spare the rod
by Halcyon

Last night I was bound to a rack in the middle of a room full of people.

The room's lights had all been replaced by red bulbs. A DJ played Psy-Trance in the corner. Mattresses and cushions lined the perimeter of the hardwood floor.

The only furniture in the center of the room was the rack. A 7 feet x 5 feet metal square. Hand restraints hung from industrial strength chain.

When I entered the party, there was gorgeous blond tied up to the rack and being flogged. She wore only a G-string that showcased her magazine-perfect ass.

The man with the leather flogger was totally focused on her as he alternated between slapping and lightly dragging the leather across her skin.

The room was full of Fetish Beauty. The outfits were out of the slickest fetish mags. The bodies were pulled from Playboy. One woman actually *was* in the latest Playboy. Several others deserved to be. *Everyone* was sexy.

The theme of the party was masters and slaves. And not in a cutesy way. Many of the people there were deep into the bondage scene. Mistress Jacqueline, for example is a professional Dominatrix. It's her job.

Mistress Jacqueline was the one who flogged me.

I have seen plenty of erotica where women are dressed up in fetish gear. But it is something else entirely when they are wearing their own clothes…living out their own desires. These weren't dolls being dressed up. They were sexy women whose kinkiness started well beneath the skin.

Mistress Jacqueline is more beautiful, and more authentic than any Dom you've seen in a magazine. Awe-inspiring. And when you see her dancing in front of a bound slave, flogging reddened skin to the beat of the music, you see something so much more than an erotic show. It was sensual theatre. An artistic composition of sensations - fingernails, light touch, spanks, whips, ice, etc.

I was so intimidated by her presence that I could barely speak to her. It was my girlfriend that said, "If it would be your Pleasure, Mistress Jacqueline, I would like to offer my slave. He would very much like to feel your touch."

She asked me a few questions, looked me up and down, and said there was one person in front of me, then it would be my turn.

She asked if I was interested in electrical play. I hesitated before saying yes. She smiled and said, "I'll come up with something for you."

When I was cuffed into the rack, I wore only a black leather skirt and my white Doc Martins. She walked around me, pressed against me and toyed with me. I could feel her tight body through her vinyl bustier. She lifted my skirt up to reveal my bare ass.

And started spanking.

I was blindfolded, so I'm not sure what I was being hit with. A paddle? A hand? It hurt. Just when I was beginning to think I couldn't take it, she would ease up and caress me gently. Walk around my body and tease me. The second time she started on my ass, it was 5X as sensitive from the first rain of blows. I struggled to embrace the pain's intensity. The sharpness of the sensation was foreign. Like an exotic spice hitting my tongue for the first time. Then it got about as spicy as I could handle. I was wincing from the pain. I felt like I was being dragged along my threshold.

When she moved from spanks to caresses again, I told her that was about as hard as I could handle. "Okay. I'll take you down slowly…no electrical play for you, today." I felt a bit as though I had failed. Pain is a new thing for me and I'm still not sure how much I like it. I enjoy the bondage of it. I enjoy being an instrument to another's sensation symphony. My body being not steered from within, but directed from outside: Her whip a conductor's wand composing my experience. But I think I prefer the occasional cymbal-crash of a spank, rather than the cacophony of prolonged flogging. I'm more of a rabbit fur kinda guy than a paddle guy.

As I was still bound and blindfolded, she asked if she could take a picture of me from behind. "Your ass has some nice welts on it…it looks so cute."

"Of course," I said. I felt even more like a flesh canvas for her artistic expression.

She rubbed ice on my flaming ass cheeks as she released me. I was dizzy and disoriented. When the blindfold was removed, I felt the jar of a spaceship re-entering the atmosphere.

Tied up, blind, and living in pure sensation…it was like a journey inward. A journey to a place where my body, the room, the rent, my bills, and my todo list didn't exist. Only the next sensation…and the lingering echo of the last.

The next day my ass is still red and sensitive: The mistresses' touch still echoing through my shell.



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Photos by MissM
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Me and Ron Jeremy

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