I Got Whipped

I Got Whipped

Weekend visits with Harry usually involve me being in a bit of pain afterwards but this weekend was something a bit special. 

Saturday morning started off normally enough with me doing the housework in my maid’s uniform and, as usual, there had to be some compromising form of bondage involved. This weekend it was a hobble rope between my knees. 

While I did the housework Harry worked out and when I was done she spent a little time sitting on my face in her yoga pants, a combination of breath play and worship. Then crushing my face between her thighs making me lick her through them and worship her feet, in and out of her socks. She told me she was giving me a treat as I didn’t get any post-gym teasing from roomie any more. She was also very upfront and told me she was trying to get me worked up, heh, she wanted me nice and pliant later. 

Then we both changed and went and got lunch out. We went and got our nails done. We spent some time window shopping. Just a very nice afternoon together as girlfriends, which was very respectable and very nice, even if I couldn’t shake the smell, taste and feel of her all over me earlier in the day. 

But anyway that’s not what the headline is about is it? It’s just setting up my headspace when she brought it up. 

Which she did with me naked and on my knees, knees wide, hands behind my head while she sat on the sofa. This, by the way, is a pretty common posture for us to have relationship conversations. I’m not bound in any way and could move if I wanted, I’m free to get up and walk away, there’s no coercion. But the nudity and the posture are both signs of respect for her. It helps us both keep in mind what our relationship to each other is. It’s also impossible for me, in that pose and naked, to hide if my body reacts to the conversation so… it has some practical value there too I guess, heh. 

What Harry wanted to talk about was my desire for her to dress up to Domme me. Which I’ve talked about before. And I think she did in an ask Harry. It’s not her kink, but she does it for parties and such. When she does she looks insanely hot. But we have a difference of taste here. 

I guess there’s some stereotyping in my thinking but I am very turned on by the idea of her in fetishwear, looking the part. It adds to the whole drama of BDSM. Which is kind of the point against it, in her mind. She likes the idea of playing being normal so she doesn’t dress differently for it, it’s just a hobby. Not a performance. She thinks she looks the part regardless of what she wears and, well, she’s not entirely wrong. I get all that, but at the same time, lovers do dress up for each other just because it’s sexy from time to time. That’s my argument. 

So she proposed a compromise. She wasn’t against the idea of dressing for me, but if she did it was going to be a special occasion. “I’m not just going to slap you around, flog you and fuck you, you’re going to have to do something special for me too.” If we were going to do play as theater we were going to do something theatrical.  She wanted to whip me.

She dressed up. Leather dress, leather boots, leather gloves. The boots were platforms. I swear she must have been like 6′6 in them. I was in bare feet. I felt even smaller than I am, heh. 

We did not get straight to the whipping. We started with me worshiping her boots and thanking her for this gift and privilege. We moved onto slapping and breath play, then flogging. A lot of flogging. Same as when I got caned she was using the flogger to warm me up and she was focusing very heavily on my upper back. Not the first time she’s flogged me on the upper back by any means, but normally the focus is on my butt and thighs with a bit of all over flogging for flavour. It was the other way around this time, the focus was on my back and everything else was flavour. So she was going to whip my back. That was… new. But made sense, as my butt and thighs had been fairly heavily used last time we saw each other. 

Then I was dressed up. She took my collar off me, first time it’s been off since she put it on me. It was replaced with a heavy leather posture collar. She put me in a leather waist cincher too. And a bit gag. Because I was going to need something to bite down on. My wrists were put into cuffs and then I was secured to her door. She had these things she put over the door, just a big metal rod on one end and a loop of metal on the other, sturdy material between them, so when you put them over the door and shut it there’s these handy rings to fasten a girl’s wrists to so she’s facing the door, arms up, vulnerable. Harry also has a mirror on the back of her door so… well, I could mostly see myself, being so up close, but I could also see her moving around behind me. That definitely added to the overall effect. 

She stepped up close to me, pressing up against me, hand in my hair, speaking quietly. She asked if I was ready. I said I was. She asked if I was scared and I said that I was. She stroked between my legs and presented my own wetness on her leather fingers to my face and asked if I was turned on. I said I was. She asked me if being scared turned me on. I said… only being scared of her. She laughed at that and called me her good girl. Which made me shiver. I love those words. Then she told me to try and be quiet. She told me she knew I wouldn’t be able to, but that I should try. So that she would know every sound I made was one she forced out of me. That it would make them that much sweeter for her. I agreed and we began. 

And for a little while I actually did keep reasonably quiet. She started very methodically, slowly. I think she was like, feeling her way into the positioning of the strokes. That’s how it felt from my perspective anyway. And getting a feel for how I was taking them. I didn’t do much more than hiss around the bit gag for the first… few. I don’t know how many, I lost count. 

They got harder as they went on, as she found her footing in it. Then they got faster. At which point I was yelping quiet openly from time to time because… my god. It’s not actually as intense as the cane, thankfully, but it’s … oh it’s close. 

And then they came in a rhythm. 

I kind of went through stages. It started with me being very in my head, not in subspace yet but ‘being good’, trying not to make a sound, being very stoic and taking my whipping. 

But it kept coming.

Then I couldn’t be quiet any more. 

Then I was sobbing. 

Then I was sobbing and realising it wasn’t stopping so I was squirming and fighting the cuffs.

Then I screamed for a bit. 

Then the subspace was coming. 

Then I stopped fighting and went back to sobbing.

Then it was over. 

 And I couldn’t tell you how much time passed at each step. It felt like it went on forever. My back is for sure very, very stripey. 

But the moment I felt that leather pressed up against my back, making me wince but feeling Mistress at my back… that was a moment. Her hand in my hair again, on my cheek, fingertips in my tears, hearing her heavy breathing. 

And tasting her, on her leather gloved fingertips, as she fed herself to me and told me that was what I did to her. Just having it reinforced in my mind that yes, Daddy is a sadist, that watching me scream and sob and fight and watching the marks appear on my body genuinely, truly gets her off. Urgh… it was powerful.

The aftercare was wonderful. The sex that followed, eventually, was intense.

Like caning, it’s not an experience I’m in a hurry to do again but it is something I know I can do for her, something special, something I can actually be proud of. Harry has a lot of girls to sleep with. Girls who’ll fuck her better than me. I don’t question that, I’ve seen it, heard it, I know it. She has wonderful lovers. But I can give her something they can’t, or don’t. And yes, Daddy is a sadist. She needs someone who can give her that. Suffering. And I can do that. 

I think I have to accept at this point that I really am a masochist not just a submissive.