A BELTING FROM MISS H

Miss Hunter’s website describes her as “one of the UK’s top disciplinarians, with skills  honed over ten years of experience,” which sounds perhaps rather serious, rather daunting, for a birthday. What Miss Hunter’s website doesn’t communicate very well is just how very attractive she is (she’s too busy being fierce) or what a fantastic, twinkly eyed sense of humour can be present in her sessions.

When she joined Lilly and I, we were well into our extended celebration of my birthday, the atmosphere suffused with kinky sensuality. She spanked Lilly over her knee. It was unfeasibly erotic and very beautiful but I’m saving this scene for Sinful Sunday. I have an image of coruscating hotness and I can’t wait to share it.

But I’m going to.

Wait, that is.

Till Sunday.

But here’s just a bit of a tease for you.

Then it was my turn. We worked our way through various implements, both from Lilly and from Miss H and to feel myself becoming the creature of these two beautiful women was wonderful..

At the end of the session Miss Hunter gave me a belting; sixty blows from my own belt (I think sixty – I wasn’t counting but it WAS my 60th birthday).

I’ve had blows that have hurt more; my belt is both weighty and supple, but it’s no tawse or cane; however sixty is a lot and there was enough pain in this to drive me deep into a subspace from which it took a long time to return.

But, what has stayed with me is not the pain of it but the intense, almost unbearably intense, wordless interchange between us. Miss Hunter’s focus on what she was doing was absolute, like that of a baseball player: the belt always moving as she waited, her eye on the target; measuring the shot, then the sudden, cobra-like, coil-uncoil of her body, the unleashing of the full power of it into the swing of the belt, the pinpoint accuracy with which she wrapped its wide streak of fire around my backside..

Immediately, there was my explosive out-breath at the shock of it, the concentration to overcome my flight response, holding myself still through the impact then pushing my arched body back towards her; asking for the next blow, wanting it, needing it…..Begging for it.

Our gazes would lock, an unblinking exchange of power, a sharing of the intensity of the moment, each recognising something in the other.

And then her focus would return; once more she would move the belt backwards and forwards before the swing and the strike.

And again, and again, and again….

Bloody hell!

Only with Elita have I been in this deep with a Mistress. Lilly told me afterwards that it looked like I was having sex, and it felt like it. Pain, under the right circumstances is a sexual experience for me. But this wasn’t just “sexual”, it was sex; it was two people totally focussed on each other and on the violence of their physical and psychological interaction; testing each other, pushing each other, oblivious to their surroundings, oblivious to the other person in the room, oblivious to everything but each other.

This was not a fight or a battle. It was most definitely not a punishment. This was a dance, a wild dance of intense violence and repeated, synchronised moves and counter moves; a dance that left at least this participant drained, floating on clouds of endorphins, lost.

This is why I seek out CP sessions.

Not to be punished, demeaned or abused, but for the visceral, brutal, beautiful sex of it.

I love that Miss Hunter used my own belt for this. I’ve worn it since and enjoyed the memories triggered by its supple weight in my hands. 

 

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