2022-05-13 - Session with Tim

Posted on May 13, 2022
Word Count: 1631

Comments 0

I think the most frustrating part about our planned play sessions is the waiting. We have dinner. We talk. We eventually head to the bedroom. All I’m thinking about is after all that ends and I truly love just hanging out with Tim but not when I have a play session waiting for us. Not when he had mischief in his voice when he picked out the toys I was to bring over. I expected I was in “trouble” tonight and was excited and nervous and above all, impatient.

Tim was actually in a cuddle mood, so after dinner we just laid down on the bed to cuddle and talk. He’d pulled off most of my clothes but left me in my panties and camisole. Sometimes he removes them later, sometimes he doesn’t; whatever he wants. We talked but I was getting anxious and impatient. After a while I finally just started biting him because I was frustrated. I don’t bite Tim hard because I know he wouldn’t like it, but soft play bites are enough to get him to take action. Depending on his mood he either just pushes me away and prevents me from biting further, or takes more serious action. It’s always a gamble but usually pays off in my favor, either way.

I fully intended on biting and not letting go, but I never seem to be able to hold on. It seemed effortless the way he pulled me off by my hair and before I knew it he was on top of me with his arm around my neck and his elbow right under my jaw preventing me from biting. Or moving much, really. He proceeded to continue cuddling which of course was much more interesting since I was pinned pretty efficiently.

Of course, after a while I got another chance at a bite. Which I took. I was immediately restrained again, but he let me go after a moment and stood up, ready to get serious. I remained on the bed, on my back looking up at him and we talked for a few moments while he got himself ready and finally went from normal chit-chat tone to that . . . serious dominant tone. He told me to roll back over and suddenly there was no more rebellion left in me. This is what I was waiting for, and I was about to get it, like it or not.

I did as told and waited. He started by rubbing my back, the goal being to relax me before hurting me. I always felt it was a bit of a dirty trick, because as much as I loved being touched, I was still anxious about the upcoming pain no matter how good that rubbing felt. Well. It did feel pretty good. And I melted into the bed, anyway, relaxed.

He pulled up my cami but didn’t remove it this time. He picked up my heavy but very soft deer leather flogger. It’s very loud so it can be jarring just from the intense thwack sound it makes when it strikes but it takes time to build up to any real pain. It’s heavy so when it gets to that point it feels hard and deep. Light hits at first . . across my ass, my back, my thighs. And slowly the pain built as he warmed up and started hitting faster and harder, and soon every strike was pulling a cry from my lips. I don’t suffer quietly; I’m extremely vocal and he loves to make me whine, moan, and yell out. It entertains him to see what noises he can cause me to make with the toys. He loves to tell me how much he loves the noises I make and I love to hear it.

I think next was my heavy hard cow leather flogger, over 100 tails. It’s extra long and can go across the entire length of my back. The tails are thin and stiff. The weight brings good thud but the tails light everything up with sting. He started with a couple light strikes but very quickly had gone quite harder and faster and I was squirming and had gotten considerably louder. The pain felt bright, like lightning, and it built on itself with every strike. It was mostly a surface pain from the thin tails, but the heaviness from the flogger carried it deeper.

He moved on to my braided flogger. Not as heavy, and made of soft deer leather, each of the 18?20? falls were 4-strand round braids, terminating at a thick decorative knot at the end of each tail. Those knots are very harsh, and are felt deep under the skin. I remember him talking through how much he loved this flogger and how great of a job I did making it. He could just let it fall on to me, letting gravity do the work and I’d cry out. He could add just the tiniest bit of effort in and I’d make even louder more interesting noises. And I cried out as he provided me with examples for what he was saying. Over and over again, he’d hit just a little harder, just a little faster, covering my back and my ass with pain that felt deep and intense. He let it build, strike after strike, and then finally, a break, right as I was starting to think I couldn’t manage any more.

Not a long break, though. He had decided to mix it up and took a moment to pick out one of my canes.

After some warm-up strikes, he began a rhythmic tapping, not overly hard, but just hard enough to be difficult. And then he told me he was going to be doing this for a while and I just melted. At least, I melted as much as I could while I was in pain. But I felt myself getting rather wet just from the comment and had I not been squirming and grasping at the bed I would have been absolute putty for him.

The pain was manageable but difficult. Tap . . . tap . . . tap, a rhythmic and unending metronome of pain moving around my ass. I squirmed but stayed in place, mostly grasping at the bed as I did my best to endure. It was so incredibly hot for me knowing that this would be going on, and there was nothing I could do about it, just needing to suffer as long as he felt like watching me squirm and listening to me cry out. It felt like forever as I battled myself to just endure, just suffer and wait. But it also was over surprisingly soon and I almost felt disappointed. That almost-disappointment did not last long, though.

He gave me a small break as he rubbed hard at the sore spots, setting off a deeper, pleasure-pain moan. The cane always feels like it’s left the soreness so deep under the skin. But the caning wasn’t over, of course. Just that rhythm. He changed up the pace, moving faster like tap, tap TAP tap . . . mixing in harder strikes with softer ones but at a fast enough pace that the pain didn’t have time to die down between each strike.

He built up the pain and increased the speed of the strikes, finally ending with a hard tap that made me genuinely scream, something I rarely do, and kick both my legs up involuntarily in one of those stupid attempts to cover myself or something. I hadn’t meant it, of course, it’s just what my body decided to do on its own.

He came around to cuddle again and I mostly just laid there panting. We did talk but as I became less fuzzy I mostly realized . . . I wasn’t done. So I told him that and he got the biggest grin. He mentioned something about the other canes I’d brought but he hadn’t used yet, and I managed to quietly mumble out that he hadn’t really used his hands much. Grinning further, he got closer with a mocking, almost a sing-songy voice “is that your way of asking for a spanking?”
I buried my face in the bed, embarrassed but managed to get out “yes,”

He got serious again, “all right, ass up” and helped me into the position he wanted me in.

Worth it. My favorite pain. He struck hard and fast. Being already worked over and warmed up it was perfect. The vibrations went right through me, getting me ever more turned on with every strike. He pushed my legs open a little and struck right between them, several times rapidly, and while hard to endure, it got me even more wet. My cries had gone deeper, almost a moan. The exquisite mix of pleasure-pain.

He mixed in teasing my clit between smacking my ass, keeping me guessing as he kept going. He enjoys the tease, and so do I, because the unsatisfying frustration is also really fucking hot. I love that I only get to be satisfied when he’s ready for me to be satisfied. I know it will happen. He loves watching me shudder. As he moved from hitting to teasing me and back again, eventually he started to actually press in on my clit, serious about getting me off. And he did. I moaned louder and shuddered with orgasm and squeaked as he kept stimulating me and . . . and he didn’t stop. I continued to . . . squeak? Well that was an interesting noise. My body clenched and I squeaked and continued to do so repeatedly as he laughed at me until he finally took mercy on me and let my body finally relax, spent.

I was definitely done then.