This post follows on from Sinful Shopping. I am talking directly to my man in this piece, letting him know how I experienced the play party. I hope you enjoy this intimate glimpse. The writing in italics is my man’s comment.


A quick (for me) change in the inelegant surroundings of the loo and the frustration of what have appeared to have become auto-release suspenders. I wanted to have that sexy confident look, but it seems my lingerie had other plans.

After more wrestling with lace, clips and fishnet, I smoothed down my dress and stepped out to the bar.

I am sure that the look from you as you checked me out meant that I had your approval. I got to within four paces of you when I felt the ping of my suspenders abandoning all pretence of holding on to my left stocking. I kept going.

You have a habit of finding wonderful, sexy things for me to see. This was no exception. A beautiful woman bound to a tall frame, naked apart from shoes and panties while her man used his extensive toy collection on her. He was skilled, she was a delight. Her quivering and flinching as he built each set was wonderful. The two of them had such a beautiful connection that was shown with the way she leant into him as he checked on her. It made me lean into you. I loved that they had such a long scene.

It was a while before the rest of the equipment started to be used. The main frame was certainly popular and next was a very beautiful girl. Each wrap of rope around her form entranced me.

I was nervous, excited and impatient. I was torn between wanting to savour every moment and jump in and have our turn. I was scared that if we left it too long, more people might ‘get in line’ and we might run out of chances. You ordered me to give my opinion on which piece of equipment to use. My greed wanted to try nearly all of them – although definitely not that one with the ring for a neck. No. No. No. The St Andrew’s cross seemed to make most sense for both getting a turn and being practical. I do hope that there will be a chance in the future for being strung up by my wrists while your strikes make me dance.

I was buzzing. Nerves and excitement made me want run to the cross in case anyone stopped me and said that it wasn’t for me. That there had been a mistake and there was small print that said that I couldn’t. I whipped my dress off and then slipped off my bra. Once we were both ready, I took my position. I was tense with nerves and excitement. Too tense. My shoulders were hunched round my ears. Then your touch and your voice. You soothed, calmed and grounded me. You took away the nerves and made my only focus you.

Then the first thud. It took me by surprise. It wasn’t gentle or tentative. It was immediately the deep satisfying thud across my back that forces me to let go. Each thud forced the tension from me and made me begin to get those first glimmers of floating. I love that heavy plaited rope. I worry every time you mention that you might unplait it.

The thuds continued to build my pleasure. I couldn’t see you but I was sure that you were enjoying it. A pause in the blows and you were swapping toys. That flogger suits you. The way you look when you have it in your hand is so HOT! I wanted to jump you right then – which would have unfortunately broken the club rules. Back in position and the flogging started.

The soft leather was so smooth as it was stroked across my skin. The flogger had a real weight to it and thudded into me. It thudded beautifully, spreading the force into my body while wrapping around my form. You worked me over. The heavenly thud across my shoulders and down my back before the wrapping round strikes on my arse and thighs which carried a biting sting at the end of those tails.  My god, they were intense. I was soon moaning, yelping and twisting as I flinched.  Several times you made me correct my positioning. I loved that. The pause and the order pulled my focus and intensified our connection.

An instruction to turn and I felt even more vulnerable. I hardly know how to describe the feeling of when those heavy falls struck my breasts. Each blow fired the same feelings as when you squeeze them hard. I was floating. High on the endorphins. I think that if you had carried on, I would have been begging to come. I almost begged for more when you decided to turn me back again. I wanted more on my breasts.

After a heavenly while, you swapped the flogger for his new bamboo stick. It’s thicker than your cane. It is lightweight and very smooth. I didn’t know what to expect. I knew (thought) that it wouldn’t have the sting of the cane but I couldn’t guess how it would feel. I don’t know how hard you hit me. It didn’t sting but it added heat to my flesh. The heat  brought me back to the here and now. The rhythm of the stick seemed to energise me. If thuds make me float, strikes make me buzz.

You spoke to me. You played with my fears, my soft limits. You know that I am scared of the cane on my breasts and that I would be scared of the stick. You said that if I turned and let you use it on my front then you would flog me again. I couldn’t resist that promise, although when you went to poke me with the stick, I did beg for mercy. I hate that. I hate being poked with elbows, thin end of canes; anything that is that deep and precise. You gave me that look. The look that is purely my Master, and I did submit. You as the sadist poked me twice and then started to use the stick to strike. It didn’t hurt. I mean, it did. I knew that it did but it was satisfying but challenging ‘ow’ not a ‘please stop ouch’.

I lost all sense of time. I was so focussed on each moment, each sensation, each and every buzz of euphoria. I know that there was more flogging. I know that it hurt when it hit my inner thighs. I remember the concentration when you ordered me to spread my legs wider and look you in the eye while you swung the flogger with such force at my cunt, not once but twice making me falter and struggle not to drop to my knees, stick my hand then and come hard. I remember the speeding up of the strikes, the wicked sting that was making me dance. I started to sob and plead. Then your cheek next to mine. You asked me if I wanted to stop. I couldn’t answer that. I was at the edge of what I could take but not desperate enough to ask you to stop. I didn’t know if I could take much more but I didn’t want it to stop. I craved and feared more. You judged it perfectly. One more set. One more set of deep addictive caresses of that beautiful flogger.

Then it was over. I was floating. It was purely on instinct to behave that I pulled my dress back on and helped gather our things. One thing that was the same in our private and public play is that I need you. I need your touch, your arms, your hands. I need you to hold me as I come down and you did. I love you so much.
[This is such a beautiful piece of writing. I don’t think I could have put it better myself. Thank you for sharing our wonderful adventure.]


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  1. From these words I can feel the beautiful connection between the two of you!

    Lovely writing.

    Rebel xox

    PS: And those damn suspender clips…

  2. Pingback: Flogger | HappyComeLucky

  3. Beautiful writing. And yes, suspender clips just suddenly decide to do that sometimes don’t they?

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