It is starting to get nippy here... well for us it is... enough to send one scampering for a t-shirt and socks in the morning and evening. So when He solicitously enquired if one had a lift for this morning, the mind was on other things... taking stock of the sock supply and whether one needed to start encouraging the family knitters to start post summer production. Yes, one replied... absently between seasons. Oh good, then we will have time for a quick flogging. Snapping back to the conversation one hazard a guess that we weren't talking about some new term for a hand job. Umm... are they back on?
It seemed they were, after having been commuted due to illness and other complications. Snail pacing it to the bedroom, one asked if the t-shirt could stay. No, was the reply. So one climbed onto the box, naked and shivering and waited with that feeling of apprehension in the pit of the stomach. Which flogger... nice or... The stinging wallop that landed on one's arse answered that question. Nasty... with thongs of leather tied to look like barbed wire. Thump after stinging burning thump landed, and one got the privilege of saying thank you Master after each one.
When He finished the abraded flesh was grabbed firmly by both hands and He forced himself into a tight and emotionally resistant cunt. He fucked one with short sharp strokes that hit the back of the vagina in a painful way until, with a satisfied groan, He came. Looking at ones obviously aggrieved face, He smiled and said I wasn't hitting you that hard. There is hardly a mark. You are just getting soft... we need to do this more often.
Scampering out of the room just in case His plan was more immediate, one got clothes ready for work and retired to the shower to nurse the wounded flesh. The mirror on the way past confirmed His assessment. There wasn't a mark to be seen. Gods one just hates winter and cold body parts that feel too much pain and going to work and the return of the Thursday morning floggings.
Mind you as He fucked one in the arse a short while later, with long rough strokes that made one try to claw a way into the pillows, one realised one hated that the butt plug hadn't been in for the last couple of days either. Though for reasons that we won't go into here, one will attest to what a difference a plug can make. In fact at one stage one sort of came to, only to hear oneself promising feverently to be back wearing of the damn thing as soon as possible.
Thursdays are shaping up to be a speshul day.
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