u/Worldly-Wall-3717

His POV:

I look at her whipped body and feel my dick pushing against my jeans. I’d love to put her on her knees and fuck that sexy mouth, but she’s not into humiliation or group play, and since we haven’t agreed on any sex today, I let the moment pass. This time is all about her, as she has wished for a proper birching for weeks now.

“Let’s get on with it.” I help her up to stand. “Turn. Bend over.”

I like to keep my instructions short and clear, commanding but not aggressive — that’s what she responds to best, what makes her dripping wet.

She bends over, resting her elbows on the wooden bench, which makes her ass poke out prominently, as the surface is quite low.

I put my hand on her lower back and caress her butt with the other. It’s been a while since we last played, and the marks from the paddling are gone. Good. She needs to be fit, not sore. I spank her hard, alternating cheeks, while she counts out loud, as I’ve trained her.

“Good girl.” I feel her wet pussy for a moment and imagine fucking her, thrusting myself deep, pounding her relentlessly, until she couldn’t take it anymore.

I need to pull myself out of my daydream when Bear comes with birches and a bucket full of stones.

“All set?” he asks.

I give him a nod.

“And what about the cock?”

Mine is hard as a rock. But that’s not what he’s talking about.

I had actually forgotten about the cock, and I haven’t asked her if she wants to be fucked by Bear’s dildo. I clear my throat as I help her up.

“Would you like to be penetrated while I’m birching you? Bear has a dildo on a metal rod that he can fuck you with. If you want.”

She looks at me with disbelief on her face. I’m not sure if she’s offended or just baffled, but she turns to Bear when he comes and shows his creation.

“I designed it myself.” His voice filled with pride. “Moulded it into a perfect penis. It’s not too long, it won’t go too deep. When you’re stretched out, it will enter at a perfect angle. Only if you want, of course.”

“May I touch it?” She sounds curious, and Bear seems exhilarated. Bless him.

She squeezes the dildo, which is soft and squishy, and Bear turns it and explains exactly how it will rub her G-spot and make her come.

“So this only goes in my vagina?” she confirms.

Bear nods eagerly. “Oh, yes. Your Master will take care of your ass.”

Fuck, Bear. She flushes and nails her gaze to the floor, like a proper submissive for once, and my dick is about to burst my zipper. Now I definitely need to masturbate.

She clears her throat; she’s finding her voice again. “Yes, I’d very much like to be fucked,” she turns to me, “Sir.”

What can I say? Bend over bitch, and take this. I could fuck her for hours. And then I’d let Bear take her from behind while I shove it down her throat. Fuck, that’s hot. Although … I also feel like having her all to myself. How weird, as I usually love sharing my subs.

Now — focus.

“Good. Then lie down, and we’ll continue.”

She puts her elbows on the wooden bench, and I lift her legs, placing her on her stomach, where she needs to be. I strap the wand to her thigh again, then check her ankle bindings and attach the ropes to the winch once more. I do the same in the other end and make sure she’s comfortable.

Well, not comfortable — sufficiently uncomfortable. Her words. She’s so strange, but I love her affinity for discomfort and her affection for pain. She truly is one of a kind.

Fuck, I can’t bear this hard-on. I kneel down next to the table and look her in the eyes.

“Bear has hot stones to massage you with … is it ok that he starts with that. I’ll be right back.”

She seems at ease and confident as she nods. I’m glad she’s so comfortable with Bear — many find him too intimidating, but this woman is not like most of my subs. Still, I want to make sure she willingly and consciously agrees to everything, as I don’t want to fuck this up.

She’s my favourite play partner, and I think about her way too much. Even my girlfriend noticed, and the conversation did not end well when she confronted me about it.

Oh well, better cut my losses now before we commit to legal matrimony — that would have been a big mistake. But it kind of bothers me how things ended. She accused me of being obsessed with this woman. I look down at her and feel an urge to please her and claim her.

I’m enthralled with her for sure, but obsessed?

I see Bear spread oil on her back with those huge palms and ignore a pang of envy in my stomach, as I hurry to the little boy’s room. After a quick release, I head back and find her utterly relaxed while Bear pushes hot stones up along her spine. He’s talking her through everything he’s doing and sharing his wisdom, as always.

“Many find it easier to be stretched out this way … less strain on the shoulders at least.” He goes on. “It’s important for the muscles to be relaxed. Vibrations move through the body with much greater ease when the tissues are soft. Any strain will make it hurt more, the damage will be deeper and take longer to heal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I feel a sense of pride that she’s so well-behaved. It’s not that she’s rude in her way of being; she’s just naturally quite dominant, knowing her worth, and her inclination to please only comes out while playing. She’s not bad at following rules or obeying, though. I actually wish she’d be a bit more bratty or bitchy.

“I think we can tighten the ropes.” I watch her lean body lengthen as I turn the axle and lock the windlass in place. “Enough?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I love how she says “yes, sir” — it always evokes my carnal urges. That’s why I tend to ask questions she can answer with a simple yes. And a Sir.

“Clap for me.” She does as told, as the good girl she is. “Good.”

I trust her to be able to take a lot, so I’m not too worried. I doubt I would ever really hurt her, as she is not shy to stand up for herself. This woman will not go too far out of eagerness to please or pressure to perform, but when it comes to pain, I think she is too damn proud — she won’t admit, even to herself, when it’s too intense.

“You will clap before it’s too much.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I put the gag on her and the blindfold — it’s easier to stay relaxed when you don’t see it coming.

“We start with the flogger. Then ten at a time with the birch, like we discussed.”

She nods and slurs a “yeshir”.

I place a hand on her back — her entire being is at ease, her aura liberated, surrendering to enforcing powers, which will soon inflict sensations she’s been craving for so long. I love how eager, yet apprehensive, she is. She’s the perfect submissive masochist.

Bear has cleared away the oil and the stones, and as I look at him, he nods at me — he’s ready too.

I grab the big flogger and start flogging her back, moving systematically down over her ass onto her thighs, and then up again, adding more power to the blows. The way her body jerks, then softens and jiggles before tensing again, shows me how she’s loving it. This is her favourite flogger, and I don’t have to hold back much as she likes it hard.

That’s another thing I like about her — that I don’t have to be too careful, I can let loose and use some force without having to worry that it will be too much after one or two blows, lashes, strokes, you name it.

I do the same from the other side, and we watch her stretched out body respond — vibrating and letting out a low humming of pleasure.

I glance at Bear, whose eyes are glued on her, his pants bulging with a spot of precum forming. We should really organise a session where we get to fuck her brains out. I’m sure she would love that. However, I’m convinced she’ll be too tired after this impact session.

I personally think she has a much too romanticised view of what a birching feels like, but I’ll let her judge the experience afterwards.

I take the bundle of birch switches, we have three of them and a bunch of single switches, and smell their freshness. Bear has collected birch branches — which he has a little forest of in his backyard, especially grown for this purpose — and bound them into bundles this morning. The single ones are willow switches, also from his garden. He’s a man of many talents and knows how to clean the switches and strip them from early buds.

I can smell the sweet sticky sap. The new yearling branches are full of moisture this time of year, early spring, giving them a supple, flexible feel.

“The first few are harder to take, so we start slow.”

I can see her holding her breath, but still keeping her ass relaxed.

I don’t want to scare her, but prepare her, as I know she sometimes struggles in the beginning, before she internalises the sensation and the pain starts turning into pleasure.

There is “whoosh” as the birch cuts the air and a heavy thud-crack as it lands. Her muffled whimper and her skin blushing into several vivid pink weals tell me I’ve hit hard enough. With a bunch, the sting is more thuddy than sharp and crisp, the way she prefers it. It takes some time getting used to, so I give her another one and let her recover before giving her two at a time.

She jerks and pulls the ropes, lifting her ass, screaming into the gag. I put my hand on her back to calm her down.

“Good girl.”

She’s had four now, and her ass is blooming with deeper pink and clearer thin welts. I love how her pale skin reacts to impact.

I step back and give her two more, which she takes with grace, and another two, which make her wriggle and whimper. I put my assuring hand on her back again and rub her tense muscles until she relaxes.

“You’re doing great.”

The last two have more force to them, and she’s left heaving and kind of grunting and gurgling, and I’m sure she’s trying to hold back the tears.

I have a look at her heated buttocks, but the skin is a nice, deep pink, not yet broken or even bearing red weals. Those will appear during the next set.

I turn on the wand and let her come to terms with the vibrator teasing her swollen vulva. It amazes me how she can be constantly wet and slippery, despite us never really touching — not engaging in kissing or any other type of traditional intimacy. What turns her on is authoritarian commands and incisive sensations.

Before this scene, she explicitly asked for a severe punishment birching. She wants me to give her ten without interruptions, no matter what she says or does, which would be my ideal type of birching, but as she hasn’t experienced this intense sensation before, I’m not sure she knows what she’s asking for.

She has told me she wants to aim for four or five sets, but I haven’t agreed to a number, as it depends on the situation and her reactions. I still hesitate to give her ten in one go in the next set; perhaps 3-3-4 would be more manageable.

I walk over to the other side and place the birch on her ass. She stiffens and clenches her ass.

“Relax.” And she does. “Good girl.”

I give her three, and she fights the pain. I don’t mind her wriggling, crying, or screaming at all; in fact, I love making my sub wriggle, cry, and scream. But again, I want to be careful with her, as she’s so eager and things can go awry fast.

I put my hand on her heated, glowing ass and feel it shaking as she sobs. “Very good.”

It’s astounding how a little encouragement can lift you up and help you manage. After the next three, she’s crying audibly, and her entire body is shaking. It’s time to fuck her now, as I’m not sure how much more she’ll take.

I massage her pussy and find that she’s dripping.

“I’ll insert the cock now.” It’s more of an informative statement, but I still watch her closely — I think she’s nodding. I give Bear a nod, but he doesn’t look convinced. I push my fingers into her pussy and demand a response. “OK?”

She lifts a thumb, sobbing a little quieter now. I pull out my hand and guide the dildo into her as Bear pushes the pole.

“How’s that?”

She lifts a thumb again, and after pushing in and out slowly, Bear starts to thrust it in her with more vigour. She moans into the gag, and I’m sure she’s alright. She loves torture and being pushed to her limits.

I place the birch on her ass again. “Four more.”

As I administer the birch and Bear pounds into her, I hear muffled pleas and her screaming through the gag as she struggles to stay still. But she’s bound so tightly that there’s nowhere to go, no way to escape the punishment she asked for.

I toss away the birch and push my finger in her asshole, immediately feeling her body erupt. I signal to Bear to slow down and hold my other hand against her back as she shudders. I love her involuntary movements as she orgasms.

It was beautiful to watch how she arched her back as I hit her nipple earlier. The way she lets her carnal urges take her and lets her body respond in the most feral manner is truly extraordinary. She never fakes it or performs just to please me.

The shivering slowly eases, so I remove my finger, and Bear pulls the dildo out of her. She moans softly, and I praise her for doing so well. I turn off the wand, which is still humming, and pull off the straps — there’s no need for it anymore. I think she’s sufficiently shattered.

I take off the mask and her gag and squat next to her.

“Do you need a break? Or do you want to stop?”

She looks at me with somewhat puffy eyes, her face covered in snot and drool. “No. Give me more.”

I hesitate, although my crotch loves her response. “With the birch or a single switch?”

“A single one. Just give it to me.” Her tone is demanding, and she realises her mistake straight away — her stance changes instantly. “Please, Sir. Be so kind.” Her soft purring is much more to my liking, but I don’t know if I can trust her judgment.

She looks so sure in her eyes — at least the desire is there, even if she might not have the durability. I sigh silently. This is what we came here for. It would be stupid to waste the opportunity.

“You get five at a time.”

She nods vigorously. “Yes, Sir. Thank you—”

I cut her off, gagging her once more. We don’t have much time, or Bear’s going to be on my back — he has a max limit of 15 minutes turned this way, and when the time is up, the time is up.

I glance at him, and he nods in agreement, but I know I need to hurry. I grab a willow rod and position myself. It’s been a while since I’ve switched someone, so I don’t even know how hard to hit.

I bend it between my hands, making an upside-down U of the supple high-tension fibres. I swing it in the air once, and the hiss it makes affects both my cock and the body on the rack. She tenses her ass again, and I tap her lightly with the willow.

“Relax. I will only hit soft muscles.” My tone is strict, and she immediately relaxes, still holding her breath, hiding he face between her arms. I forgot to put the blindfold on.

I lash her five times, and the sound of the switch is like music to my ears, cutting the air with a whistle and causing a crack or pop as it lands. I love how her ass bends under impact, and the propulsion waves ripple through the tissues.

Fuck that’s hot. Her audible agony, only slightly silenced by the gag, is another arousing sound, and I’m hard as a rock again when I give her a break and move to the other side.

Her bouncy ass now wears several dark red lines, and the skin is about to break and bleed. She’s okay with shallow wounds, but I know Bear isn’t a big fan of blood spatter. I glance at him and see him stroking his crotch. Yeah … It’s both the visuals and the sound effects that do it for us.

I take a deep breath and look at the back of her head. Her hands are clenched into fists, and her shaking ass reveals that she’s sobbing quietly.

“Five more.” It’s not a question; it’s instructions for her to get ready, but she still lifts a thumb.

I lift my arm and start swinging, but I stop abruptly after four as Bear holds up his hands. His eyes are on her hands — her palms are pressed together.

I take a step sideways and look at Bear, confused. Did she clap? He shakes his head, but her high-pitched howling is a telling sign: We’re done for today.

I take off the gag and caress her head. Bear loosens the ropes in the foot end while I start to untie her wrists, gently talking to her.

“Hey … everything is fine. We’re done. I’ll just take these off so that we can get you up.”

She’s not responding, her whole body trembling, and I have a sickening feeling that it might have been too much after all.

As soon as the ropes are off, I put my arm around her. “Are you ok?”

Her head is nodding, but she’s not looking up, and I’m getting increasingly worried. Bear comes with a bucket of warm water and a cloth, telling me that the bath is running.

She finally looks up, her face a total mess, and I take the cloth Bear hands me. I wipe off the tears, snot and drool that she’s swimming in. She gets up on her elbows, and I quickly brush off the spray from the birches that lie all over. Bear hands me a small bottle, urging me to disinfect the wounds, though none of the red lines are actually bleeding.

“I’ll just spray a couple of places here …” I don’t wait for her response, but do it, even though she gasps and whines in discomfort. “It’ll be fine. Let’s get you up.”

Bear comes and helps me hold her, but as she steps down from the platform, her legs won’t carry her, and he picks her up like a rag doll.

“Gotcha. Your bath is ready.” He smiles at her and takes her to the room with the bath and the shower.

I stay behind and clean up the mess as fast as I can, but I need not worry, as she’s in good hands with Bear. When I join them in the spa room, he’s feeding her chocolates and holding a Coke bottle with a straw for her as she rests her arms and her head on the edge of the tub. She still looks exhausted, but her eyes are more alive — she’s regaining her energy fast.

This story continues 😘

Her POV:

I check my phone again and look around. I’m sure I’m in the location he sent me, but I don’t see him anywhere. We’re not playing at the dungeon today; we have something else planned — a special treat for him, and for me.

We’re going to a warehouse with some interesting torture facilities; not exactly a dungeon, but a place one can rent and where one can play, if one is into that kind of stuff — and boy, are we ever.

The owner of the place is a shibari master, and the warehouse has plenty of space for bondage in suspension and for whipping with full-length bull whips, the latter being of most interest to me. They also feature electricity-torture devices, different kinds of frames for restraining in all positions imaginable, and a torture rack.

That’s what I want to try today: being bound and stretched out on a rack, completely immobile, and getting a birching of a lifetime. I’ve never been birched before, but it’s one of those things I’ve always been fascinated by — something I definitely want to try.

I hear a “hey” behind me and turn. He’s jogging the last few metres and gives me a quick half-hug before urging me toward the warehouse door.

“Sorry, I’m late … we need to hurry. He doesn’t like it when people are late.”

He is a friend of my play partner, a rigger, who will give us — well, my play partner Z — a quick lesson in shibari. I’ve agreed to model, as I’ve always wondered what it feels like to be tied up with ropes. Z has been wanting to get back into the practice — he’s no novice, but he says he’s lost his touch and wants to go over techniques and knots with his friend.

When we enter the weird, hall-like, dimly lit space, I don’t see anyone. My playpartner knows his way around, knocks on a door, and soon he’s greeting a huge hooded figure, who embraces him in a bear hug. They approach me, laughing and joking, and I’m relieved to see that the long-haired and bearded Viking is not upset that we arrive two minutes late.

My play partner Z, whose real name I don’t know or want to know, introduces “Bear” to me. How fitting.

“This is Alice.” I look at the tall, broad-shouldered stranger, who reminds me of the Beast — I feel a little like Beauty next to him. I extend my hand, as I’m not sure I want him kissing my cheeks. He steps closer and takes it with the lightest of firm grips and kisses the back of my hand ever so gently. How intriguing.

“Alice … as in Alice in Wonderland? Really?” His deep, booming voice sounds genuinely curious.

“No, not really.” My lips curl into a smile as this bear-like character is so relaxed and friendly.

“Zack here has told me so much about you …” He stands up and turns to Z, towering over him, and Z punches him in the shoulder, annoyed.

I’m not sure the giant even felt it.

“I told you no names!” Z huffs.

Zack, whom I’ve only known as Z, whom I’ve secretly named Zeus as he has the body of a Greek god, seems to be good pals with Mr Grizzly, although he’s like a stick figure in comparison. I’m still torn about the rigger; I can imagine him as a cuddly, protective Papa Bear, but I can also picture him shattering windows with his roar when agitated.

There’s something charming about him and his solid (yet furry) aura that simply holds power. He oozes confidence, and I’m sure he never needs to dominate with intention. Yet, he manifests kindness and softness on the inside, which balances the outer appearance of pure, raw masculine strength nicely.

I realise I know nothing about him, other than “he’s a man of ropes”.

“Interesting. Z has told me very little about you.” I turn to look at Z, who wears a stoic expression.

He stares at me as if challenging me. “What would you have liked to know?”

“I would have mentioned … the size …” I nod toward the big guy.

Bear bursts out laughing, and a low thunder wraps around us — he’s like a Teddybear-Thor. I’m talking about the man, not his dick, but Z gives me a murderous stare.

Is he envious of his friend’s physical frame? I’m not sure.

Still chuckling, Bear shows us into the room he came out of. It’s an ample space with mats, cushions, and lighted candles, very much like a yoga studio, but with bars hanging from the ceiling. I’m not sure if the candles are here to set the mood, for their scent, or to heat, but the atmosphere is nice and cosy, and the temperature is rather warm.

Z flings his bag and jacket into the corner, and the guys go straight to the heaps and piles of ropes, casually chatting. I’m pleased that the big guy is so welcoming and kind, although Z did assure me that “he’s cool” — not uptight and narrow-minded like some d-types I’ve come across.

I kick off my sneakers, throw off my bag and coat and start to undress.

“So, Alice …” Bear says over his shoulder. “We can start with a few ties on top of —” But he stops short when he turns and sees me naked. “Or nude … is also fine.”

I glance at Z, who’s wearing a smug, approving smile.

Mr Grizzly clears his throat. “So, Alice … have you been bound with ropes before?”

I step closer and stand in position, feet hip wide, my hands resting on the small of my back. “No.”

Bear looks at me with genuine interest, not lust or any kind of weird superiority. I like this man.

He smiles at me. “Oh, it’s a wonderful feeling. Now … you only need to stand still and follow instructions.”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice is a soft purr. I momentarily forget about Z, but I’m immediately reminded of his presence as Bear looks over at him with a smirk.

“Well trained.”

Despite the condescending nature of his remark, I feel exhilarated and proud. I glance at Z, who appears accepting, though there’s slight tension in his posture, and I wonder what’s up with him. He has been uncharacteristically quiet on our messaging app leading up to this scene. Usually, he’s more engaged, but when I asked him if he wanted to reschedule, he assured me he was good to go. I’ve assumed that he might have some trouble with his fiancée, but I haven’t pried, as we don’t discuss our personal lives much.

The men start discussing ropes, knots and harnesses — I can’t follow most of it because I don’t know a lot of the terminology. I soon feel ropes on my upper body and immediately notice how firm, yet gentle and intentional Bear’s hands are, though he doesn’t actually touch me. Z’s movements are nowhere near this huge man’s skill and control. Which is an interesting observation, as I have been so impressed by Z’s skill and control using various implements on me. No one else has hit as hard and made me feel as ecstatic.

I mentally disconnect while the guys chat and bind. I only lift an arm or turn when told, and some ten minutes later, I’m wearing a chest harness with my arms tied behind my back.

Z steps in front of me and looks at mostly his handiwork. And my boobs. He asks Mr Grizzly something, and then they both stand there observing my breasts, talking ropes and knots and whatnot. My nipples harden, although funnily enough, I don’t feel very aroused. How strange.

I zone in again when Z talks to me — I think.

“This is a good one for nipple torture.”

I focus my eyes on him, unsure if he wants me to respond. He then clamps my nipples in between his bent index and middle fingers and twists.

I gasp out loud and get the message. “Yes, Sir.”

He gives me a funny look, and I wonder if he’s displeased with me. I try to be more attentive, but find myself focusing more on Bear, intrigued by his persona.

They partially untie me and do another one with diamond shapes, with my wrists bound into the harness in front of my body. I’m in my thoughts and surprised at how non-sexual, yet intimate, this whole setup is. There’s a certain serenity in feeling the ropes tighten and having my arms disabled. I’m often restrained while we play, but the feeling is completely different when my limbs are stretched out and attached somewhere, than when they are tied snug with ropes, close to my body.

Again, Z walks around me, admiring the pattern, before grabbing my hair.

“Bend.” His strict tone immediately changes the mood — I’m suddenly very much turned on.

I step a bit wider and bend my upper body forward. He lets go of my hair and slides his hand along my back, as if owning me. Inspecting me. Preparing me.

He gives me a few sharp spanks on my ass, making me gasp. I count them the way I always do, calling him Sir every time.

“Good girl.”

My insides bloom as he praises me, and my vulva is beyond moist now. It’s especially thrilling to be bent over and receive a spanking in front of the watchful eyes of Mr Grizzly. I keep my gaze down and don’t glance at him, but the mere thought makes me blush.

I remind myself to focus on Z. “Thank you, Sir.”

Z pulls me up by my braid, and I stand straight again.

“A lot can be done with ropes,” he says, as he takes the ends of the ropes that are dangling to the floor and puts them between my legs.

He guides the ropes into my folds, in between my ass cheeks and pulls. Oh, my. The ropes run along my swollen labia, rubbing the sides of my clit, even touching my asshole. He pulls ever tighter as he secures the ropes on my backside, and I moan quietly.

He halts in front of me and lifts my chin with the tip of his finger. I look into his eyes and find depths I haven’t seen before.

He’s more open, more exposed, more vulnerable than during our previous sessions. Something shifted last time we played; he pushed my limits — though not my pain tolerance — and made me feel so many things, so intensely.

I really like this man who evokes the most wonderful sensations within my existence. I trust him completely, and I’m convinced he wouldn’t hurt me, no matter how extreme the play.

He walks me over to a wall with pictures of different ties. He points at a woman hanging from the ceiling.

“Imagine being suspended like that. And me flogging you. Every time you move, you rub yourself … thanks to these.” He nips at the ropes going down to my crotch, as if they were strings. Synapses fire, and I feel a delicious warmth spread inside.

I could imagine that. I could also imagine being tied up in all these various positions, rendered completely immobile and being flogged or whipped. I love being flogged and whipped.

I glance at Bear, who is left in the shadows, organising ropes, and the hooded, dark, seemingly dangerous figure makes my heart stop. The feeling catches me off guard, and a thought crosses my mind for the very first time: How safe is it for me to be in a warehouse in a deserted industrial area with two strong men whom I’d never be able to fight off if they wanted to abuse me?

I’m starting to have second thoughts about all this, but for some reason, the thought also partially arouses me. My pulse quickens with real, yet exciting, exquisite fear, as I look at a picture of a woman hanging from a chain, bound into a neat, long package, being whipped by Bear.

I wonder how much of a sadist he is. He seems so soft and kind, but I’m sure he has it in him to inflict serious pain. He approaches us, and as if he’d heard my thoughts, he answers my question.

“Yeah … I love ropes, but the bullwhip is my baby. I’m also into torture of various kinds. Which is as little conflicting as deep down I’m a Pleasure Dom.” His voice is one of those that sound old and wise, and I don’t doubt him for a second.

My pulse slows down a bit, but the tension and thrill in my body remain. This man is decent, like Z.

I have so many questions, and I’m sure I could pick Bear’s brain for hours, but it seems inappropriate to be so interested in him. Z is not quite himself, but I can’t point my finger at what’s wrong, if anything. I’m sure he’s just stressed about personal matters.

“So, Alice. There’s no need to worry. I’m here to make sure you enjoy yourself. Securely.”

I’m momentarily stunned. Such an odd thing to say, out of the blue. Does he read minds?

“I don’t … worry.” I almost stammer. “I trust Z, we’ve played many times …”

“Of course.” Bear nods. “And I’ve watched him play many times. I also trust him. But we can all have lapses in judgment; we can get carried away or be so focused that we miss important cues … it is always better to have an extra set of eyes. For everyone’s safety.”

I stare at him, baffled.

“You’ll be … watching?”

“Oh, yes.” A fire lights up in his eyes. Now there it is — eager lust. “Most definitely.”

My insides stir. Z has not mentioned this either, which is odd, as he tends to make sure I know everything I need to know about our scenes. It’s always his priority to ensure I feel comfortable. Despite the initial mild disappointment with Z, I can feel my body aching for Bear to be there, observing, as I take the birch. I secretly wonder whether it turns him on to watch tied-up submissives being destroyed. It must.

“I’ve heard that you enjoy rather extreme impact play … especially on the behind.” His curious tone, his wide smile, and the twinkle in his eye all make me melt inside, which feels almost shameful, yet my swollen vulva starts pulsating. My brain is telling me I should be creeped out and worried, but my body is ready to throw caution to the wind and kneel to this stranger.

“I do …” I try to find my voice. “My ass would very much like to be birched … severely.”

I want him to know I’m here for the proper experience, that I want it all, even if I scream and cry, or show discomfort. His premature intervention, should that happen, would be extremely disappointing.

Z comes closer and gropes my ass, pulling me against him. “You mean my ass.”

I’m not sure what his sudden claim means. We have never delved into ownership, as I’m no slave, and yet, it makes little butterflies take flight deep within me, and I feel oddly submissive, in a way I usually don’t. My submission is a choice — a gift I give to very few chosen ones.

“Of course, Sir.”

I look up into his eyes — he seems at ease, but I still can’t help but wonder if he’s jealous that I’m hitting it off with Bear so quickly.

They untie me, and the anticipation is heating me up. Will I get to see the rack soon? I don’t ask and wait patiently while they keep talking about leg ties, whole-body ties, and suspension.

Finally, Bear leads us into another room with a wooden structure in the middle. It looks like a high bench or a low table, featuring cylindrical rollers at the ends and long wooden spokes for wrenching. I’m fascinated by it, and Bear shows it to us while explaining how it works.

I glance at Z and wonder how many women he has had suspended on a rack. I might have asked, but Bears’ words cut my thoughts.

“Miss Alice, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

I’m a bit taken aback by how he talks to me. I do like respectful communication, as I’m allergic to any misogynist slurs, even in a play setting, but Bear is over the top polite. I’m not sure how to respond and only manage to thank him.

I realise I do indeed need to use the toilet before beginning, and I’m grateful to him for being so considerate.

When I’m back in the torture room, Z has unpacked his things and tells me to lie down on my back, indicating toward the rack. I place myself on the hard wooden surface — it’s extremely uncomfortable. I like that.

I stretch out my arms above my head to see how it feels. Z orders me to lift a knee, and I look at him with interest as he puts straps around my thigh, wondering what they are for, but I soon get my answer when he secures the wand in place.

“Put your leg down.” His tone sends chills down my spine. I love it when he’s in commander mode.

When my leg is straight, resting on the table, he turns on the device, and the head of the wand buzzes against my swollen labia. Oh, my.

“How’s that?” He looks at me. “Close enough?”

“Mmm …”

He turns it off again. “You’re not here to enjoy yourself.”

“Sor—” But his eyes lock with mine. “Yes, Sir.”

I have to bite my lip to hide my smug smile. I’m totally here to enjoy myself.

Bear and Z start tying columns around my ankles. When they’re done, the ropes go through a hole and are attached to the windlass, which can be turned to stretch me out.

They do the same with my wrists, and my arms are pulled up above my head, stretching me enough for me to be out of my comfort zone.

“Sufficiently uncomfortable?” Z’s dark humour never fails to make me smile.

“Yes, Sir.”

Bear shows him how to operate the rotating winches and lock them. Then he moves into the shadows, out of my eyesight. Z tightens the ropes, but I’m not completely stretched out. Yet.

Mr Grizzly states that we get ten minutes. Ten minutes? How much can we do in ten minutes?

“We’ll start with a light massage.” Z smirks at me — I wonder why. What’s the catch with a massage?

He drips oil on my upper body, and I hold my breath. I’m brought back to last time when he dropped hot wax on my chest and boobs. I enjoyed that session more than I could have imagined, and chatting with him about it afterwards has brought us closer than we’ve ever been. Until his sudden silence, that is.

He starts spreading the oil with his fingers, as if they were brushes. It’s almost tickling. Soon, his movements become more massaging, and the pressure he applies grows stronger as the tips of his fingers push into my muscles.

He slides up and down my abs, chest and sides first, then around my breasts, and over my nipples, pinching them between his fingers. The blood and moisture rush down to my throbbing vulva as I gasp.

Z drips oil along my legs next and massages it into my thighs and shins, including my calves, working from both sides. I relax thoroughly and jolt when he moves over to my mons pubis. He strokes my pelvic area, rather than massages with pressure, and I relax again, only to inhale sharply when his hand slips between my legs.

His strong fingers are between my folds and spread the creamy lube I’ve produced.

“Always wet. And needy.” His voice is scolding, and a flash of oh so delicious disgrace rushes over me. However, it’s intertwined with lust and pride, and I smile shamelessly.

Suddenly, his fingers push into me and massage the inner walls of my vagina. I moan loudly, and he pulls his fingers out and pinches my clit. OMG!

Then he’s done, but I need more. “Please, Sir, don’t stop …”

He’s shaking his head. “No pleading today. You will only get what I give you.”

My horny pussy is ready to explode, and I’m about to say something, but he pushes a ball gag in my mouth and secures it. Where did that come from?

He did tell me he’d gag me today, and I’ve mentally prepared. We’ve agreed that whenever I’m gagged, clapping is a stop signal — two claps for “red”.

“I think we can stretch you a bit more …” Z says and rotates the winch.

I feel my body lengthening a couple of more centimetres.

“Can you move your hands?”

I straighten my hands and clap lightly.

“Good.” Z runs his hand down along me, and stops at my thigh — the one with the wand. “We’ll start with the flogger and then move on to the cord, not to waste any time.”

He looks at me, and I nod, trying to vocalise a “Yes, Sir”, but it comes out muddy due to the gag.

He clicks on the wand — I feel it vibrating against my swollen lips, in between my legs that are now closer together. Oh, mother …

He immediately starts flogging me, soft at first, but rapidly increasing the intensity, moving down my legs, and up again, now over my stomach, toward my boobs. He goes down and up once more, striking from the other side, before pausing.

“Let’s get to business. Ten. Hard. On the boobs.”

He looks at me as if to confirm, and I nod.

The first one takes my breath away, and the second follows immediately, making me scream. The next two land over on the other breast, but the tails of the floggers bite into my sensitive side so aggressively that I keep screaming. I get one more on the other boob, before he checks in on me.

I don’t usually scream so early on.

“All good?”

I’m heaving. Drooling. Trying to gather myself while he walks over to the other side.

I nod and mumble, “Yesh, Shir.”

“Five more.”

Again, I get two and two and one, but this time I’m able to take it without screaming through the gag, even though it fucking hurts.

“Good girl.” The praise gives me strength, and I brace myself as he takes the bigger flogger. “Ten. On the thighs.”

He moves over to flog my thighs, five from one side and five from the other, and I’m about to scream after “four”, but I hold it in me. This flogger has longer, more rigid tails, and it’s usually my favourite, but without much warm-up, it leaves my skin heated and sore.

My body trembles when he takes a break, and my breathing is shallow. I can feel the welts forming on my thighs, and wonder how red they are. I watch Z rotate his shoulders and stretch his neck.

“Well, now my arm is warmed up.” It sounds like a joke, but no one is laughing. “Bear will assist a bit, as we don’t have too much time … he’ll only touch you with the suction device. Ok?”

Z locks his eyes with mine, and time stands still for a moment. He genuinely cares about my stance — I’m sure of it — and I nod.

“Good girl.”

He puts a sleeping mask over my eyes, and my world goes dark.

“You’ll get a few on your abs and then five and five.” He touches each of my breasts as he explains. I nod again.

I feel a nervous knot in my stomach, as I have never had the cord on my boobs before, but he has assured me I can take it. The wand is still buzzing against my pussy, and I feel like I’m dripping onto the table.

“Ready?”

But he strikes before I nod, and the cord snaps at my stomach with a nasty bite, making me scream. Another one follows, and I’m howling. Fuck!

The fear creeps in. Is he going to whip my breasts that hard?

I get two more on my stomach, from the other side, and I start to get used to the sting, but I still dread what’s coming next. My heart is racing as I wait, but thankfully, I’m gagged — I’m sure I’d be pleading with him to have mercy otherwise.

I jolt as he touches my breast, first groping one and then the other, pinching my nipples once more.

When the cord lands on my boob, a shockwave zizzles through me. It’s like every nerve-ending fires at the same time and doesn’t stop, as the next stroke cuts my skin straight away, on the other boob. At the same time, a rubbery sucking little thingy is pushed against my clit, and I howl.

The sensory overload quickly brings me over the edge — I have no control over my body.

When the cord lands exactly on my nipple, my world erupts. The sparks light up before my eyes, and I’m seeing stars on a velvet canvas. My entire body tenses and stretches out even more, if ever humanly possible. Inside, the tsunami keeps pounding my depths as I get more lashes on my other breast and nipple, and the cycle of ecstasy repeats.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

I feel like I’m drowning in these overwhelming sensations and keep screaming and heaving until eventually, after what feels like eternity, the big waves die out, and only small splashes remain.

“Good girl.” It’s Z somewhere far away, or perhaps whispering into my ear, and I’m the one floating above the clouds.

I feel the ropes loosening, and soon both the eye mask and gag are removed, the wand gone as well. I’m blinking, getting used to the dim lighting, as gentle but strong hands help me up. They turn me so that I sit on the edge of the table, my legs and wrists still bound, but hanging freely.

“What do you say?” Z’s voice is strict.

My voice is gone, but I manage a whisper. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He smiles at me, flashing those perfect teeth. “How was that?”

“It fucking hurt.” My hoarse voice masters more power.

Bear chuckles. “Not as much as the birching will.”

I look over my shoulder as huge bear-like hands massage oil into my shoulders and upper arms, and only now do I feel the strain they’ve been subjected to. I’m amazed by how gentle yet firm his touch is, and I’m so grateful for his kind treatment and caretaking. The way he touches me is not sexual in any way.

“How are your arms? And sides?” It’s Bear, from behind. “It’s important to take a break and let the muscles relax and joints rest.”

I mumble that I’m ok, while I turn and watch Z kneel down in front of me. The proposal position briefly brings me back to another moment in time.

“Any tingling or numbness?” Z’s touching my hands and feet.

I shake my head and look at my thighs, covered in huge welts. Then I move my eyes to my breasts — the lines from the cord bright red, almost cutting the skin, but not quite. My head is spinning. That was brutal. Sharp. Fast. My sliced nipple is pulsating.

Z seems to read my mind and smiles. “We need to balance it out … front and back. This is nothing compared to how your ass will look.”

I feel the chills down my spine and have to remind myself that I asked for this. Z has been a bit reluctant to go more extreme — he keeps talking about going the other direction, which is fine as he can obviously make me fly high even without pain — but I have a need to push my limits, and when he told me about this opportunity, I was all in.

The only condition was that his friend would be allowed to monitor, and I had assumed there would be surveillance cameras. I have previously expressed that I wouldn’t want strangers participating in our play, which is why he thought I might not agree. However, I’d gladly play with this bear of a man.

Z gets up and brings me a bottle of water — hydration is important, he says.

I take a few sips and hand it back to him. “Thank you, Sir.”

This story continues. Part two is written from his pov.