Master teaches a BDSM class at the local library on Thursday nights. This past week, he brought me along to assist him with a demonstration. Tonight’s topic was one that made me break out in a sweat, and my submissive little cunt drip; whipping. I love the way Master kisses me with his nine tail leather whip. He’s never gentle, and always quite precise with his blows. It drives every inch of me absolutely wild to be at his sadistic mercy.
The stage was set, a raised platform in the center of some chairs. Many chairs, in fact. Up on the dais was a St. Andrew’s Cross, and he nodded at it expectantly. I was dressed in nothing but high heels, which thankfully meant he couldn’t be whipping or caning the bottoms of my feet tonight. I trotted over, obedient, to the cross, and let him strap me up. My view was of the cross alone, my head with no movement. I heard the room fill, and Master started to speak.
He explained the basics of the Saint Andrew’s Cross, and the use of the whip to stimulate the senses and generate orgasms through pain. I was dripping visibly already, as he came and used the whip handle to play in my wetness. I moaned involuntarily, humiliated. Then, Master started to whip me; hard. He worked over my body with such precise aggression, I was moments away from cumming. Master completely lacerated my entire back, my thighs, my ass, my tits. He let the whip bite me again and again. And, again and again, I came from the pain.
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