Whipping Post by Nikita © 2006
Tanya sounded annoyed. We were going to have a play session today, our first one. I called twice to make sure I had the time right. The second time I called, she asked me if restaurant was open for lunch. What? Open for lunch?
I paused before I said the next thing, "Uh, no. Did we decide to go anywhere?"
"Well, I have to go pick up my son from swimming and then bring him to art camp, so I have a small window. Pick a place close by."
Did she sound terse or stressed? I gave her several opportunities to reschedule 'lunch,' but she declined. Tanya said she needed to go out for lunch. So we did.
Lunch was in a French cafe. It was expensive for a couple of salads and 2 cups of coffee, but, wtf. Thirty minutes of small talk ticked by, and I was the most pleasant company in the world, attentive, distant at times, but not openly submissive.
We talked about mundane things, then, she looked at me and said, "Weren't we supposed to get together to play this week?"
Did my body temperature rise a bit? Did she see the flush on my cheeks? If only she knew how my buns were twitching! Why was my blood hammering in my head?
"Why, yes, we were," I said with a soft smile on my face.
"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, "I do have some time for you...about an hour or so. What do you say?"
She suggested this several weeks ago, when she was certain her husband would be out of town. It was my first 'one on one' scene, with someone who KNOWS what to do.
"Sure!" I didn't want to sound like an over eager beaver.
I paid the check, tipped a little more than usual, and quickly left, following close behind her.
Tall, heavy headed, big leafed, sunflowers guarded the door to her house. She crooked her finger at me and I quickly ducked inside.
Tanya was chattering away like a monkey as she led me into her large living room. It was neat as a pin with everything in its place. The sun was streaming through the windows and I could see the pool outside.
She'd disappeared and left me to work my way out of the fog that was my mind. Tanya brought out her toys, put them on the coffee table, and tested each one on her hand. The 'baton' was a short black riding crop made of fiberglass. There was a longer riding crop that was the thickness of a walking cane. Little did I know, that a whippy little flogger that looked like a toy, would soon be stinging the bottom of my feet. I took a picture of the implements because I was certain not to remember this part of the lesson.
The tall, willowy redhead ordered me to kneel on the leather couch, bend over, and present my ass. It was at that point that the fog rolled in.
I wore a simple black dress, black g-string underneath, and black slides. My dress was pulled up over my bum and the sandals were kicked off. Her poodle stood at attention close to my face. At first she talked while she worked the crop in little taps all over my shoulders, upper back, and stopped above my waist, then, she moved onto my butt, thighs, and calves. By then, I had goosebumps and I wanted to jump out of my skin. She used the tiny flogger on the bottom of my feet and said it was bastinado. It was tingly at first, but then, it stung as if I had run across hot concrete.
As Tanya moved through the different toys and described what she was doing, her words were punctuated here or there with a sharp stroke or thud. Oh, it was heaven. I could have listened to her all day long. The intensity of the strokes increased and her talking decreased. She was moving rhythmically in a figure 8, evenly spacing and placing the blows. Blows? They were deep kisses on my skin, lasting ones that I'll remember for awhile.
The scene was rising and suddenly the phone rang. Tanya cursed and contemplated ignoring it for one second, but, she took the call. It didn't bother me because I was enjoying the smoochy puppy licking my ear. Life was good. She returned quickly, picked up where she left off, and took me even higher, alternating instruments and surprising me. At one point she put her hand between my shoulder blades to distract me, and pulled my hair with the other. Crap! That got my attention!
"Bitch!" I gasped with a smile on my face. With all seriousness in her voice, she said, "That's a mindfuck." It sure was.
It was time to check for bruises or marks. There were none except for a little red mark on one cheek. She was pleased. I couldn't care less. The next thing I remember is the phone rang again.
"Fuck!" she spat and stormed out with the baton in hand. I was getting kissy licks from the little dog again. Wish I could remember his name.
I could hear her exasperated voice while she checked something on her computer. It was the same caller as before, changing the first appointment. It was funny to see Tanya get so riled up. When she hung up the phone, she stormed back into the room and cracked that bat on the couch so hard, the dog jumped in the air. It was then I knew the best was yet to come.
Under her breath she vented about the caller and used that anger to intensify the scene, but really, she tenderized my ass. The baton, then the suede flogger, then the rope flogger, then the crop, I don't remember what else was on the menu, but I remember calling her a bitch again. .
Her breathing was hard and the pace slowed down. The implements stroked rather than struck. As her fingernails ran along my tenderized skin, it burned and I cooed. Then her palms ran over the same spots and I got goose bumps. I guess that is 'scratching' but I'm no expert. The goal was to bring me back down slowly. Tanya was breathing ragged, as if she'd run a quick mile.
"Did YOU enjoy it?" I asked. For some reason, I felt like guilty because it felt so good to me and it appeared strenuous for her.
She turned to me with a smirk and said, "Hell yeah! I just found myself a whipping post."
That was the nicest thing that bitch ever said to me.
