The time came to get ready to go to the dungeon, and Kyle got his things together as I prepared my bag. I had on a dangerous fuchsia bra and a tight black faux-leather vest, along with a skirt that was far too short to wear in public and my long black Dom boots, and Kyle kept sneaking peeks and grinning like a very bad boy. A few weeks earlier we had picked out a beautiful harness for him to try out, but he was having trouble getting the plug to stay in place. I am nothing if not a considerate Sir, so of course I offered him my much-larger blue metallic plug that was sure to stay put (what can I say? I just think blue looks so good with his…eyes…) He wasn’t sure he could accommodate the size, but my boy came through in the end, even if it did mean walking with a bit more giddyup in his step. He pulled on a gorgeous shirt and jeans, along with that infamous belt of his and he looked really damn fine, if I do say so myself. I stood and stared, enjoying the view, but soon it was time to go, so I walked out to the car first, leaving Kyle to keep up with my bag so he could thoroughly enjoy the view, too.
On the drive to the dungeon Kyle was fairly quiet – I could tell that he was nervous, and I tried to reassure him by reminding him I’d be by his side the entire time. For my part, I was really excited – thrilled to be out with such a hot guy, eager to share his first time at a dungeon with him – and I think I may have been talking too much (so much for being one of those cool, confident, silent Doms…) When we got to the dungeon there was paperwork to fill out and then I showed him to the locker room to hang our jackets. He excused himself to the little boys room and was SO proud of himself for getting everything back together when he was done, he was grinning ear to ear. He picked up my bag (painfully heavy with chains and cuffs and paddles and my flogger and his subbie bag and all the other fun tools) and I walked him around the dungeon to show him the space.
We decided to start at the cross and I asked him to take out my toys and arrange them on the small table to the side. (I love letting Kyle put out the toys – it gives him a chance to think over the possibilities and gets his mind racing.) I stripped him to the waist and cuffed him to the cross (the eyehook was too high for him to reach, so I had to cuff him around the back of the cross) with his chest to the cross. I pinched and massaged his nipples until they were really hard and ready and I positioned a pair of clover clamps on him, watching the expression on his face turn from nervousness to pain. He swore a few times under his breath and bit his lip…it was beautiful. I tugged on the clamps a couple times just to hear him suck in air – I mean, of course, just to make sure they were secure and then we got down to business.
Well, I tried to get down to business, but then one of the clamps came off. Kyle’s face was a study in surprise and fear as I asked him if he had pulled it off on purpose – the poor boy knows well how unsympathetic I can be when he misbehaves. I squeezed and pinched a bit more, enjoying his silent torment, and then replaced the clamp with a cruel tug. Kyle is a beautiful man, but you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen his face when he’s trying to overcome his pain and roguish nature – his submission is always hard-won and all the more gorgeous because of it.
Before the clamp had a chance to betray him again, I picked up the flogger and got back to business.
I love flogging – it requires grace and rhythm as well as strength and endurance for both the top and the bottom, and I love the meditative space we each fall into. Kyle loves being flogged, too, and he responds with wonderful yummy sounds as his back arches and his muscles tense. I flogged his shoulders, his back and his ass, but then realized that his jeans were getting in the way, so I stopped to pull them down around his ankles (damn, that’s a sexy image.) I looked over to the table and saw the hood he had brought and tugged it on over his head, checking in with him to make sure he was ok with it. (Yes, some people get off on brutality and extreme ownership, but Kyle and I enjoy domination by consensus – there’s no point in me doing something that will push him so much we have to stop.) It’s a shame that cameras aren’t allowed in the space, because he looked so strong and sexy up on the cross. I flogged his ass, his thighs, his calves, going up to start over on his back and shoulders again. He bowed his head as I hit him, over and over, and his back was soon red with lash marks. I pulled out my metal paddle and pressed it to his skin – the cold made him jump and woke him from the meditation. Slowly I slid the hard, slick paddle between his thighs, teasing his cock while I kissed his back. I gave him a few whacks on the ass, but then switched to the leather paddle he had given me, because the metal one’s a bit too harsh to take for long. I worked my hardest to leave little star impressions in the skin of his ass, but the paddle wasn’t cooperating, so I had to hit him again and again, harder each time.
His back is strong and beautiful, but I was dying to work on his chest, so I uncuffed him and turned him around to face out. His pants were still down around his ankles, and the hood was still covering his head, and he looked gorgeous. I started flogging him, making sure to hit the chain between the nipple clamps occasionally so I could watch him jump and twist with pain. I paddled and flogged, keeping up the tempo for quite awhile, and then stopped to remove his hood. He blinked with the light and looked a bit nervous for a split second, but then stood up straight and shot me his bad boy grin. I continued to beat my boy, loving the way he looked me in the eye, challenging me, egging me on. That’s my sexy, handsome boy – no matter how much I give out, he’s always right there, begging for more.
