I stood as instructed, legs apart, arms behind my back, my arse glowing with his hand marks. The sting was delicious. My nipples were erect and I was slick between my thighs.
He pulled a rope from his tool bag and wound it several times around the post running between floor and ceiling at the bottom of the stairs. He fastened it much higher than I could reach and fashioned a loop in it that hung down in the front. I always love watching him knot rope. His skill with fashioning knots always intrigues me and as simple and second nature as it appears to him, leaves me breathless and in awe.
I stepped forward towards the rope.
I rose my hands and he clipped them together. He fastened the wrist cuffs with a very conveniently placed carabiner to the hanging rope loop. My body stretched out behind my wrists. My glowing bottom exposed to him invited further treatment.
His arm swung high holding the flogger. He brought it down hard and began to beat my arse, my thighs, my back. The soft leather lengths stung the skin under it's care. Flat leather strands wrapped around my body. Breasts and nipples were stung in the curl of the leather. Welts appeared on my skin tracing the leather's path. I loved it. I was surprised. I had not seen the welts before. The room in which we usually play is dark with red light.
The blows continued for what seemed like hours, the pain relieved by his warm stroking over stinging skin. Cries from my lungs soon began to settle. I could feel the warmth pour over me. It takes hold and all pain disappears. I float and dream, escaping the pounding. I feel nothing but the force of the blows on my body. He sometimes pushes when his girl reaches this place. He will slap and grab at what is his. The girl doesn't stir, though often she smiles knowing he is there caring for her. When he finishes he takes his girl in his arms always, caressing her until she returns to him.
He unclasped the restraint, never letting me feel the danger of falling. Supporting my descent from the bindings. I continued to float and was his to do with what he wished. Slowly his girl returned to him.
Pointing to the mat in the lounge room he demanded,
"On on your knees and wait."
As I returned more and more to him I sank to my knees as instructed, bending forward, resting my forehead to the floor in a devotional pose. My knees open, my hands by my sides. I waited in this child's pose. Hearing every movement he made.
"Lovely" he whispered as his finger traced my back and caressed my hair.
Then I heard the clink of metal behind me....