Friday, June 6, 2014

Spanking A - Z Challenge: {F}logging

Okay here's the scoop, I've joined the Spanking Challenge A-Z. The idea is to start with A and make your way through the alphabet, a letter a day. So this is how it will work. I will post a new letter each day...except on Saturdays which is already full with two other weekly posts. By the end of the month, I should reach why not join me and root me on?  

A word of warning however...although it's not necessarily supposed to be sexually themed challenge - just an effort to get me blogging more frequently, Livvy may have other ideas.  We all know that rascally muse of mine won't let me get away with posting something mundane or platonic, so don't be surprised if most, if not all my posts have a sexual vibe to them. 

With that being said....lets welcome letter F! 

F is for flogging and what can I say about this wonderful experience? (Yes, I said wonderful) Let's just say my reaction to it my first flogging was an eye-opener. While I have a strong threshold for pain, what attracted me to BDSM in the first place was the bondage and power exchange.   I never thought I'd want a man to hit me. My father always taught me that I was nobody's punching bag and to stand up for myself.   So was I surprised when I found myself kneeling on my bed waiting for the first blow of the pleather flogger my DH had purchased. Hell Yeah!  Did I enjoy it....another Hell Yeah.  It tripped a mental release for me. My brain shut down and I was able to just live in the moment.  To merely be.  Hell as a writer I should have adequite words to describe how it effected me. I really should have. But sometimes, it's easier to write about another's feelings than one's own.  Which is probably why I am a writer.  

Perhaps Hark can explain it bettr....  


Diachi rubbed the handle over Hark's lower lip. “This lip is mine. If I want to see it raw, it’ll be me who does it. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Diachi nodded, then disappeared from view and in the process dragged the strands over his shoulder. The caress of suede against his sensitive skin was tormenting. He wanted to feel the dull thud of the many strands against his body – to enjoy the mingling of pain and heat that would ultimately push him into the dark place where he only existed. 

Behind him, he could hear the swish of the flogger as Diachi warmed his arm. Leave it to his Sir to be over indulgent in safety. “There’ll be no need to count off this time, Harkahome. However, you will answer my questions.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Dread filled the pit of Hark's stomach. He knew exactly what Diachi was hoping to accomplish. The man was truly diabolical. There was no way for Hark to protect himself once the flogger stripped him of his defenses. He would be at the mercy of his dominant once again. Part of him feared it, while another craved it. 

When the first blow landed and enveloped his right lat, he groaned softly. The heat was amazing. It had been so long since he'd experienced it. Two long years. He breathed through his nose as the next toss of Diachi's arm found his left shoulder. The heat wrapped around the top of the muscle to tease his collarbone. He relaxed into it, savoring each surge of sensation as Diachi worked each muscle group in his back. He was barely aware of the words of encouragement pouring from his dominant's mouth or his own halting answers as he responded to each question.

Wasn't he a fool for running?


Hadn't he promised to come to his Sir when the stress got to be too much? 


Didn’t he promise to keep their sub safe from all harm – including himself?


And didn’t he belong safe in his master’s embrace?


And wasn’t it his master’s pleasure to take care of all his needs?


Each question was answered with an unequivocal yes. But as the flogging continued to grow in its intensity, Hark struggled with the answers, pouring out his resentment, his agonizing desire at merely holding Diachi or Bryan every night; even the guilt he felt for moving on without Master George and Teresina. With each stroke, the weight on his shoulders lessened, until he hovered on the verge of the release he craved. 

“That’s it. Your body remembers who it belongs to, koibito. Let go. I’ll keep you safe.” Diachi’s words came as if at a distance. The next strike proved to be too much and tears ran down his cheeks despite his obvious erection. The pain and guilt which had been his constant companions disappeared as he tumbled into the comforting darkness.

©Dakota Trace All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

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