All but one of my play partners hate the cane. Most are not keen on paddles either. But all of them love floggers. Which is good because I do too. In fact my floggers are my favourite toys. I love the variety of floggers that are available, the different ways you can wield them, the sensations the bottom feels, from softness and sensuality to stinging agony, and all points in between. I love the way in which I can use these different effects to mess with my sub’s head. Kid them I am going to give them a hard stroke and give them a gentle one. From the yell of pain I know that their brain has made them feel the pain they had steeled themselves for but which I hadn’t inflicted. Or the times I play softly, sensually, and see them drifting into subspace but bring them brutally back with a fierce stroke that cuts into the skin. In fact the opportunities for creative play for me as a domme are endless and the flogger gives scope that other hitting implements don’t.
I have four floggers, not counting the little one I made at the Kink Craft workshop at Eroticon a few years ago, and which I really only use for tormenting cocks. I have a suede flogger, a mixed rubber and suede one (my favourite which has a lovely feel in the hand and the perfect weight to do the work for me), a rubber one which is evil (the rubber tails are quite thick and sharp edged and really bite with a hard impact, and finally a knotted suede flogger which is a wonderful tool for inflicting torment on a sub whose backside is already well bruised. Often I start with a gentle warm up with the suede flogger and move up the scale of evilness before moving back down. Sometimes not. Sometimes I just want to inflict pain and get my kicks from the moans, the pleading, helpless looks. And then there are the times I just feel deep love for the man who has given himself to me for my pleasure and amusement and I just want to give him his kinky reward.
It is nearly 2 o’clock on a Saturday morning. The light is dim in the dungeon. We are the only people still playing. In a few minutes the club will close and we will head out into the dark, cold street. But for now we are here in our safe space. In this moment we exist only for each other. We have been playing for nearly an hour. He has take some severe punishment but I have now eased off. I flog rhythmically, resisting the temptation to give him a hard stroke or two to bring him out of his subspace. I slow down, gradually, the strokes become more and more gentle. It is almost as if the flogging has no defined end. Imagine the ethereal voices at the end of Holst’s Neptune. That is spiritual. This is spiritual too. The strokes fade to nothing, the throw of the last one too weak for the tails even to reach his skin. I put the flogger down. I caress his sore back, his bruised buttocks. I release him from the restraints. I hug him close. Alone in the dungeon we are two people in the moment, each in their respective high, bonded by the ineffable delight of the flogger.
A post for Kink of the Week. Click on the badge for other kinky thoughts on floggers