Day 21 Orgasm 24

Excited. Next weekend I'm headed off to an event where a large group of kinky people take over one whole wing of a hotel and enjoy the weekend doing kinky things, attending kinky classes, and generally having a hell of a good time. Last time I attended one of these events, I got to top a man called "X". Here's what happened...

(I previously posted this on FetLife.com, but thought it a bit too BDSM for the blog. But you know, with Masturbation Month in full swing, all bets are off. I  get to just tell you what turns me on. And this does. Oh yes, this does.)

~~~~~~♥~~~~~~

Mmmm, the pleasure and the challenge of beating a dominant man.

I was so looking forward to that.

My pleasure was easy. I would use various implements to punish his well-rounded ass until he twitched, moaned, and cried out. For me, it was that simple.

The challenge of getting him past his dominance felt multi-layered and intricate, though. Not so simple. This wasn't his first beating; it had just been a very long time. But he'd been there, and I felt confident I could take him back. Carefully.

First, I needed to get the big guy lying prone on the massage table in front of me out of his head. I could tell he was nervous. I put his arms over the side of the table and tied his wrists down. I put my hands on his back and just held them there for a moment.

And so it began.

Repeated strokes of my flogger met his skin with a rhythm and a pattern that lulled and relaxed. His strong back wanted it, welcomed it. I watched him settle a bit, grow more still, even with the slight flinches from each stroke. The flogging started the melting, quieted his head and eased the flutters inside him. First layer, achievement unlocked.

The pacing was as much for me as it was for him. My crop called to me from the table and I ignored it. Not yet. Too soon. The tawse handle was smooth in my hand and the leather ends snapped satisfyingly. His back abandoned for the moment, I picked up many different tools and concentrated on his ass, still ignoring my crop. A thick leather paddle, a wooden ruler, and a silicone paddle were applied lightly and judiciously. Always I returned to the flogger when I felt resistance instead of opening.

Checking in, I put my mouth next to his ear and asked him where he was. A small shrug followed my question, and preceded the word, "Three". Ah, yes. I still had a ways to go. But the number didn't disappoint. Better to take this adventure a little more slowly than to rush him through it. There was so much to enjoy.

The time to start my conversation with his walls had arrived. I needed finesse, and the subtle interplay of intensity and sensuality, to conquer them, one by one. Walls that, once sweet-talked into coming down, would take his experience beyond a pleasant sensory beating, and send him flying. That's what I wanted. I wanted him to fly.

How many walls? Who knew. I don't think even he knew, until we got to each one. A rhythm emerged. The stair stepping began. Twitching, resistance, tension and then relief, acceptance and relaxation. Each time he let me in a little further and each time I put a little more strength behind whatever was in my hand. His walls started to fall.

I loosened the reins a little and picked up my crop (the one that had been begging for my attention from the table - Choose me! Choose me!). I took aim and deliberately hit him hard, once on each muscular cheek. The sting made him jump and cry out, both times. My crop had just clearly conveyed its message. Pay attention. I mean business. You will be tested.

From that point on, I was in the zone. My crop does that to me. I hyper-focused on the play between us effortlessly. It was all right there for me to see, feel, hear and play with. The game was at hand, of pushing him and soothing him, causing tension and relaxation, pain and pleasure. The dance was delicious.

My hands held his two reddened cheeks, savoring the heat, and he moaned. I ran my fingers over his skin, everywhere I could touch. I trailed a chain flogger over his hot ass and back periodically, the cold making him twist and take quick breaths. Then back to the flogger and other tools with less sting.

In my head, I worked to quiet the calls of my crop. It wants more, always. Insatiable. I temper my crop's desires with sound judgments regarding time and intensity. I keep the reins on, but always feel its beckoning. There is power there.

I checked in with big guy a few more times and got a four, and then a five. The last time he'd breathlessly given me a seven. After one more period of delicious sensuality, trailing fingertips and soothing hands, I picked up my crop and headed down to the foot of the table.

I started landing hard strokes on his lovely red cheeks. Every one overflowed with intention, and I did not give him any time to recover. Every one was intense. And every one pulled a sound out of him. A deep, loud roar issued from his lips each time leather met skin. Such a beautiful sound.

I leaned on his legs to stop them from moving and swung each stroke from my shoulder, fueled by my desire to hear those roars. For a short time, a time that no doubt felt much longer to him, I lived in the between space. The anticipatory space between the impact of my crop and the powerful roar that surfaced from inside him in response. It was a physical and auditory dance that thrilled me.

He worked so hard to accept what I gave him, and did an excellent job of it. His body became briefly rigid with each stroke as he dealt with the pain. Finally, I paused and moved to the side of the table, my hand on his back and my voice in his ear.

"I haven't heard a yellow, yet..."

"Oh my God! Yellow! Yellow! I forgot!" We both laughed. My hand rubbed his back.

"And where are you now...?"

"Eight." He was breathing hard.

"Mmmm. Nice." I murmured.

"So now, the only question that remains is...do you want me to take you to your red?"

He laughed and answered quickly. "No, I think eight is good for this time."

He started to raise his head and upper torso up off the table and I ordered him to lie back down. I trailed my fingers over him and gave him some time to just be, to enjoy the wild sensations swimming through him, giving him a glow and a smile as the heat in his ass radiated throughout his body.

Again, my voice in his ear. "Now, what kind of aftercare would you like?"

"Ohhhh...." his voice was soft, "I think I'll be alright." I frowned. Still face down on the table, he couldn't see my frown. I just beat the crap out his ass and did my best to take down his walls, and still the conditioning of society was his first, automatic response. The big guy who usually took care of others was asserting from a clearly endorphin-filled place that he could take care of himself. Well, of course he could, but...really?

"Okay, look. I just beat the hell out of your ass and I am here offering to give you whatever aftercare you most want...this moment will not happen again. You want to rethink that answer?"

"Ummm...well...some cuddling would be nice....yeah." His voice was low, as if it were hard to admit. I smiled.

"Nice. You got it."

His eyes were shiny and he had a big smile on his face when I finally allowed him to get up off the table. He was a little unsteady as he pulled his clothes on. I took his hand and we went to the aftercare room. We cuddled up on a single bed and covered him with a blanket. He commented on the novel sensation of being the little spoon. We snuggled and talked in low voices.

Eventually we got up and returned to the dungeon. He gave me a long hug goodbye as he thanked me for the experience.

Me? I felt privileged to be allowed to paint that canvas. His trust was a gift. His opening was achingly beautiful, the way it always is with the big, strong guys who are always in control. That's my bliss.

But best of all... I got him to fly.

~~~~~~♥~~~~~~

So that was January...and X and I have taken things a bit further since then. We enjoyed a fun-filled night together a couple of months ago. I got to explore that big guy a little more thoroughly and...deeply.  I got to hear him moan and catch his breath and make all kinds of yummy sounds. Next weekend I get to see him again. So last night I was thinking about playing with his body once again...next week. Yeah.