I love impact play. I pride myself in my stamina when faced with a Dom set on pushing my boundaries. While my body doesn't translate pain to pleasure, I do get lost in the mindfulness that is required to compartmentalize each hit and prepare for the next. Feeling my body in that way is such a high.
Mr. Intensity is a wizard with impact play. He knows exactly how to scaffold each hit to push his sub to their next level- he varies implements, placement, and force to create a gradual symphony of moans and screams. If he puts his mind to it and has a willing participant, the bruises and marks that remain are art.
He messaged me to say that he had a new implement to try, and that when he found it he immediately thought of me. He said that it was going to be rough, but that he knew I could handle it.
I'm a sucker for praise, especially from this man. Moth, meet flame.
His weapon of choice was a construction marker- a long, thin piece of fluorescent orange rock hard plastic used to mark curbs and things on construction sites. If you look around a grocery store parking lot or a road construction site, you are likely to see them sticking out of the ground. He was picking them up from a job site, and immediately thought about my ass- how flattering.
He let me touch it, and I started to get nervous. The material was unforgiving, thin and hard enough that I could already feel the welts that it would leave. About four feet long, it had plenty of length for him to get a good swing in. When he whipped it through the air, the slicing sound it made me instantly wet, and vaguely terrified.
I was giddy with excitement as I laid naked in my bed, face down. "This is going to hurt, so we will ease our way into it," he said in his quietly dominating way. He elected not to use restraints. That kind of willful submission requires more focus on my part- I need to resist the urge to self-protect by covering my ass or moving away from his reach, instead taking a deep breath and surrendering to the next blow.
I felt his hand gently caress my ass, and shivered as goosebumps gave me away. When he landed the first spank with his hand, I moaned as my anticipation was rewarded. He let the colour in my ass build slowly as he oscillated between hard, crisp slaps and the slow trickle of his fingers across raw, red flesh.
When he was pleased with his effort (or perhaps when his hand started to ache), he switched to a particularly nasty flogger- long, leather strips ending in hard, tied knots. The thud and subsequent sting was deep and powerful. While a couple of the spanks had landed hard and made me flinch, the flogger made that more of a constant practice. I yelped with each impact and had to put my hands under the pillow in front of me to keep them from covering my ass. He allowed me to shuffle my legs, but did not relent in his task.
My ass was on fire, and each knot left a long, slow ache within me. The thought of the small, thin plastic was becoming a beacon of light. I was longing for a sting instead of a thud, which is exactly where he wanted me to be.
