Flogging First

I pin you face forward against the wall, pressing my body up against yours, feeling my weight molding myself up against your frame. Breathing in deeply, I take in all of you; your 'hawk, your strong shoulders, the smell of you, both natural sweat and arousal along with a hint of your deodorant. Mmmm. It's raw and masculine and it makes something inside me growl. I want to bite your neck, to mark you, to make you mine for the night.

Your breath catches slightly with anticipation, and that's all the encouragement I need to place my teeth on you, just a small nibble at first. I hold myself back; we are still feeling each other out, and I don't want to scare you away. Taming my inner desire for a moment, I run my hands down along your arms, and then your sides as I pull your soft black t-shirt over your head.

Damn, you looked so fucking good walking through that front door, that black t-shirt and jeans, those blue eyes that just seem to catch mine until I cannot look away. It took a lot out of me to hold back, to wait, to not press you down to the floor to your knees, to tell you that is where you belong, to let you kiss my boots in admiration.

Now you stand in front of me, your hands crossed above your head, shoulder muscles tensing as you wait. Kissing your neck, your shoulders, I see red marks bloom on your flesh already...but only from hints of my lipstick that leave landmarks of my desire upon the blank canvas in front of me. If I wasn't so nervous, I would have made you kiss each flogger before the flails found your skin...but instead, I make you face away from me as I drink in the image of you in position, waiting for a taste of the pain I am preparing to provide.

The first hit is barely a half hearted throw, but you jump in surprise, and I watch as some of the tension finally leaves your shoulders in response. Another hit, another, and then still another. As the soft moose leather flogger finds a rhythm you can relax into, your back begins to show a few signs of pinkening. The flogging continues as I throw it again and again, mostly in a pattern, but just enough offset to keep you on your toes. Rhythmic enough to build those endorphins but chaotic enough to keep you from thinking you know what will hit next.

I can't help myself anymore. Stepping forward, I wrap one hand across your chest, bite your neck, and scratch my sharp red nails down your now slightly reddened back as you arch your body into me. Now it's my turn for my breath to catch as I feel a shock of desire deep in my cunt. Flogging first, I remind myself, flogging first. All I want to do is pin you to the bed and bite and scratch and grab and pinch and take you right here and now. Again, I hold myself back, wanting to ease you into things, wanting to learn how you respond to different sensations and whether I can trust your no. I want to be able to trust your no so I can do all the things I want to do to you.

I switch to my twin floggers, the rainbow metallic flails reflecting my curve hugging black dress as they hang by my sides. Then, without warning, I begin to twirl them in familiar Florentine pattern, my feet following the same foot steps I have traced for almost two decades. They find their rhythm on your back and sides, and just the top of your as they spin around and around again, breaking only for a few harder bits before they cycle back into the same rotation. I see you let this rhythm take you somewhere, I watch as you as something shifts just a little, and you take a deep deep breath.

Later, you tell me it has been over a decade since you last played in a kink sense. I'm floored, because everything just clicked so well, felt so right...but then I think back, and I remember that moment with my Florentine flogging when I saw that shift. That was you finding that deeper connection of body and mind that kink often brings us. Perhaps I didn't know it when I saw it, but that was you coming home.

Colors flash as the two floggers twirl, twist, swish, and smack. In between rotations, I run my nails across your chest, up your arms, down your back, delighting as the goosebumps creating in response to my touch. I love the way you respond to me, the little noises you make, the way your body shifts just slightly when I touch you.

I want to hurt you, just a little. I pick up my heaviest flogger, this one also in rainbow shades, but with heavier and slightly stingier flails. It's our first night together, and I want to press you just a bit. To see what you'll take for me...

And take it beautifully you do. Your back is red as I wield this flogger first with only one hand, and then with two, bringing it down on your back again and again. I bite you and then hit a few times, drag my nails into you and then a few more throws. I am getting close to a point when I can no longer hold back, where I want to touch more of you, to be closer to you and the sensations I offer. I want my hand around your throat. I want to bruise you with my need. I want my hand woven into your hair as I pull you where I desire you, push you where I need you.

When I cannot take it anymore, I spin you around, your blue eyes catching mine as they are wont to do. Looking into them, I tell you clearly and confidently that I am going to slap your face, simultaneously checking for a no, and daring you to try and stop me. When I see only more desire and need in response, my hand firmly contacts with your cheek, remaining there as I cup your face. Then I push you towards the bed after making you leave your jeans in a pile on the floor, and get ready to let out all the pent up desire I've been keeping pushed down inside. I want you, and now I am going to take what I want.