Saturday, June 27, 2015

W is for Whip and a Psychological Thriller on the A-Z Challenge

On the home stretch now with blog number 23 of 26 on the A-Z Challenge.  Woo hoo!!!  

Master Dex is the Master Dom at Club Decadence.  He's also a whip master, his sensual weapon of choice is the single tail; an 8-plait, 4-feet long signal whip made from kangaroo hide to be exact.   Elena craves it by her Master's hand, but can he bring himself to use it again after what happened?



Little Light of Mine
Club Decadence Book 3


The swiping tip of the whip brushed her skin in a sensual warm up.  The steady whoosh soothed her into a trance like state.  He gradually increased the intensity with each successive stroke, building from a brushing caress to a sting and finally to a slow burn. 
Pausing between strokes to allow the sensation to penetrate her trance like state, he worked slowly and methodically.  Every few strokes he would sharply throw the single tail so it cracked in the air.  The exquisite psychological thrill of the whip brought them the satisfaction their shared kink demanded.  
He paused and stepped up behind her.  His hand gently caressed her skin assessing the heat and color, searching for welts and breaks of which there were none.  “Where are you my slave?” 
“Green, Master.”
“You need more, don’t you?  You need to feel the physical pain to ease your emotional pain before you can fly.  Tell me what you want, my slave.”
“Whip me harder, Master.  I want to feel the bite of your whip.  I want to please you.”
“You do please me, slave, so very much.”  He added another restraint securing her waist to keep her hips still.   He wouldn’t risk injury if she moved and he missed his target.  Once she was secured, he stepped back and cracked the whip through the air again, watching her shiver.  She was so responsive to sensation play and with the short tail he usually made her soar.  “Ten more lashes, each one will be progressively harder.  This time I am the musician and you are my instrument.  When we get to the pinnacle of the piece, I want your body to sing for me and I want you to come.”
“Yes Master.  Lash me; whip me until my body sings for you.  Take my pleasure.”
He resumed then with the same steady pace and moderate strokes.  He watched her carefully, playing with her body but assessing, weighing and judging her response at the same time.  Every two strokes he would crack the whip, missing her so that she only felt the brush of air over her inflamed skin.  He could tell she was flying as she moaned and writhed as if it had landed. 
For the last ten strokes, he actually decreased the intensity of the blows but she was so far into subspace by then she couldn’t tell.  It was all as he’d planned it and couldn’t have been achieved without the slow build up to subspace and the mind-fuck by the Master. Although he suggested that each stroke would become progressively harsh and heavy, he would never use such harsh tactics on her fragile skin. 
The lash falling with light brushing strokes against her already tender skin was processed by her dazed mind as searing, biting blows.  The combination of her sensitized skin and the speed of the blows reached a crescendo that made it hard for her to process where one stroke began and the other ended.  Her moans intensified and sweat rolled down her back.  She was ready.
“Come for me now, my beautiful slave.”

He brought the final lash down.  She heard the sharp crack and felt a streak of fire in its wake across her buttocks.  She screamed in pain and ecstasy as the pain brought her ultimate pleasure and she came in an intense orgasm, the climax stronger and longer lasting than ever before.  He’d never reveal the truth behind his single tail technique and risk eroding its psychological illusion.  He smiled as he dropped the whip to the floor knowing the last blow had never even touched her.  The intimidating sound and the light disturbance of the air near her skin was all he required to make her come apart.