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This is a blog by a polyamorous woman kinkster. I'm a geek, LGBTQ positive, and a cis, 40+ tomboy. Sometimes I write, and ramble and ponder. Other times I just post smut that suits my mood.

 

On whipping

It occurs to me that in my post yesterday it sounded rather like I have no fear of the whip itself, which isn’t quite accurate. I’m including something based on an email I wrote to Huginn about whipping, to fill in a bit more on my thoughts on being whipped, and especially looking forward to being whipped by the top I’m negotiating with. For simplicity, I’ll call him Lash.

He’s good enough with a singletail whip that he can be trusted to whip a woman’s breasts without needing to worry that he’ll take an eye out. Oh sure, there’s always that fear. A slithering piece of leather and string is cracking at the speed of sound right in front of your body, leaving painful welts and bruises in its path. I’ve never been whipped by someone who could be trusted to strike at my front without something protecting my face, but I can’t imagine facing something like that without some measure of fear adding spice to the pain. It’s a mindfuck. It takes a lot of trust.

I’ve watched Lash work with a whip before. I found myself unable to take my eyes off him as he focused on his target, and flicked the whip he was using, effortlessly, toward the topless women in front of him. I know most people were watching the women, as they took their turns as his target. One was stoic and still as the whip bit into her breasts. The other less so. As the latter woman sucked air in between her teeth in her pain, she arched toward where the strikes were coming from. She was a sensual, lovely woman. But it was Lash that fascinated me. His calm focus was compelling. An attractive man in his 60’s who wouldn’t raise an eyebrow passing anyone on the street. Polite, disarming, a he’s a self-described “responsible sadist”.

I’m very much looking forward to discovering how I will face my fear at the business end of his whip. There will of course be photos. How else would I know what I look like as I face those fears, and embrace that pain?

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