HappyComeLucky

This is the follow up to my post Pains and gains! I had just succeeded in earning my rewards. As my man and I are in a long distance relationship, I had to really work hard to fit the last run in before my visit to him. It hit me at the end of it that I had made it and the rewards, that I had spent so long fantasising over, were going to be mine. I trembled. Not just a wobble from the exertion, a tremble of excitement fear and desire as to what could happen now.

Over the previous nine weeks, I had let my mind explore and imagine the way that the rewards would feel – the pain and the pleasure and the overwhelming desire. I thought I knew what would happen. I should know better than that by now. My man mentioned a shopping trip to add an extra treat to the rewards. I didn’t know what to think or feel. I was intrigued as to what it was and scared as to what it was too.

The delightful implement that had caught my man’s eye was an old-fashioned carpet-beater. I wanted to feel it but was scared that it would be more than I could take. I needed to find that place of calm within me, the place where my trust in him allows me to stop worrying and to feel.

When the time was right, we got naked and he lovingly spanked me thoroughly. Face down on the bed, I sank into deep thudding contentment as he spread the glowing warmth deep into my buttocks, thighs and my back. I would have been happy for that never to stop. It did though. This was the warm up – the beginning of the experiences of the evening.

Next came the rope. Beautiful bindings holding my form, adding a certainty of contact and a definition of touch. The rope wrapped me and through its tightness limited my movements – the crotch rope making every movement intense. After a brief pause for some pictures, my man ordered me into his desired position. Face down, arse up and wrists cuffed to ankles. A caress to settle before a stinging slap. The paddle isn’t my favourite but this time it stung less. The heat aroused me further adding to the Orgasm gel he had slicked onto my clit. He slapped repeatedly, covering all of my arse and raising the colour of my cheeks.

After the paddle came the deep penetrating thud of the plaited, heavy rope. I adore the depth of that thud – it takes me deeper into a special place. He built the tempo until the blows rained faster than I could process. I am not yet at the point where I totally let go and I still process to check for damage after each blow. The thuds rained down too fast and I cried out. To my conflicted relief and dismay, he stopped. I didn’t really want him to stop, I just wanted… I don’t know what I wanted. I had reacted rather than thought. His next implement was a feather, with which he teased until I could bear it no more and I begged him to hurt me.

He obliged, of course. Out came the stick. A thick but light stick that plays with my mind as well as my body when he uses it. I couldn’t see what he had. It is a stick but doesn’t sting with the same heat as the cane. The impact from it is a blow rather than a searing, stinging strike. As well as giving my arse attention, he varied things by also hitting me between the legs. This combined with the gel, made my clit throb increasing my ache to come. When he turned the stick and poked me with it, I struggled against the bindings. I don’t like being poked. I can’t process it and it is almost completely beyond me to still myself enough to accept it. My response makes him chuckle. I was very glad that he didn’t want to pursue that particular cruel torture.

To my quivering delight, his next implement of choice was the cane. This was what I had completed all those runs for. This is what had filled those hot and satisfying fantasies of mine. My body had ached for the searing heat of each strike. His comments about the marks just worked to make me more desperate. I started to lose control and my breathing became ragged and panicky. He thrives on my responses and so notices them all. He calmed me and soothed me, ordering me to breathe to his command for each stroke of the cane. His control allowed me to take harder strikes which thrilled me as deeply as the heat in my cheeks.

By this point, my body was sore while my mind and soul was soaring high on the endorphins. His words and touch keeping my connection to him. As he told me how proud he was of me, I felt a surge of amazing emotion that is hard to describe. Now came the time for the new toy. My thoughts scurried away from trying to work out how it would feel. A fear that it would be many times worse than the cane threatened to take control. A tension that needed me to forcefully control it grew in my muscles as I prepared for the first impact. What a delightful surprise it was. A hard, large area thuddy strike that still bore a resemblance to the feel of the cane. For each and every impact I had to count, thank my man and ask for the next one. The first few were easy but as the strength of the blows and the cumulative effects on my flesh built up, I struggled more to get the words out in the correct order and time. The endorphin rush made me want to sink into noises and growls, but words were ordered so words had to be found. The counting kept me focussed and stopped me from completely disappearing into that floaty dream. As always, he helped me to breathe when I needed to calm and luckily for me that was enough to help me not to lose count. It is important to state that the number 27 does definitely have an extra one syllable word before it when counting out loud! Fortunately for me, he decided to accept that new version of the number and not to start again at one.

The rewards had thoroughly been delivered but that wasn’t the end of our fun. There were still more deep pleasures of the flesh to come.