F is for Flogging

For the month of April, every day (except Sunday), I’ll be posting a story that has to do with the letter of the day. As my blog is a kinky blog, I will be posting kinky stories. Since the theme of the A-to-Z Challenge blog is gratitude, I thought I would mirror that and have each story relate to gratitude in some way.

F is for Flogging

Richard and I actually bought a beautiful handmade flogger from someone last summer. It’s a lovely piece, and I hope that I can portray its beauty through words.

The rush of wind as the flogger flies through the air is music to my ears. It only lasts for a moment before the thud of the leather thongs of the flogger hit my ass, some of the thongs wrapping around and curling over my hip. I grunt my appreciation for the deep thud. Some floggers can be very stingy, which I don’t prefer, but this one is nice and heavy. That’s not to say that it doesn’t sting, but just that there’s more of a thud behind it.

“Thank you, Sir,” I say as soon as the leather bites my skin. He expects me to say it, but I also like replying that way. I am grateful for him. Grateful that he is so skilled at flogging. Grateful that he has taken the time to learn the things I like. Grateful that he is such a good partner in and out of the bedroom.

He pulls back, and I hear the swing through the air again just before it hits. It’s almost the exact same spot, and I know it must be getting red. I grunt, and repeat my phrase, “Thank you, Sir.”

After ten hits, he switches sides. I am glad for the short reprieve between sets, and I take a deep breath and try to relax my tense muscles before he starts again. But this time, he changes it up. I don’t realize what he’s doing until it takes me by surprise and the leather thongs come up between my legs. He’s very gentle (as gentle as he can be when hitting me with leather, anyway), and I know that he is ensuring he isn’t doing actual damage to my body. But it means that it stings more than it thuds, and I wince. But my training is automatic, and I thank him anyway. I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Good girl.”

Then he switches back to the other side and I sink into the rhythm of his swings.

“Are you ready to be done?” he asks after two more sets.

My ass is warm and I’m sure it’s a pretty pink, but my pussy is dripping wet and I want him to touch me with his hands. “Yes, Sir,” I whisper. I sink down onto my heels, dropping out of my position. His hands run along my back, but I get a swat on the ass.

“I didn’t say I was done,” he scolds. “I just asked if you were ready to be done.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I say as I quickly push my body back up into position.

“Good girl,” he says, and he starts again, doing two more sets before setting the flogger aside. And when his hand slides between my legs and parts my thighs, his fingers find my clit expertly, and I nearly crumple onto the bed. Mmm, it’s going to be a good night.