I WANT TO……

Lying prostrate on the dungeon floor, you look so vulnerable. The chains round your wrists and ankles, tied to cold steel uprights on either side of the space, both stretch you out and immobilise you. Your head is in a breathable black bag denying you any sense of where you are. Any sense of where I am.

I flogged you a while ago on your bottom and your back. I’d chosen a heavy flogger with wide leather tails and I can still see the red glow from the repeated heavy impact. Then I left you. Left you for a long time. You’d have heard me moving around, collecting implements, getting myself a drink, sitting down with my phone. You’d have been inside your own head, gathering your resources for whatever comes next.

The wonderful Peacock Parlour

But now you’ll be aware of me standing over you. I’m still. Watching you. Trying to sense where you are. I have a decision to make:

Push forward or release you?

More challenge or is it time for reward?

The dragon tail whip, or a glass of water and a sweet, reviving treat.

I cant ask you how you’re feeling without breaking the mood, or pulling out of the kidnap scenario you had wanted to play out. I have to rely on my own senses to make the decision on how much more you could take. How much more you would want to take, to make this the challenging, fulfilling experience that you were hoping for when we planned it.

But what do I want? What do I want, as the Dom in this hot little scene we have created?

I want to hurt you. Hurt you badly. I want to take advantage of your vulnerability and let my whip bite into your exposed flesh again and again until you’re crying and begging and squirming against the chains. Your vulnerability has triggered my inner sadist and he’s sat on my shoulder, urging me to get the single-tail bull whip from its hook on the wall.

But……

I want to wrap you up in a soft towel and tell you I’m sorry for having flogged you so hard. I want to whisper words of praise and wonder into your ear and sit you on the sofa while I make you a mug of tea. Your vulnerability has triggered my inner protector and he’s sat on my shoulder telling me you’ve had enough.

I choose move forward over stop. Challenge over reward. The dragon tail over the drink.

I whip you all over with it. But I do it with immense care, measuring each yelp, each squirm of your body, each shake of your head. I’m caressing you with it, using hardly any force, but all the weight of the wide leather body of the whip is concentrated into its fast moving, pointed end, and it will be stinging like a bastard. Cocooned in your soft hood, you won’t hear it coming, won’t be ready for it.

You’re breathing hard and on the edge of tears when I eventually stop.

I’ll leave you again now, still tied to the floor.

I’ll have a decision to make when I return.