Page 32 of Slippery When Wet

“Again,” I demand in almost a whisper.

Swoosh!

Her strikes caress my naked cunt. The suede ribbons slapping into my sex, causing the stinging fingers to pinch at my skin. I arch my back into the flicks, loving the sweet agony of pleasure and pain. My hands are not tied, or cuffed. They never are. I have mastered holding on to the reins or the ropes or the chains without removing my hands.

Swoosh!

Passion boils up into the pit of my pussy, then bursts out the tip of my clit. A huge tsunami of erotic heat crashes through me. My breath hitches. I am being swept up in another orgasm, my cunt spasming as I tremble and shake. When my climax finally subsides to gentle throbs, I reach in back of my head and untie the blindfold.

Our eyes meet.

I motion Sasha toward me with a finger.

“Now come lick my pussy.”

She slowly licks her lips, dropping to her knees. She eases herself between my opened legs, her breasts brushing against my inner thigh as she settles herself in position, then slowly laps over my juicy, cum-drenched sex.

A wave of white heat smashes against the walls of my cunt as her lips circle my burning clit and she suckles on it. I bite my lip as she kisses the mouth of my pussy, then laves it. Her cat-like tongue strokes become an extinguisher, and a soothing balm all in one. I give into the sensation, eagerly letting her tongue caress my pussy, my clit, and asshole. I come in her mouth.

When the flames subside and finally flicker into a smoldering heat, tender pussy exposed and still soaked from the lashings and her spit, I reach for the flogger in her hand, ease myself onto my heeled feet, then wait for her to take her place in the sling until her thighs spread and her bare pussy opens. I cuff her hands. Then grip the smooth, wooden handle. I twirl it over my head. Sasha will now become the floggee; the one being flogged. And I will now become the wielder, the one doing the flogging.

She has a very low pain tolerance, so it is important for me to warm her up, first. The more I warm her, the easier it is for her body to turn the feel of the flogger from a painful sensation to one that is pleasurable. The more physically aroused she is, the higher her pain tolerance. The endorphins pumping through her body will keep her from feeling a lot of pain.

Her safe word—a simple word that alerts me that our play exceeds her tolerance for pain signaling me to stop—is Pink Panther. We’ve been together for close to three years and, so far, she’s never had to use it. The hope is, she never will. The objective for me, for us, is always mutual gratification. Not to whip the dog shit out of anyone. Flogging isn’t meant to cripple or maim. And it should never be done in anger. It should be approached with empathy, understanding, patience, and compassion.

Mmmm. Done right, flogging can be one of the most pleasurable forms of S & M, sadomasochism. I know it is for me. It is sensual and hardcore. And after a good flogging session, I haven’t met many who don’t fall in love with these tails.

I walk over to the table and reach for another flogger; one with buttery soft, suede tassels that fall in a gentle sweep from the base to deliver the most intoxicating sexual experience. Lighter-weight floggers, like the one in my hand, are used for the tender parts of the body, such as the breasts, inner thighs, and genitalia. Sasha enjoys when I deliver light, wispy strokes, like that of slender fingers lightly caressing and arousing her sex. Its wide falls are almost impossible to inflict trauma, and leave little to no marks or bruising. And they are scrumptious warm-up whips for either a long session, or as a variation to foreplay.

Swoosh!

She lets out a low moan at the first stinging swat. A stinging kiss. It is a soft blow delivered to desensitize the skin, and to trigger her body’s endorphin response to the pain. Slowly, I increase the tempo of the swats causing her to cry out. She begs and pleads and screams. Her head snaps back.

Pain gives way to pleasure.

Swoosh!

The leather tongues slice into her clit, then gently over her breasts. “Oh, yesssss…uh…uh…uh…”

I can smell her, her thick lush scent clinging in the air.

Swoosh!

Before every smack of the flogger, her hips shift, then lift to meet the fall of the flogger’s suede tongues. She pants and tenses.

“Oh, my swee

t, sweet, beautiful Sasha. Look how your clit flares. You like your pussy whipped?”

“Yes…oh, god, yes…I love it.”

Swoosh!

She yells out. Her juices splash out of her slit. Her body shakes. I can almost taste the tangy sauce that seeps out of her cunt.

“Mmm, look at that wet pussy,“ I say, gliding my tongue over my lips as I wield the flogger up and over.

Swoosh!

---