The rhythm of the strokes

I've only met you at l'Alambic, so the beginning of the session is naturally a little different /in this new place/ but very quickly, you make me undress and then take hold of my belt. The leather makes a characteristic sound, revealed in your hands. My expression, you say, awakens your baser instincts!

I'm not sure this isn't something I'm going to regret, but I would have hated it if you'd told me my expression left you indifferent! So I'm going to take a shower and stand before you trembling!
Marthe enters the scene!

Marthe has to put on her cage with her hands tied and blindfolded. It's easier for me than you imagined. Perhaps it has something to do with my poor eyesight, which has accustomed me to doing things blindly. Then you tell me what's in store for me. Clean up the room, taste the St. Andrew's Cross and then do some experiments in the medical area.

So I start cleaning, first mocked, then beaten with a hammer. I concentrate: one width of floor after another. I'd risk a comment on the accumulation of dust and dirt on the floor, but the hammer blows dissuade me from opening my mouth. Provocations are for another time!

With an ill-managed sweep, I knock over the dustbin. The punishment is immediate. Leaning against the wall, the whip falls on my buttocks, my back, my thighs, my whole body. The blows are heavy, deep, sometimes a little stinging, sometimes more caressing.
A blunter swift takes over, then your hand and finally the return of the heavier swift.

The blows follow each other to the rhythm of the music. I hardly have time to think that your arm must be suffering so intensely that I'm carried away by the rhythm of the blows and the music, by the sensations of pain and pleasure. I can feel the sensation building up, a sensation that has sometimes brought me to orgasm during a spanking.
I give myself over to this pleasure without thinking of anything else.

The music stops and so does the banging. You lead me to the Saint-André cross. Without a word. Just a few impulses on my back, on my shoulder to guide me, to turn me.
Here I am, tied with my back to the cross! Arms, legs, then the whole body. I know at this point that I'm powerless to free myself alone.
My fate is yours. And yet, despite a few threats, I can't suppress a smile when the fan falls to pieces in your hands!

The blows rain down again, scathing or heavy, strong or caressing. The rhythm is different. Belly, nipples, thighs and even a few blows to the testicles. The apprehension is strong for the latter, but no extreme pain brings me out of my state. A few blows from your closed fists also drum on my chest.

It's hard to describe the state I was in at the time.
The alternation between the blindfold and the view.
Alternating blows, pinches and caresses.
Alternating fast and slow rhythms.
Alternating between muffled, deep or scathing blows.
Abandonment, the feeling of belonging to you, or at least of being your plaything.
The feeling that the session has deviated from the planned course and that you're dancing in front of me to different rhythms in a controlled improvisation.

Your fingers in the gaps between the bars of my cage, then a plug and vibrator replace the impact of the swifts. The rise of pleasure continues. The impression that all the blows I've received have opened my body and mind to pleasure, and that suddenly all that pleasure is refocused under your fingers.
I fold with pleasure!

I've lost track of time when you give me permission to come. I make the moment last. Each wave is an orgasm that brings me ever closer to the ultimate climax, and you have to threaten to revoke my authorization before I decide to cross the line. The wave, brutal, is so extraordinary!

It will take a bit of post-orgasmic torture to start bringing me back to the real world.
It will take a few gentle swings of the hammer for me to unfold again and come to myself and then to you.
My head will spin for a few minutes.
My body will feel the effects for a few hours.
It will take a few days for my mind to return to its normal state.
My smile never fades. And when it does, all I have to do is think back to those moments and it comes back.

 

Testimony of F.