Le Marquis-Noir offers me to Maître M. to be flogged by his twin martinets before a full audience.
:::
Leaning naked against the mirror, I shut my eyes.
A gust of wind enfolds me as whirling leather lashes begin to fall over my shoulders & back all down to my ass, warming me up. I smile in delight as the light strokes promise more.
The Motown tempo of the Supremes, the rhythmic lilting upbeat guiding the strokes pattering over me. Joy rises in me & I softly laugh.
Maitre M. lightly caressed my spine, asking me if I want more. I nod & we go onto the next level, slightly harder increasing onto another, with blows to the shoulders like Shiatsu. Noticing how his technique is different from what I've felt so far from Mast'Her.
I've got this burning, burning, yearning feeling inside me
Ooh, deep inside me and it hurts so bad
baby baby oooooOOOOooohhhhhh, baby baby
And I feel happy in the rush of wind & fire, exhilarated in this awareness, just loving it. And it's so much fun.
After one or two strong blows that make me gasp, the whirling stops. I bow to Maître M. thanking him, Namaste, then kneel at the feet of my Mast'Her to thank him for this wonderful gift.
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