I went out on Saturday night and got a chance to play with someone I hadn't in a while (with D.'s permission, of course!).
Whilst the atmosphere could have been a tad more conducive to my headspace, (I was unceremoniously bent over the kitchen table in the middle of a roaring party with a tray of tempting cakes right under my nose), I certainly enjoyed it.
Various types of crops, canes and a flogger were applied vigorously to my backside and I typically found myself stamping my feet, growling and generally being a little brat, until my hair was yanked and a spare crop shoved between my teeth in order to shut me up.
As is so often the case when I play with this guy, it became a battle of wills - would he get tired first or would I break and use the safeword?
I think he knew I had won this round when he looked around to check whether I was okay and saw me happily munching on a doughnut. What can I say? It certainly tasted better than the crop!
Unlike those pretty, pale-bottomed girls you see in most spanking movies, I very rarely mark, even when receiving full-force strokes of implements. However, I was delighted on Sunday when I inspected myself in the mirror and saw a couple of lovely purple bruises and even a few cane tracks on my upper thighs. Even better than that, it is now Tuesday and sitting is still a tad uncomfortable.
Nothing quite like a sore bottom to sharpen your focus, is there?
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