This is a short stroke-story based on characters in a series called "Amazing Grace". It is not necessary to read the other series in order to follow this story, but if you want more background on the characters, you'll have to look there.
The next short stroke story with these characters is called "Ethan's Grace -- Anal Edition" and will likely be posted in the Anal category.
Thanks in advance for your support and comments.
Ethan's Grace - The Flogging
I stared down at the flawless, creamy skin of her naked backside. Not a mark in sight, it was the most perfect canvas.
She's trembling.
I like it when she's scared. I know it's not so much to cause any real concern. It gives me something to work with. And I have to admit that her vulnerability gets me charged. It's a tribute to how much she trusts me. Granted, she couldn't move because I'd bound her to the spanking bench, but she allowed me to do it full-well knowing what I intended to do.
She belongs here.
I outstretched my hand and lightly caressed her skin to soothe her. The back of my weathered hand was at least three shades darker than her back. I wondered if my calluses felt rough against her skin. Did they remind her that I practice with a whip regularly? If I didn't, they'd be smooth as silk since I spend most of my time typing at a computer.
My caressing was working. Her trembling subsided considerably.
I love to play this body. Work it up to a frenzy and bring it back down again. Up. Down. If I wanted, I could tease this cunt to the edge of orgasm and back again. But that would just distract me from what I really want to do.
I kept one hand still on the small of her back as I reached over to lift the flogger from the arm of the chair. I bought the chair from John the same time I took that spanking bench off his hands. He and Melissa needed to sell off most of their playroom. It was that, or pay to keep them in a storage unit while their house was on the market. They were sternly advised by their real estate agent to remove all evidence of their lifestyle. And with Melissa being pregnant, they thought it might be awhile before they had space to dedicate to a playroom again. So, I helped them out.
Yeah, that's what it was. Purely altruistic; no thought toward your own enjoyment. Ha!
Running my fingers through the heavy tendrils of the custom elk flogger I held in my hand, I could practically smell Grace's anticipation. I'd given her very little information about what to expect. If I'd told her that this was going to be a sensual flogging, she might be squirming about, getting aroused at just the thought of it. What would the fun be in that? No, I wanted her to think I might cause her physical pain. Submit to that idea. Accept that it's my hand delivering all sensations to that body.
Fuck, this makes my dick hard.
I adjusted my dungeon pants for the third time since I strapped her down. The only reason I put them on was for effect.
Now they're tight as fucking hell. If I get much harder, I'll have to open the fly to keep from cutting my dick off.
I draped the mop of tendrils on her bare back and relished the shivers that ran through her from the cold leather. Her nervousness was already causing her skin to perspire, an early indication of a healthy endocrine system. I could still recall with perfect clarity the demonstration I got from my tattoo artist when I'd arrived in time to watch him finish the design he was needling between the shoulder blades of a twenty-something female. She was covered in sweat and goosebumps, the endorphin reaction to the pain; more active in women in men.
Someday I'll watch this body react the same way. Maybe we'll get there today.
I dragged the fingers of the flogger along her skin, allowing the full weight to caress her spine. It served to warm the tendrils as much as it focused her attention where I wanted it. Lazy swipes up one side of her spine and down the other. Then from shoulder blade, diagonally to the opposite hip, across her buttocks and up the other diagonal. I weaved one design after another, changing direction, changing pattern, but always at a slow, controlled speed. I had all the time in the world. The longer I performed this ritual, the more confidence she would have in my control.
It was crucial that she believed in my sense of self-control. I couldn't expect for her to allow me to control her unless I could demonstrate that I could control myself. And given my past, it would be difficult for anyone to trust my self control. Addiction is the calling card for compulsion. But Grace wasn't just anyone. She had faith. In me.
She's so much braver than anyone I've ever met.
I turned my wrist slowly over her buttocks so the strands slid down her inner thighs only a few at a time. Glistening wetness along her slit caught my eye as I was about to move to the other side. I gripped the handle of the flogger tighter so she wouldn't be able to feel my hand shaking through the tendrils. It took a lot of willpower to keep from stopping what I was doing to take advantage of her slickness.
A sudden wave hit my nostrils; the scent of her unmistakable arousal penetrated my senses and about knocked me backward. I froze for a moment and held my breath. I tried not to imagine myself tearing open my pants and ripping her in two with my steel cock. It would be so easy to do.
Not yet. Wait. Breathe.
I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to suck much needed air into my oxygen-deprived lungs. For a few seconds I just concentrated on breathing. In. Out. Deep cleansing breaths. In. Out.
Better.
I was calm again by the time I opened my eyes. Controlled. I continued weaving a path across her back, buttocks, and thighs, lifting the flogger a little more with each pass until I was holding most of the weight of it and she could only feel the tips of the tendrils along her skin.
Gooseflesh began to form and I heard her make a noise for the first time. A heavy moan.
She's ready.
Lifting the flogger and moving my wrist in a small circle, I brought the mop down onto the fleshiest part of her buttocks with a thud. I locked my gaze onto her body to catch any reaction. She was frozen in place. Tense.
I dragged the device over the spot I'd just mildly assaulted and observed her muscles release the tension they were holding.
Good girl.
I wanted to tell her out loud how proud I was of her, but I didn't want her to focus on anything but the flogger. There'd be plenty of time afterward for praise.
I lifted the device for another swing and watched intently. I knew it didn't hurt. The flogger was too heavy to sting. But this was her first flogging and she gets so easily startled. Her panicky brain could very easily convince her that she was being assaulted. I needed to take it slow until she relaxed more.
The second swing was better. She tensed for a moment but then relaxed on her own. I caressed her with the mop, anyway. I needed her to know that she was doing exactly what I wanted.
The following two strokes showed progressive improvement. Her breathing was normalizing, and she hardly tensed at all when the strands left her body the second before the strike.
I started a slow, steady rhythm of swings. Each one landing in a slightly different spot, but always adjacent to the previous blow. One heavy thud after the next with only a brief moment of silence between. I found myself falling into a hypnotic trance. Grace's breathing turned so heavy at one point, I thought she might've fallen asleep.
After covering most of her back and thighs, I decided it was time to zero in on her buttocks and increase the intensity to warming strokes. Ordinarily, I'd switch implements to do this to save my arm. But that would take us a step backward, as Grace would grow nervous again.
I'll just deal with the soreness tomorrow. This is worth it.
I swung the flogger in a larger circle, using more of my bicep to force it around and onto her ass. The thud was only slightly louder but I could tell the force was significantly greater by the rippling of her skin as the impact traveled along the underlying tissue. Her breathing changed momentarily, then resumed the deeper rhythm. I repeated the same stroke. Again. Again. Again.
