Wanting To Whip Him

A quiet moment, my Boy and I alone together. He suggests I whip him later and I know, oh, how I know that I need to do just that.

Time passes slowly until we can, until other obligations met, he comes to me in frilly panties and I am waiting for him with my toys.

I pull his panties down and give him six strokes with a crop to warm us both up. Then I take up my flogger. It’s gentle enough that I know he can take it for as long as I can give. Then eventually I switch back to the crop. Harder now, this is meant to hurt.

It’s not enough. I don’t want to stop, I want to keep going. If I didn’t think he’d get bored I’d happily flog him for hours. I need to, I want to.

It’s my relaxation, my meditation. It’s our connection, our space, our time. It’s my way of saying I love him. I’m aching to pick up my flogger again soon.

Going Down To The Woods

There’s a little patch of woodland not too far away that we recently discovered. It’s a beautiful little place and although sometimes occupied by dog walkers or playing children during the day is often empty.

I met my boy there late one night. He knew I intended mischief although perhaps not what mischief. We set off into the woods. We had brought a light and it lit our way until I found a tree that met my needs.

I hung the light nearby casting a little pool of light into the forest around us. With my boy already topless I tied his hands with some rope and pulled them up so he stood against the tree. It was the work of seconds to pull down his trousers and strip him naked. I raised my whip and began to beat him.

We were alone in our pool of light and our moment. When I had left sufficient marks I paused to tell him he was my Good Boy, to stroke his warm bottom. He responded by wriggling it, sticking it out invitingly, and I wanted to accept that invitation. I grabbed my strap-on and buckled it on, lubed up and pushed my cock into him. His hands still tied, he had no choice as I raped him in the darkness of the woods.

Nobody came that way, nobody saw us; but if they had, I wonder if they would have stood and watched what we did that night. Because who knows what you will find if you go down to the woods.

A Memorable Date

I took my boy away, to a hotel, where we could express our love as we pleased, as we needed to, where we could be ourselves.
I needed to hurt him, to keep hurting him and that is what I did; this poem tells you just how much.

Whipped

Sonnet V – A Memorable Date

Tenderly I at first caress your skin,
You stand, my naked boy, for me to touch.
Then take I up my whips, my cane so thin,
This is love’s kiss; let it be not too much.
Sixty seconds doth each long minute make
But measure we alone in counted blows.
Each stroke requested and with love you take,
Given with pride, we do not care who knows.
Six of the best could never be enough
To show each other just how much we care,
Each stripe upon your skin is not too tough,
When knowing  who it was who placed them there.
And all that love poured out ‘twixt us in pain
Bonds us as owned and owner yet again.

© Caitlin 2013

Remember Me

It was simple enough. My car was at the garage so I had asked Mat to drop me off at work. It was a little out of his way but he could drop me off, head off himself and return to pick me up without too much disruption to his day.

As my work day ended I began to pack up my things slowly. I didn’t rush, I knew Mat might be delayed. Still, he might also have been waiting until he knew I had finished my work. I texted him.

“I’m ready when you are” – no worries.
“For ? ? ?” – the reply was surprisingly quick.
“For you to pick me up” – had he forgotten me?
“I’ll be there in a few minutes” – yes it seemed he had…

When I got him alone later my aim was clear. I wanted to make sure he remembered this. With him lying naked face down on the bed I was going to whip him. I started with a soft belt and my hand. Gently at first, there was no rush.

“Do you remember me”? I asked him.

His response was as cheeky as I expected, goading me deliberately. Did he not think I would hit him hard enough? I intended this to be memorable.

I continued spanking him then moved on to the long crop to whip him in earnest until he assured me that he did remember me.

“Let’s try another memory test” I suggested “can you remember your safe word”?

The strokes fell thick and fast now. He began to squirm. Twisting his body to get away. I put my hand on the small of his back and continued. His guesses were as random as might be expected but I didn’t need to let up now. He could stop me if he wanted to, all he had to do was remember.

Finally, with perfect timing and subtle grace he showed me that he remembered. One phrase, one happy and satisfied Domme and one very sore bottom.
I checked by having him sit down for a moment on his scratchy mat, his face twisted in pain said it all. Yes, that would give him something to remember me by for a little while.

I wonder if he’ll forget to pick me up again?

Before The Flight

He had to make a short business trip. He would be away only two nights. His Domme had asked to see him before he left.
“Come by on your way to the airport”, she had told him “with at least an hour to spend with me”.

He turned up promptly as arranged. He was smartly dressed in a grey suit that he found comfortable for travel. His Domme looked at him admiringly, he did look good dressed like that but there was no time to waste.
“Strip” she commanded simply.
He obeyed quickly, folding his clothes neatly as he took them off and leaving them on a small stool on one side of the room. Continue reading “Before The Flight”

A Need To Hurt

I need to hurt my Boy.

I need to find a place, a time when I can just relax and let go and hurt him.

I need to be more than gentle. To give him more than those teasing spanks where his bottom wriggles eagerly for the next one. More than the hurried dozen strokes before something else intrudes on our time together.

What I need, right now, is to hurt him. To cause him pain. To hurt him until he wants it to stop. Wants it to stop but doesn’t stop me. Taking each blow willingly for me.

I need him bound. Committed to what is to come. Helpless to prevent it. Knowing that there is no ending until I am spent, until my love is played out in full upon his flesh.

I need to hear him crying out in pain. I need to hear his love spilling uncontrollably into the air. I need to hear his anguish. I need to hear his breath, sobbing, as he begs me not to stop until I am satisfied.

I need to hit him. Again and again and again. I need my arm to ache with tiredness and to force myself through my pain to add to his.

I need to leave his body marked and bruised. I need to know the fall of water in the shower, each casual brush of fabric against flesh will remind him for days what I have done to him. I need to see him wince as I run my hand across his flesh.

I need him to know that he is mine. That his body is mine to hurt. I need him to know he is owned, possessed and used. I need him to be willingly offered to my desires; given to my needs.

I need him to know he is loved. More than words can say or flesh can show. More than any single moment can hold. More than all of this.

I need to love him and I need to hurt him.
Sometimes those two are the same thing.

Finding The Time

Recently I whipped Mat. It was enjoyable, satisfying but brief. So often I find, time is the biggest constraint of all.

Mat is my bitch, all the time, but that doesn’t mean I can just wade in and hit him without warning (naturally I’m excluding the odd swipe for being cheeky here). He and I both need to be feeling our places, feel the relationship in place, before we can strengthen it with play.

Sometimes I wonder that we ever find the time. To start with the two of us have to be together, physically. Then we both have to be feeling reasonably well and not too tired (how many evenings is that in itself too much). Then we need to know that we have time alone. Interruptions, distractions all make focus difficult, even inanimate ones such as having household chores to complete. Then, and we are nearly there, we need time to shed the cares of the day. To get ‘real world’ business sorted so that we can focus on our D/s relationship in the moment. Then we need time to touch, to talk, to take ourselves together into that place.

If we reach that point then he is mine and mine alone and I can indulge my desires and fulfill both our needs to be our kinky selves.
I can brandish whip or paddle, and watch him lying still, taking the pain I give him. I can listen to his delightful whimpers and thrill to their music. I can be his Domme. But then too soon, the real world intrudes again and the moment is over.

Much of this is inevitable but I cannot help wondering if there is some way of making the process of reaching that moment quicker, to maximise our time there. What would get Mat and I there quicker and more easily? What would give us more time to play?