We’re at a mini kinky gathering at HH’s this weekend. As well as deep, intense play, there’ve been random spankings happening all over the place, and I’ve been variously topping and bottoming through these.

At one point Abel coaxed me into a lovely flogging position: standing up, holding onto two ropes hanging from the ceiling beams.* He found a crop with a very wide slapper, and proceeded to sting me with it on the bottom, back and breasts. I squeaked rather a lot, and everybody present laughed a lot.

When Abel was done, HH picked up the same implement – with a considerably more evil expression on his face. He gave me a few quite sharp flicks on the breasts – harder than any Abel had delivered.

“You’re not yelping for me,” he said petulantly.

“That,” I said, “is because you would enjoy it too much.”

Seriously: I think yelping and crying just encourages some people. Maybe they’re sadists, or something.

*What? Who doesn’t have rope hanging from ceiling beams?