PART 2 Flogging

“Do you know what good girls get?”

 

“What do they get, sir?” I give him a wry smile.

 

“They get rewarded.” I feel a thrill shoot through me at this prospect.

 

“How, sir?”

 

“They get to come, Princess…”

 

I feel a broad smile cross my face as I start bouncing with excitement.

 

“Go stand there at the side of the bed.” I quickly obey. Daniel steps behind me and unhooks my bra, divesting me of my last remaining item of clothing. He reaches around and cups my breasts in his hands, giving them a firm squeeze before he harshly pinches my nipples. I rub my thighs together furiously as I thrust my chest forward in an effort to maintain contact.

 

His hands travel languidly around my body as he makes his way to my backside. He cups my ass and starts to massage the cheeks. “I’m warming up your skin. This way you can handle more for longer.”

 

“I can handle more what, Sir?”

 

“Pain. If you so choose.”

 

My body positively vibrates with need. “Thank you.”

 

He furrows his brows, “For what, Princess?”

 

“For taking care of me.”

 

A beautiful smile spreads across his beautiful face, and I feel a familiar sense of safety. “I always will.” He reaches around me and picks up the flogger. “Run your fingers through it.”

 

I do as he asks, feeling the soft material as I pass my fingers over and through it. “It’s so soft.”

 

“Like I told you, with everything we do, we start low and slow.”

 

I nod. “I understand.”

 

He guides me over to the corner of the bed. “Hands on the bedpost.” I comply, raising my hands to the sturdy wood post. “Good girl.” I close my eyes as a tremor runs through my body. I hear a soft swishing sound behind me. I open my eyes and view the two of us in the mirror. He hasn’t touched me with the flogger yet. I see him gently sway it in a figure-eight motion. I hear my breath hitch when I look at the muscles on his forearm flex and release as he controls the movements of the flogger. He looks at his instrument with such reverence. He then gazes over my body, deciding where to land the first stroke. I flinch, expecting a sting, so I am pleasantly surprised when I feel a soothing caress over my backside. After a few gentle strokes there, he moves his attention, in a pattern of unhurried sweeps up my sides and languid drags along the line of my spine.

 

“That feels… delightful.”

 

“It feels good?”

 

I nod my head, “Yes, sir.” He maintains soft strokes on my skin… so soft they leave goosebumps in their wake.

 

“Tell me what you want, Princess.”

 

“I want it harder… But just a little bit harder, sir.”  He indulges my request. It’s just slightly firmer, but not remotely stinging. I’m focused on the graceful movement of his arms as they move through the air.

 

“How does that feel.”

 

“Soft, sir.”

 

“Tell me what you want.”

 

“I want it harder, sir.”

 

“Remember, low and slow. If it gets too demanding too soon, you won’t be able to handle the flogger as long.”

 

“I trust you. If you think I should go slower, I’ll wait.” I see him nod in the mirror. I’m awed by his concentration. He goes back to giving the same soft-ish strokes. They’re not painful, just there. It’s grounding me in the moment, in a way. I watch him, dazed by the fluidity of his actions – it’s beautiful.

 

I don’t know how long he’s been at it, but I snap out of my daze when I hear him say my actual name – that’s usually reserved for when I’m not responding. “Johana. Johana, are you with me?”

 

I nod, “I’m with you. Sorry I checked out there.”

 

“You doing alright?”

 

“More than… I got caught up watching you in the mirror – watching the way you move. It’s beautiful.” He nods, looking like he’s not quite sure how to respond to that.

 

After a few moments he speaks. “I think we need to establish a check-in system of sorts.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It’s kind of like a safe word, but the other direction. We use it as a signal that you’re still with me. I’m concerned that in the future, if and when scenes get heavier, you’ll get too far into subspace and won’t use your safe word when you should. ”

 

“Okay… What kind of system?”

 

“We could do a ‘squeeze’ system – I squeeze your hand twice, and you give me two squeezes back. This would also be useful in the future if you’re gagged and can’t say red or yellow.” I feel a sudden thrill go through me when I think about being gagged.

 

“Okay. If you squeeze my hand twice, I will squeeze back twice. What happens if I don’t squeeze back?”

 

“I pause the scene until I make sure you’re okay.”

 

After a few moments of thought, I respond, “Alright, that sounds like a good idea. But what if it’s like, cumbersome to do a squeeze test?”

 

He frowns, “How do you mean?”

 

“Like, now – your body is moving while you’re doing the flogging, and it would be awkward to come around and squeeze my hand while still flogging. So you’d have to stop or something to come around and squeeze my hand, right? But if you stop but I’m still ‘good to go,’ the vibe is interrupted for no reason, you know?”

 

He smirks, “You concerned about interrupting the pain, Princess?”

 

I roll my eyes, “If I’m enjoying it, yes.”

 

His eyes darken in obvious arousal, but his voice maintains an even, controlled tone. “Then for the sake of not unnecessarily interrupting the vibe, I’ll ask for a word. What word do you want me to ask for?”

 

I think for a minute for a word I can remember easily but won’t kill my mood… “Cherries.”

 

“That works. So it’ll be like this – I’ll say, ‘give me your word,’ and you’ll say?”

 

“Cherries.”

 

“Perfect.” He looks at me carefully, “You okay to go on?”

 

I nod, “Yes. Definitely. Please.” I’m sounding a little desperate, and Daniel responds with a smirk.

 

“Okay, princess. Do you still want me to go harder?”

 

“Yes, I’m ready for that.” He returns to making circular and figure-eight motions in the air with the flogger.

 

“I landed those soft strokes in various places on your body, but as I start to give you painful strokes, they’ll be localized to the fleshy part of your ass.”

 

I nod furiously, “Yes. Yes. Do that.” Yeah, I’m sounding shamelessly eager…

 

This time the lashes have a little bit of bite to them. I feel about a dozen lashes before I start to feel a distinct stinging, though it’s not entirely unpleasant. He lands them on both cheeks, hitting different areas each time. My guess would be that spreading out the surface area enables me to endure it longer. Between harder hits, he gives a soft caress, giving my skin rests. I count another two dozen, then he speaks up again.

 

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Princess.”

 

“I feel… good. It stings a bit, but it’s not unbearable.”

 

“Do you want more?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“Okay. When you say ‘more’ do you mean that you want more of the same intensity or a harder intensity?”

 

I take a few moments to consider the question, “You can go a little harder, but is it possible to slow the speed?”

 

“I can.” And he does. I like this – it’s harder, and the stings are sharper, but I’m granted an extra couple of milliseconds of recovery time. In all honesty, I don’t think the rest period makes the lashes less painful. If anything, it actually in a harsher pain. I think giving the skin’s surface those extra moments of recovery makes the next lash all the more intense. But the feeling is enjoyable. I don’t hate it.

 

“How are you doing, Princess?”

 

My eyes remain closed, “Really, really, good, Sir.” After a few moments, I add “Harder, please. Sir.” I open my eyes after a few seconds of not feeling an increase in pressure.

 

I look at him in the mirror, and he appears to be hesitating. “Give me your word, Princess.”

 

I smile, “Cherries.” He nods, then the next lash is a little harsher, definitely stinging. I yelp in surprise, and he looks at me in the mirror. I catch his eye and nod, encouraging him not to stop. The next few hits genuinely sting.   I can feel my muscles tense up and he goes back to a lighter stroke. I close my eyes to devote my consciousness to accepting the sensations Belllamy gives me as they start to sting more. I relax my muscles and another harsh sting lands on my backside, but I concentrate on keeping myself relaxed. The strands continue to land, steadily and painfully, but I maintain steady breaths and keep my muscles only tense enough to remain standing. Right now, I’m really wishing I was tied up on something so I could just let go.

 

I’m now aware that the lashes are becoming soft again. I open my eyes to see what’s going on. “What’s happening?”

 

“You’ve taken a lot, Princess.”

 

“It doesn’t feel like a lot.”

 

“It’ll feel like a lot tomorrow. And it’s your first time. Remember low and slow. Trust me?”

 

I nod my head, “I trust you.”

 

He smiles approvingly, “You’re doing so well, Princess.”

 

He gradually comes to a stop and retrieves a tube of something. “This is arnica cream. It’s a homeopathic remedy, helps with bruising.” He points at the bed, “Lay on your stomach on the bed.” After I’m positioned, he starts to gently massage it into my burning, tender skin. Okay, yeah it’s a little more sensitive than I thought. 

 

“Do you think it’ll bruise?”

 

“No. But it won’t hurt to put it on.” I’m almost disappointed. (Another reaction I’ll file away for later analysis). Then he leans over and tells me in a low voice, “I’ll take any excuse to get my hands on your ass. You did good, Princess… Really good.”  He grabs a jar of something else. “Lavender salve. It’s a soothing formula. Again – I get to put my hands on your ass.” He rubs the salve into my cheeks, “Open your legs.” I quickly comply, and I can fucking hear how wet I am as my legs separate. I bury my face into the sheets on the bed, totally mortified. Apparently he is marveling at it, though. “Holy fucking shit, Princess… This is what gathered during your flogging?” He rubs his free hand over his face. “Fuck…” He rolls me back over so I’m facing upwards.