I moaned and wiggled some more, which of course stimu- lated my crotch and provoked a different sort of moan.I moaned and wiggled some more, which of course stimu- lated my crotch and provoked a different sort of moan. John said, "You don't have to explicitly agree. I'll count to ten; if you don't demur by then, I'll proceed." I remained silent, stilled by an agony of indecision. Oddly enough, rather than simply counting, he activated a metronome, a slow one, and counted with every tick. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five." Still I said nothing, but still, I struggled with the ropes and chains. "Six. Seven. Eight. Nine." I braced myself. "Ten." Nothing happened. Two more ticks went by, and still nothing happened. "Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen." I had just started to relax, when I heard, and then felt the whip, exactly on the sixteenth tick. I screamed, and pressed wildly against the post, rubbing on it. John kept counting; on twenty, he hit me again, and again on twenty-four and twenty-eight. I knew when each blow was coming, and before each one I'd try to escape, and press myself deep into the pole to hide before he hit me again. But each of these attempts stimulated me more; I found myself trying to embrace the pole like a lover. Around the tenth stroke, I felt the pole responding -- John had built a vibrator into it. My life was just a haze; all I could focus on was the pain in my back and the pleasure in my groin. I couldn't tell which was more intense. Then he skipped a tick, and another, and a third. Was it over? Suddenly, the hardest stroke of all landed, on my buttocks in- stead of my back. |