tagBDSMEthan's Grace - The Flogging

Ethan's Grace - The Flogging

byD_Lynn©

This is a short stroke-story based on characters in a series called "Amazing Grace". It is not necessary to read the other series in order to follow this story, but if you want more background on the characters, you'll have to look there.

The next short stroke story with these characters is called "Ethan's Grace -- Anal Edition" and will likely be posted in the Anal category.

Thanks in advance for your support and comments.


Ethan's Grace - The Flogging

I stared down at the flawless, creamy skin of her naked backside. Not a mark in sight, it was the most perfect canvas.

She's trembling.

I like it when she's scared. I know it's not so much to cause any real concern. It gives me something to work with. And I have to admit that her vulnerability gets me charged. It's a tribute to how much she trusts me. Granted, she couldn't move because I'd bound her to the spanking bench, but she allowed me to do it full-well knowing what I intended to do.

She belongs here.

I outstretched my hand and lightly caressed her skin to soothe her. The back of my weathered hand was at least three shades darker than her back. I wondered if my calluses felt rough against her skin. Did they remind her that I practice with a whip regularly? If I didn't, they'd be smooth as silk since I spend most of my time typing at a computer.

My caressing was working. Her trembling subsided considerably.

I love to play this body. Work it up to a frenzy and bring it back down again. Up. Down. If I wanted, I could tease this cunt to the edge of orgasm and back again. But that would just distract me from what I really want to do.

I kept one hand still on the small of her back as I reached over to lift the flogger from the arm of the chair. I bought the chair from John the same time I took that spanking bench off his hands. He and Melissa needed to sell off most of their playroom. It was that, or pay to keep them in a storage unit while their house was on the market. They were sternly advised by their real estate agent to remove all evidence of their lifestyle. And with Melissa being pregnant, they thought it might be awhile before they had space to dedicate to a playroom again. So, I helped them out.

Yeah, that's what it was. Purely altruistic; no thought toward your own enjoyment. Ha!

Running my fingers through the heavy tendrils of the custom elk flogger I held in my hand, I could practically smell Grace's anticipation. I'd given her very little information about what to expect. If I'd told her that this was going to be a sensual flogging, she might be squirming about, getting aroused at just the thought of it. What would the fun be in that? No, I wanted her to think I might cause her physical pain. Submit to that idea. Accept that it's my hand delivering all sensations to that body.

Fuck, this makes my dick hard.

I adjusted my dungeon pants for the third time since I strapped her down. The only reason I put them on was for effect.

Now they're tight as fucking hell. If I get much harder, I'll have to open the fly to keep from cutting my dick off.

I draped the mop of tendrils on her bare back and relished the shivers that ran through her from the cold leather. Her nervousness was already causing her skin to perspire, an early indication of a healthy endocrine system. I could still recall with perfect clarity the demonstration I got from my tattoo artist when I'd arrived in time to watch him finish the design he was needling between the shoulder blades of a twenty-something female. She was covered in sweat and goosebumps, the endorphin reaction to the pain; more active in women in men.

Someday I'll watch this body react the same way. Maybe we'll get there today.

I dragged the fingers of the flogger along her skin, allowing the full weight to caress her spine. It served to warm the tendrils as much as it focused her attention where I wanted it. Lazy swipes up one side of her spine and down the other. Then from shoulder blade, diagonally to the opposite hip, across her buttocks and up the other diagonal. I weaved one design after another, changing direction, changing pattern, but always at a slow, controlled speed. I had all the time in the world. The longer I performed this ritual, the more confidence she would have in my control.

It was crucial that she believed in my sense of self-control. I couldn't expect for her to allow me to control her unless I could demonstrate that I could control myself. And given my past, it would be difficult for anyone to trust my self control. Addiction is the calling card for compulsion. But Grace wasn't just anyone. She had faith. In me.

She's so much braver than anyone I've ever met.

I turned my wrist slowly over her buttocks so the strands slid down her inner thighs only a few at a time. Glistening wetness along her slit caught my eye as I was about to move to the other side. I gripped the handle of the flogger tighter so she wouldn't be able to feel my hand shaking through the tendrils. It took a lot of willpower to keep from stopping what I was doing to take advantage of her slickness.

A sudden wave hit my nostrils; the scent of her unmistakable arousal penetrated my senses and about knocked me backward. I froze for a moment and held my breath. I tried not to imagine myself tearing open my pants and ripping her in two with my steel cock. It would be so easy to do.

Not yet. Wait. Breathe.

I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to suck much needed air into my oxygen-deprived lungs. For a few seconds I just concentrated on breathing. In. Out. Deep cleansing breaths. In. Out.

Better.

I was calm again by the time I opened my eyes. Controlled. I continued weaving a path across her back, buttocks, and thighs, lifting the flogger a little more with each pass until I was holding most of the weight of it and she could only feel the tips of the tendrils along her skin.

Gooseflesh began to form and I heard her make a noise for the first time. A heavy moan.

She's ready.

Lifting the flogger and moving my wrist in a small circle, I brought the mop down onto the fleshiest part of her buttocks with a thud. I locked my gaze onto her body to catch any reaction. She was frozen in place. Tense.

I dragged the device over the spot I'd just mildly assaulted and observed her muscles release the tension they were holding.

Good girl.

I wanted to tell her out loud how proud I was of her, but I didn't want her to focus on anything but the flogger. There'd be plenty of time afterward for praise.

I lifted the device for another swing and watched intently. I knew it didn't hurt. The flogger was too heavy to sting. But this was her first flogging and she gets so easily startled. Her panicky brain could very easily convince her that she was being assaulted. I needed to take it slow until she relaxed more.

The second swing was better. She tensed for a moment but then relaxed on her own. I caressed her with the mop, anyway. I needed her to know that she was doing exactly what I wanted.

The following two strokes showed progressive improvement. Her breathing was normalizing, and she hardly tensed at all when the strands left her body the second before the strike.

I started a slow, steady rhythm of swings. Each one landing in a slightly different spot, but always adjacent to the previous blow. One heavy thud after the next with only a brief moment of silence between. I found myself falling into a hypnotic trance. Grace's breathing turned so heavy at one point, I thought she might've fallen asleep.

After covering most of her back and thighs, I decided it was time to zero in on her buttocks and increase the intensity to warming strokes. Ordinarily, I'd switch implements to do this to save my arm. But that would take us a step backward, as Grace would grow nervous again.

I'll just deal with the soreness tomorrow. This is worth it.

I swung the flogger in a larger circle, using more of my bicep to force it around and onto her ass. The thud was only slightly louder but I could tell the force was significantly greater by the rippling of her skin as the impact traveled along the underlying tissue. Her breathing changed momentarily, then resumed the deeper rhythm. I repeated the same stroke. Again. Again. Again.

I lifted the flogger to gauge how warm the area was becoming. She was already a deep calamine pink.

Don't you just love fair skin? It reddens so easily.

I resisted running my palm over the warmth. I knew if I did, I'd just chuck the flogger and get on with the fucking. I wasn't ready for that. Instead, I moved to the other side and warmed it to the same deep pink.

With the entire area warmed, the real whipping could begin.

Spreading my stance to shoulder width and angling my body to hers, I checked the distance for a full swing. There wasn't much science to flogging. So much simpler than wielding a 8-, 10-, or 12-foot single-tail whip. I had to remind myself, though, that I wasn't sending energy down a 12-foot bullwhip to a popper at the end. My wrist needed to remain stable so the ends of the flogger didn't snap her opposite thigh, causing a nasty sting and ugly red marks that looked too much like acne for my liking.

Summoning the full strength of my shoulder and back muscles, I round my arm and landed the heavy tendrils hard across the center of her ass.

She groaned and tightened her butt cheeks together for a few seconds.

God, how adorable.

Another round swing and a heavy thud on the same spot elicited a similar response. I paused to check her breathing. It was more shallow. She could feel the pain, I was sure of it. I'd instructed her to tell me when she thought she was getting close to her limit. So far, not a peep.

I checked my position for another swing. I had to consciously make myself do it. Sometimes when things seem so simple to me, I have a tendency to fuck them up. I couldn't afford to fuck this up. Not if I wanted her to do this again. And that was something I not only wanted, but needed from her. It centered me in a way that nothing else could.

I caught the mild whirring sound of the tendrils as they moved through the air. They must've been fanned out more than usual. Grace grunted when they landed on her ass. She groaned. Her hands tightened to fists in their bindings.

"Ethan..."

I paused and listened. She didn't want to admit she was nearing her limit so soon. I knew that part would be difficult for her. It seemed to be difficult for every sub. As if there were some leaderboard somewhere that showed the highest scoring subs at all times.

Subgirl87=500 crop swings HisSlut77=375 paddles DaddysGirl=75 swats of hard caning

How could you even judge such a thing?


"Two more, baby."

Grace nodded and sniffled. The last swing must've brought tears to her eyes. I hated to admit that there was something about that that turned me on. One of the first real whippings I ever doled out involved a sub who was really into pain. She would wail, though. She'd bawl her eyes out at the same time she was begging you to fuck her. I think I became conditioned to get hard at the first sight of tears because of that.

I delivered another wicked swing, just as hard, if not harder than the previous one. I expected her to protest, but she didn't. She took it like a champ, allowing the tears and snot to be the only evidence of her discomfort.

I had a difficult time gearing up for the last swing. My dick was once again painfully straining against the zipper of my pants in anticipation of finally getting what it wanted.

I managed to rotate my arm and deliver the final blow with almost as much intensity as the previous two.

I sucked in a deep breath and made myself meticulously smooth out the fingers and drape the flogger over the arm of the chair despite every bone in my body urging me to toss it. I'd seen a lot a Tops fuck things up at this point. They could contain their control throughout the flogging, but the minute it was over, they fell apart. I can totally see how that happens, because flogging in certain circumstances turns my dick to steel. And when that happens, self-control becomes shaky at best.

I unfastened my pants. The zipper fell by itself as my rigid dick nudged its way through the opening. I pushed the pants to my thighs and approached the bench until my bulbous purple head was seeking out her heat. She was even wetter than before. The moans I heard during the warmup must've been from arousal rather than from the soothing massage of the flogger.

God, she's perfect.

It didn't take much to slip past her slick folds. And then to glide home until my pelvis was resting against her beautiful reddened ass.

I placed both palms on her heated butt cheeks and she hissed in pain. This was where the real fun began for me. A simple squeeze would send a fresh wave of pain to her brain and a whole new endorphin release. Her body was covered in sweat and gooseflesh. Her blood was already rich with the neurotransmitter.

I took a couple of paltry thrusts to remind her that I was there. Her responsive cunt was usually johnny-on-the-spot with welcoming my cock. She was still focusing on the pain in her head. I should've known she would, being so introspective.

I reached up and took a fistful of her hair in my left hand as I twisted her face to the side. Then delivered a hard cock thrust, bottoming out deep inside her channel. I was immediately rewarded with a mild fluttering around my cock.

That's my greedy little cunt.

I kept hold of her face with my left hand as I squeezed her tender butt cheek in my right hand and thrust my hips into her again. The fluttering intensified about tenfold and had a definite throbbing rhythm to it.

Fuck, yeah. That's what I like. Milk my cock, baby.

Knowing she was about to pop, I couldn't hold back any longer. I swung my hips in a solid rhythm, thrusting my cock with everything I had as I kept a firm hold on her hair.

She cried out, yelping and screaming a litany of nonsense as her climax shook loose around my exploding cock. I emptied my balls in a series of bursts that had me seeing stars by the time it was done.

I released her hair and was massaging her prickling scalp before I even realized I was doing it. I rested my weight on my forearm between her shoulder blades, feeling relief and regret at the same time.

Relief from the nagging need to unload a shitload of cum. And regret that it was over so soon.

As my focus turned to the pounding heartbeat in my chest, I briefly wondered if it would even be possible to go much longer at that level of intensity. Surely I'd pass out if I did.

Grace was panting almost as heavily as I was. Her orgasm had been intense. Especially for her first flogging.

I love this woman. More than life itself, I swear.

Suddenly I was driven by a strong urge to release her from her bindings. As if there was an emergency. I focused all my energy on it.

I wanted to see her face. Feel her tender, warm lips on mine and her arms reaching around my neck. I wanted her soft breasts pressing against my chest.

I wanted to hold this precious gift in my arms and let her know how much it means to me. How much her submission means to me.

How much she means to me.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous06/13/17

Great story, this is the kind of thing my wife and I are just..

starting into. It has been mostly vanilla sex until now, but we are beggining to explore bondage.

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