A Whipping

A Whipping

How can I tell you what your whip does to me?

For all my command of English, for all I've read and wrote, the words vanish in the rush that goes through my whole body when I think about it. The cliche is leather kisses, but *oh* they aren't kisses to me. Kisses are wonderful and I enjoy every one you give me. But the sting of your whip is transforming.

It used to be, with other doms, that I had to be tied down, bound wrists and ankles to a bed or cross. So tight that I could only squirm when I was hit, and frequently gagged because… Well, it hurt, obviously, and I would scream. A bit too loud for most. But that was before I met you. You looked at me and that look, it enveloped me. You didn't have to say a word and you *owned* me then. The intensity in your eyes, the way you stood with your back so straight, head so tall, the command of everything and everyone around you. Even the other doms stood away and deferred to the sheer might of your simple *presence.* How could I not want to know your touch when every other sub at the party was wanting the same thing?

But you picked me. You led me to the impact room, signed us up for a turn at a table. Just a table, no cross, no need for restraints, you told me. You never used them any more, you said. There was no point. And that grin you gave me then near dropped me to my knees in front of you.

While we waited, we talked. Or really, I talked--babbled--and you listened. Listened while I told you about my life, about… you know. It wasn't important then and you remember, no doubt. You wanted to know what your whip does to me.

You led me to the impact room when it was our turn and you made sure it was private. Then you ordered me to strip. I tried to look appealing for you, to display the best of my body, but you barely watched. You were inspecting your whip while I disrobed, looking over each inch with your careful, intense eyes. And you only looked up once I was naked and waiting.

You told me to lay down on the table on my stomach and to get comfortable. I was shaking by then and it took a bit for me to find the right position but as soon as I had I felt your hand moving down my back. One of your nails found the hollow above my spine and dragged down it, a delicious sharp sting as you left a thin white line down me. Your first small mark on me. And I? I thought to myself, for a moment, that maybe I built you up too much.

You told me say yellow to slow down and red to stop.

And then you hit me once.

I heard the snap before I felt it. A single strike, right on my left ass cheek, small, stinging, and sharp. Almost nothing. I almost laughed. I was certain than, certain you'd be one of those gentle doms. All talk, no walk.

Then the second strike on the other side. A perfect mirror to the first. It came faster than I was used to. Almost faster than I wanted. But it was still just a bee sting, if that. I almost said yellow then. After two strikes, I know! I was so certain I was going to be half tickled that whole time, not actually hurt.

The third strike came faster than the second. On precisely the same spot as the first. I felt that first shock go through my spine. It hadn't really *hurt* more. Not yet. But it was so exact, so... perfect. Crafted.

Before I could think, the fourth. The fourth is the last I remember clearly. It was longer, with more than just the tip of your whip. It curved under the second strike, just under, just so. I finally gasped then.

The fifth... Fuck the fifth. Hard. That's all I remember. Hard, right in the center, right above my ass, sending pain like I'd never known up my spine and I know I must have cried out but I didn't hear it. All I heard was a rushing sound in my ears like the world had melted a bit around me and was pouring away.

More strikes came. Dances of stinging, sharp pain all over my ass and back. Light touches waking my skin, hard, sweet lashes that turned the rush in my ears into a roar, oh god. My body was fire, do you understand? Each touch of leather was kindling, until I wasn't fire any more, I was expanding, until it wasn't your whip in my mind any more, just an extension of you and your touch and your intense, possessive eyes.

By the time you were done I was crying and I had no idea when you truly stopped. By the time you coaxed me back from the world your whip gave me with your gentle touches on my face and hair, by then my throat was raw from moans and cries I hadn't even heard myself make. And when you kissed me, when you kissed me... I can't. I don't have words. Love, joy. Surrender. I was yours, your perfect pet. In that moment there was not a single thing I wouldn't have done for you.

But you got me water instead. You put lotion on my back and put bandaids on a few of the welts. Welts I'd touch later for the small rush of pain and memory of you.

So that’s what your whip does to me. That's why I need it again. I'm healed, I'm whole, and I'm ready for you.

Oh god. Oh *god.* That grin.