“Yes, we both want the flogger,” I confirmed.
He motioned for me to lean forward and curved the collar around my neck, flush with the skin. After Russell buckled it behind my neck, he slid a few fingers between my neck and the inside of the collar to check for tightness.
“Does it feel too snug?”
“No. It feels great,” I replied.
It always felt great on. It was a physical reminder that he wanted me.
“It looks great, too,” Russell added.
Russell rotated his hand so that he gripped the collar. The hint of rough play lingered in the way he gripped my collar. He tugged me closer and crushed his mouth against mine. Russell’s tongue made quick work of reminding me that I was his.
“There’s a flogger waiting to color your back,” he smirked.
My hard on bobbed embarrassingly as I stood and led the way to the play room. I felt like my face had to be glowing red from awkwardness. Of course, as we made our way down the hall, he reminded me not to be embarrassed or ashamed by what turns me on. I knew he was referring to reacting to the collar being firmly grabbed. Just as I was about to turn to enter the play room, Russell put his arm out between the door jamb.
“Whatever negative or doubt filled thought that has crept into your head since you stood up, I want you to leave it here. Do not take it with us inside.”
I turned my head to look at him and nodded. Russell reached down and took hold of my hard shaft, making my face all the redder.
“This is not something to be ashamed over. It pleases me that your body reacts like this when the desires of my soul stretch. Clear your mind, and let’s go let our depraved urges out to play,” Russell said as he let go of my dick.
I took a deep breath and pushed everything negative away. I knew it would eventually come back, as it always did. But the time for it was not now. I nodded again, letting him know I was ready to give him all my attention.
“That’s my boy.”
Russell brought the lights down to a dim setting as we entered the room. He pointed to his metal frame with the overhead horizontal bar.
“Stand under the bar, please,” he instructed while he went to the table that held all of his toys.
He selected one of the heavier floggers and tucked the handle into the waistband of his pants behind his back. Russell returned to me with a set of leather cuffs, and began telling me about the session he envisioned as he wrapped the cuffs around my wrists.
“I’d like for you to stand during this. I’m going to restrain your hands to the corners of the frame where the braces meet the horizontal bar. There will be just a little give in the chains, but you’ll still be able to grip them for stability.” Russell let go of my hands when he finished buckling the cuffs and then looked into my eyes. “Tell me, my boy, how do you stop our activities?”
“I say ‘hairdryer.’”
“Good, Ryan. And how do you slow it?” he inquired.
“I say ‘yellow.’”
“Good, good.”
Russell attached two links of chain from the corner of the frame to my left cuff. Before he let go of my hand, he checked for tightness. He repeated the process on the right cuff and reminded me to let him know if I felt any numbness or tingling in my hands. He rubbed one of his hands along my upper back, slapping and gripping it occasionally. I knew he did this to warm my skin. I leaned my head against his hand when I felt him touch the back of my head.
“For this, I’d like you to keep you head forward. It’s for no other reason than safety, my boy. I don’t want a stray fall to make contact with your head. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand and will keep my head in this position,” I confirmed.
The first strike thudded against my upper and middle of my back. Shortly after, a sharp sting followed.Fuck.That one kind of hurt, but felt good too. I have learned not to question myself on why I enjoy this kind of pain. Russell had told me that I could spend months analyzing this, and would not come up with an answer that would satisfy my curiosity as to why I enjoyed it.
Two strikes turned into three, and three soon turned into twenty. In between random swats, Russell would rub or grip my warm skin. On the twentieth swat, I looked at my dick. A clear string of pre-cum dangled and pulled away from my beaded tip on its way to Russell’s floor. The movement on my body that was caused by the twenty-first swat made the strand of pre-cum break the connection from me. It fell to the floor and glistened up at me as I stared at it.
The swats stopped, and Russell rubbed his hand over the hot skin on my back. Every few moments he’d make a noise that insinuated he was happy, or pleased with the color and marks that he just laid down on me. I kept my head down and focused on my cum that glared at me from his floor.
Russell’s hand slid from my lower back, around my waist and settled on my stomach as he appeared in front of me. With his other hand, he took hold of my hair and tugged upwards, causing me to look at him. I didn’t move my eyes from his and he looked me over.
“Your back looks incredible, Ryan. Your face looks relaxed.”
