Then she started hitting harder

Callista looked me in the eyes; her eyes had a cool intensity
that bored into me, her hair short and black. She was a little
shorter than I, but that didn’t matter.

I was the one wearing the cuffs. She lifted one of my arms and
connectedit to the chains which hang from her basement ceiling.
“How much have you done?” she asked.

“Not much,” I said. We’d exchanged some email, had a few chats
online. There wasn’t anything substantive she didn’t know
already. And few or none of those games included pain.

She took my other arm, “What do you want to do?” She latched my
left hand to the other chain.

“I’m not sure.” She looked me in the eye, weighing me with her
eyes. I was naked, chained to the ceiling in her basement. My
wife and another woman were sitting behind me, quietly watching.
She knew what I meant: Show me the way, find my secrets — the
ones that I don’t even know yet. And more importantly, I trust
you to do that, and keep me safe.

She kept looking into my eyes, judging me. “What is your
safeword?” she asked.

“Safeword.” I said. I’d read her rules, and that was what it
said. She nodded, satisfied, and walked behind me.

I closed my eyes, and waited.

This was why I had come. To be right there, right then. Why
I’d pushed to make that 7-hour, 400-mile drive.

Oh, I had other plans, sure. But I’d known of Callista for
a while. Then in early December came to know her better,
to trust her in a way I wasn’t sure I could trust myself or
even Marie.

We were friends, and we were about to do something that
called for more than friendship. At least for me.

But I wasn’t apprehensive. I didn’t have huge expectations.
I was just open, comfortable and ready.

The fact that I was naked and people were watching didn’t
affect me. I knew it, I was acutely aware of it. That one
was a stranger; that one was my wife.

But with my eyes closed, Callista away, I was alone.
Just there.
Ready.

She walked up to me, and back around to my front. I opened my
eyes as I felt her approach. She stood in front of me and ran
her hands over my belly and chest. I could feel her nails as she
dragged them over my skin. She hit several ticklish spots, and I
giggled. “Are we ticklish?” she asked.

I blushed, and nodded. Marie said, “He’s very ticklish,” from
behind me. Of course, if I was that ticklish, it meant I was
comfortable. And I was.

She put her hand on my chest, and I swayed a bit. “Spread your
legs.” I did. “More” she said. I widened them to shoulder width.

She ran her hands up and down my chest and over my belly. One
hand ran over my nipples, tweaking lightly. “Nothing special
there?”

“No.” They aren’t normally very sensitive at all.

“We’ll change that.” She walked away, and then back. This time
carrying a couple nipple clamps connected by a chain. She put my
left nipple in one, clamping it down. It was sharp, but not as
sharp as I expected — clothespins had been sharper when I’d
tried them on myself. Then she did the right, and adjusted the
one on the left.

“This may hurt,” she said, warning me. It seemed incongruous at
first, given what she had been doing. But then I realized, it
was a difference between purposeful pain, and unplanned. This
would be unplanned, thus the warning.

She pulled on the chain gently, and I felt the tug at my nipples.
“Better?” she asked.

I smiled at her. “Better.”

She put her hand on me again, and I adjusted my hands to hold
onto the straps of the cuffs. “Move your feet wider.” She
brushed them with her foot. I spread them further.
“More…There.”

She pulled on the nipple chain a little, and walked away again.

I was acutely aware of my nipples then, but it wasn’t a
strong feeling. It was more like a light breeze that only
touched me in one place — well, actually two places, but
you can see my meaning. It stood out, but just a little. I
was starting to understand what I had been waiting for.

That morning I had woken up with a raging hard on. OK, so
maybe that’s more than you really wanted to know, but it’s
relevant. I hadn’t masturbated in several days, and while
we’d planned to make love several times, we never got the
moment alone, and rested. And the part of the weekend
leading up to the morning had fed my fantasies and arousal.

The play party was tonight, and that was the real reason I
had come. Oh, I’d had other reasons, to be sure.

And those goals had already been met. I still wasn’t
sure if the weekend trip had been worth it -canceling the
party with James, maneuvering to a place far from home,
maneuvering at work. It was about break-even, and could go
either way still. But things were looking up, both in the
metaphorical and literal sense.

I thought about turning to Marie, and doing something about
it. That’s what she’d told me to do in the morning, but I
could tell she was tired, and needed her rest. And I
thought, grabbing myself, and yanking a few times, there
could be advantages to keeping the arousal high, and not
doing anything at all. So I got out of bed.

She walked up again to my side, and touched me on the chest, and
pulled on the chain a little. Her hand slid down my front to my
cock and balls, and she played with them a bit, pulling,
squeezing, bringing me to hardness. I closed my eyes and enjoyed
this familiar sensation.

She stepped behind me then, and I felt the play of a flogger
lightly hitting my back, over and over. Lightly brushing with the
tips, warming me a little as it passed. She worked it from my
shoulders, down my back, and just barely touched my ass with it.

Then she started hitting harder. Hitting my back and ass, and I
felt it thudding. I wasn’t ready for that. It thudded against
my back several times, and I closed my eyes and tried to
anticipate the blow. I think I even moved away a little bit.

I still didn’t know what she was hitting me with but it hurt.
And not in a good way, really. It made a strong thud against my
back, and that wasn’t good. I took a deep breath, and steeled
myself to the next blow. I winced as it landed, not as hard as
the last, but still a surprise. I wrapped my hands around the
heavy chain I was connected to, and waited for the next blow,
and hoped it would be on my ass, or maybe gentler.

She walked around me then, and looked at me. I looked back at
her. Her eyes flicked up and down my body, and she said, “I
don’t appreciate stoicism. You need to let me know what hurts,
and what feels good.” I nodded.

Then she walked away again.

It took a while before Marie got up, or anyone. I took the
time to write in my journal about the day before, how Marie
had expressed an interested in BDSM, in domming and so
forth. It was a new thing for her to be so interested.

But then her path isn’t through pain, really. She never
could hit me hard enough to *hurt* with the flogger she
made. The noise always got to her.

When she did get up, she wanted to go shopping, so we did.
In the car we talked about that night. “So,” she asked, “do
you want to go down into the scary basement tonight?”

“Yes. If it doesn’t happen, I’m OK, but I *do* want it to
happen.”

“Do you think Callista will do it?”

“I don’t know, I hope so. I hope you’ll be down there with
her.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” my wife said. “I just
can’t take the sound.” I felt my heart and hopes fall; had
she led me on the day before?

“Yesterday you seemed..”

“I was just playing with it. Maybe. I’m not sure.” I
realized then, she was attracted to it, but not sure. I felt
a twist in my stomach, since I’d been there before.

When she walked back I felt something different against the skin
on my back. This I recognized. The koosh flogger. It thudded
against my back, and wrapped around and stung my side with the
tips. I grunted “ouch,” and leaned forward, supported by the
chains.

“‘Ouch’ is not a safeword,” I heard from behind me.

“I know,” I said. She paused. Then she hit me again this time
on my ass. That was good. The little stings wrapped around my
thigh. “Mmmm,” I said.

Then she hit me there again. And again. It still stung. Then
harder. It was almost too much, but not quite. Hovering on a
balance point between good and bad. Then she hit me harder. Too
hard.

She wanted better feedback. I had to let her know I would
respond. “Safeword,” I said.

She walked around me laughing. “Safeword?”

“It was too hard,” I said.

“But will it always be too hard?”

“Probably not.” Always is a long time. “Let’s use yellow for that
instead.”

I nod. She rubs my back and ass, and pulls on the chain.

Then she walks away again.

“I don’t want to force you into anything, Marie,” I said.

“I know that, honey.”

“It’s just that…”

“What?”

“Heather said something to me when we broke up. ‘You made me
like this,’ she said. ‘all that BDSM crap.’ But I *know*
it’s not true, that’s what she was like, it was the way she
lived her life.”

“You can’t make someone different than they are, Bill. If
she did that, then that’s what she was like.”

“Thanks, honey.”

And then I wondered, “What are *you* like, honey?”

The next time she walked in front of me. She grabbed my balls and
pulled, then the same with my cock. “Does that hurt?”

It didn’t, not in a bad way. “No.”

“Really?” she said. She pulled on the chain some more pulling my
nipples taut. That hurt. Surprised, I said “Ow.”

She pulled the clips off. She ran her fingers over my nipples —
now incredibly sensitive. She tweaked them, and I gasped.
“*Now* they are sensitive,” she said. “Yes,” I gasped out.
She chuckled.

She glanced down, “I can tell you like it.”

Then I realized something. *I* couldn’t feel my cock. I couldn’t
move
my hands to feel it or squeeze it, it wasn’t pressed against
anything and certainly not inside anyone. I didn’t actually know
whether I’m was hard or not — but she *did*. She had a better
handle on my arousal than *I* did.

She started slapping my ass with her hand then. She was close; I
could feel her behind me. And her slaps felt good, very good.
Nothing else had felt that good yet. Except maybe when she was
touching my cock.

She came beside me then, one hand rubbed my ass, the other
caressed my chest and belly. “You like that.”

“Yes.” I couldn’t lie, even if I *wanted* to. “Yes, Ma’am,” she
said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I repeated.

She pulled on my balls again. “I could probably hang three
pounds off of this, and you’d like it.” Three pounds sounded
like a lot. I wondered if she’s going to do it. I hoped so.

“Or I could fuck you in the ass, instead. Which would you
like?”

“Yes. Both.”

She slapped me on the ass, and walked away again.

I took a deep breath as she walked away. What was she going
to bring back this time? I had no idea. Half of the bits of
leather on her bench were just that to me — bits of
leather. They could have any purpose at all.

They could be three pounds of weights. She could bring that
back. She could bring that back, and put it on my balls,
and they would stretch and pull, and.. I hoped she would
bring it back, and do that.

Who knew what she would do? I didn’t know, and I’d given
myself over into her hands. And I trusted her, and that was
comforting, and exciting.

When she came back the next time she checked my hands, and
reminded me to hold onto the straps. Then she told me to bend
over. “More,” she said, until I was bent over in a way so that I
wasn’t really supporting my weight through my legs. Just
balancing,
between feet and chains which held me up.

She hit me with something in the ass. It stung, it felt good.
“Mmmm” I said.

Then she hit me harder, “MMm”. Then harder still. “Ouch,”
escaped my lips.

Then again she hits, and again, then again, just right, “Mmmm”.
And harder, “Ouch.”

Mmm. *thwap* Ouch. *Thwap* Mmmm.

She stopped for a moment, and turned to her audience, at least I
thought she did. She ran her hand over my ass. “It’s nice and
pink, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is,” came Marie’s voice.

“Not red enough,” Callista replied, and turned, and begin hitting
me again. I began sighing again.

Mmmm. Ouch. Mmm. Mmmm. Ouch. Then again a few times, and I say
nothing, it’s not really good or really bad.

She stepped up to me, on the left, and said, “If you say Mmmm,
I’m hitting you harder, if you say ouch, I’m backing off.” I nod,
having realized this.

“Communication,” I think, “is key.”

She hits me really hard, “Ouch,” I think. “Mmmm” escapes my
lips. Then again, and I think “Mmm,” but I say “Ouch,” and take
a deep breath in. She stops for a moment. I’m standing again,
having moved through all of this. I don’t remember how, but
she’s had to correct me at least twice.

When she steps around, I see what she’s hitting me with, that I
like so much: it’s a crop. I remember looking at one at Night
Dreams, and deciding against it. Too scary. But now, she’s
tapping my cock with it: not hitting too hard, but enough to
sting. It feels good. I go “mmmm”, and smile.

She smiles back, but doesn’t hit me so hard it hurts there. Just
enough to keep me interested and going. “You like this?” she
says while she hits me.

“Yes,” I say, just loud enough for her to hear it.

She hits me a bit harder, “What?”

“Yes, I like it.” I say louder.

She hits me again, “Louder.”

“YES I like it!” I say.

“Better,” she says, and walks away again.

I took a breath, and thought. “Maybe this time she’ll get
the weights” I adjusted my arms on the straps, and stood
there, thinking.

Marie was still back there. I hadn’t been sure if she’d left
or not. She had threatened to, if it got too much, and I
suspected that it had. I hadn’t noticed anyone come or
leave. Not that that was special, when Callista was there,
beating me, I didn’t notice anything but her, and the blue
wall in front of me.

I felt someone approach, but it wasn’t Callista. When she was
close, she touched me, and I knew it was Marie. She kissed me on
the neck, and a thrill passed through me. She slapped me on the
ass, almost as hard as Callista had been, and I sighed happily.

“How would you like it if *I* did this?”

“I’d love it.” I would, the energy from her was even more
powerful than what Callista had. It was the connection, the
love, how well I *knew* her. She was my wife.

She hit me with both hands, on each asscheek, and said, “I can’t
do this.” She turned to Callista, “He’s all yours. I just can’t.”

She walked away, Callista walked up, taking her place.

This time she didn’t have anything to hit me with, except her
hands. She started spanking me hard, and I started sighing into
it. Almost none of that was bad. Then she walked around to the
front, and began playing with my cock again, pulling it, and
squeezing it and my balls.

Then she started slapping it. I looked down, and watched it swing
and sway as she hit it with her hand. I looked at her and she
smiled at me. I think I smiled back.

She stopped for a moment, and ran her nails over my body again,
and rubbed my face. “How would you feel if I slapped you?” she
said.

“I don’t know,” I said. So she did. And again and again. My
head jerked to the side as she slapped the left side of my face
over and over. That was good too. I sighed for this, too.

She returned to my cock then, and hit it a few more times. Then
she tweaked my still sensitive nipples, and pulled on one with
her teeth. I gasped out loud, then. She did more touching,
pulling, squeezing. A caress here, a pain there. Overloading my
senses.

Then she walked away again.

I don’t really desire being slapped. It’s not something I
think about. But there was something about it that was
good. I didn’t mind it. Then when she did hit me, it felt
good. I was just standing there, and she was hitting me, and
I was getting off on it.

I wasn’t going to come, not like this, not without some sort
of stimulation of my cock, but it was good in a very strange
way. I didn’t completely faze out, I was very much *there*
for it, but it was good.

Callista checked my hands again, and they were cold — the cuffs
were cutting the circulation off some, so she took me down, and
undid the cuffs. I turned around, and realized most of the party
had come downstairs. I walked over to where Marie sat, and
Callista stood.

One of the other Domme types who hadn’t been there when I
started, said “I think you should kiss both of them on the hands
for that.”

So I took Marie’s hand and kissed it. Callista stuck her foot
out and said, “I think you should kiss my foot.” I got down on
my knees, and bent down to her foot, and kissed it tenderly.
Then she stuck out the other one, and I kissed it too.

Oddly, I felt this moving me in a way as strongly as some of the
stuff while I was chained. It wasn’t as intense as the crop, but
it was about *power*, not sensation. And I knew that if allowed
this fantasy would be as powerful as, if not more than what had
just happened. But I sensed that this was over, for now, and I
wasn’t sure that was where I wanted to go right then. So, I
stopped and stood up.

I felt naked for the first time, so I slipped on a shirt. It was
a sign for me that the play time was over, and it was time to
think. I sat for awhile, and thought about what happened, and
tried to piece together how I felt.

The most important thing I realized was I really did enjoy it. It
did turn me on. The connection with Marie made what little she
did *stronger*, but it was possible I could have that connection
fwith someone else, just as well. I’d only really known Callista
for a few weeks.

Later, when I had dressed and gone upstairs, she asked me what
I thought. I told her what I knew, “Every time you touched me
withyour hands it was good. No matter what you did. I don’t
like it on my back.” She nodded at both of these.

Eventually, things wound down, and we went to bed. I lay on my
back, and Marie curled up next to me. I was still horny, I
wanted to make love to my wife. Something. But she was tired,
and so was I. It had been a long day.

Marie ran her hands over my nipples, still very sensitive. I
gasped. “Now you know how it feels for me,” she said.

If it’s like that all the time, or even a lot of the time, it’s
amazing. I was rock hard again, of course. “I’ve got to..” I
said.

“Go ahead,” she said.

I started masturbating, careful to keep anything off of the
sheets of that strange bed. Marie moved her hands to my balls,
and played with them. My hand moved faster on my cock, “Squeeze
them” I said.

She did. I came.

I got up and cleaned myself off with some dirty underwear, now
even dirtier.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” I said.

“I know,” she said. There was a humorous, sexy tone to her
voice. It must have been quite a spectacle.

“I want to do it again.”

She gave me a hug, and we went to sleep.

(Visited 102 times, 1 visits today)