missy’s pain threshold is high, and she also wants to please. This needs to be constantly monitored and will ultimately be the safety brake to stop me from letting the dogs out completely.
Now my blood up and my cock is hard and so are the blows. They are not random strikes, more a calculated execution. The flogger is held in my right hand and the end of the falls in my left. I plant my feet firmly and twist my torso anti-clockwise drawing my arms in the same direction. I choose an area between her shoulder blades and keep my eyes on that spot, never leaving. I grip both hands and then thrust my hips towards her, driving my right hand to point at my chosen target and at the last second, I release the falls into a trajectory that cannot now be stopped.
There is a distinctive ‘therrrwack’ and the falls land home knocking a small breath from missy. My brain lights up and my muscles feel the release of chemicals after doing their job. It feels amazing and my brain is already instructing my hands to gather the flogger up and repeat the process. It remembers the strength required to deliver the last blow, it assesses missy’s response in both her physical appearance and sounds coming from her. It has already calculated the effort required to hit harder next time, and so it happens, again and again. I feel alive and alert, the control is off the chart and I feel a massive need for her physically.
And then it stops. The flogger is cast aside, and I am on her, grasping her hair and kissing her mouth. All I want is to be inside her but the time it will take to get her on floor is too long, so her mouth is the first gateway to being inside her, on her knees. My desire to continue to hurt her is still ever present and finally I have her on all fours, admiring the marks on her back and grasping her arse cheeks, digging my fingers into her skin whilst I fuck her as hard as I can. The experience doesn’t last long as all my head and balls want to do is explode. Her submission drives me to this, not my hitting her but her letting me hit her. She has the ultimate control to stop it but doesn’t, and she does it for me.