Excuse the cringey title. I can’t resist a bit of play on words.

It’d been a while since AI and I last played but I very smoothly asked him if he wanted to top up my bruises at Kage during a text based conversation and I was rewarded with a yes. Woo hoo.

It was a quiet kage, probably a combination of the bank holiday weekend, Manchester pride and the awful, rainy weather. Not fabulous for trade on our erotic tombola but good for conversation and having time to play. When we headed down to the dungeon there was plenty of space and I ended up on the rack. Not attached to it though, just lying flat.

It was very quiet. I’m not sure there was music playing, even. I was very aware of my own breathing and the echoing of implements being moved around as AI got ready to beat me.  I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I might be, but my stomach was still in knots. I think the fact we’d not played together for a few months caused me a little anxiety…would it go to plan? Would it be as good?

The moment he laid his hand on the small of my back the little whispers of fear quietened.  His other hand spanked me, gently at first, building up the pressure slowly, in the unique rhythm he has. It made me smile. I’d missed that rhythm. He hit everywhere from my butt down to just above my knee. Preparing me, kneading and warming my flesh like play dough but not quite so squidgy.

Towards the end of the hand spanking, I started to let out the odd moan and squeak as my flesh began to sting. That was his cue to move on, it seems as next came the bumpy paddle, which he uses for warm up. It’s a stingy kind of pain and at first it irritated me a little. Sometimes stingy isn’t my favourite but as I relaxed into it, I got over that initial burst of ‘don’t like this’ and started to enjoy the stinging bursts, lulled by the rhythm and the constant comfort of that hand on my back.

I think it was then the disgruntled mewls started. Now, It’s not a noise I often make, if ever but I was clearly letting my inner brat out a little whilst being an ever so good girl and lying still whilst the mean man hit me. But these certain spots on my thighs made me get all defensive and let out these weird little animal noises. It just delighted AI as I’d hear his little ‘heh’ and he’d carry on, paying particular attention to those bits that made me mewl.

Flippin’ sadist.

And then started the poking and the tickling.  Someone was enjoying himself.

I’d won a thick cane at the Manchester munch a few months back and it hadn’t been used, so that was his next weapon. Very good for poking and trailing it down my butt and thighs elicited giggles which turned to moans as he began to hit me with it. Thick and substantial, it felt somewhat like a kendo cane but as it was plastic it was somehow harder and less giving. I loved it!

Flippin’ masochist.

So of course, AI moved on to his swishy cane. Thin, stingy and fucking evil. That brought far more disgruntled noises from the moment of the prodding and the tickling to the repeated quick, unrelenting hits that reverberate from pain to more painful and on to excruciating in the flick of his wrist.


I think that was when I got my hair ruffled and was asked if I was okay. I didn’t managed words but

“Mmm Hmmm.” Did the job.

Now, I’m not totally sure but I think the next weapon was my favourite studded paddle (I’d brought a selection of evil for him to root through if he wanted) because it was my favourite blend of sting and thud in one. It’s not the heaviest paddles but with the studs it has a rounded pain which starts with sharp and stinging and rounds out to deep and thuddy.

Lying on the flat surface, my feet not off the end, I had no way to circle my ankles or flap my feet as I normally do when pain gets too much. What I found myself doing was clenching my fists, moving my arms or thrashing my head from side to side. I don’t know if it distracts me from the pain or if somehow the movement counteracts it but there is a point in any good beating when I can’t lie still any longer.

AI was hitting with bruising precision and power by this point and every now and then he would stroke me with his spare hand or squeeze me. It amazes me each time how that simple gesture calms me, grounds me, stills me.

And then came the venators. Paddle first. My God, I can’t tell you how much I love those things. Hard, heavy, deep and they shake me to the core.

AI wielded the paddle with pulverising precision, using the flat side and the edge to make me moan, yelp, squeak and mewl. I felt each impact from my head to my toes, the reverberation enveloping me in a masochistic whole body hug of pain. It hurt like fuck but it hurt so damn good that I was in that sweet space where thoughts wouldn’t come and all I could do was feel.

And then the club. Which when he ran it down my butt and thighs made me laugh out loud as it tickled but it made my soul smile because I knew what brutality was to come.  His hits rained down, relatively soft at first but the weight of it forced it deep anyway. It hurt, it hurt so much. I could feel it shaking my bones, felt my flesh gasp as the hits got harder and harder. I’m sure I was making plenty of noise but by then my brain was fully switched off.

I could have taken that much longer, I was ecstatically, masochistically connected and the pain was immense and it was amazing and I didn’t want it to stop.

But still it was a relief when it did. And he ruffled my hair and checked I was okay. The ‘Mmm hmm’ was all I could manage but I wanted to thank him and tell him how amazing it felt and you know, basically give him a gold star and a big ol pat on the back. But words would not do a go.

I have no idea what he used then. There was an implement and then maybe his hand I honestly, I can’t remember but it was slowly and gently bringing me down from the height of pain, the rhythm slowing, the impact lightening and my body gradually relaxed.

AI hugged my shoulders and checked in with me again. I’m not even sure I managed a sound, I think I gave a thumbs up as I just lay in a puddle of achy, gooey happiness. It wasn’t until he’d packed away and he’d fed me skittles that words came back.

I knew thought had returned when I split off my skittles. I like to eat them in flavour order. I admit it’s weird, but I don’t like them as much all mixed up together. At that point I could manage words. I think I thanked him, told him I’d missed his rhythm. I eventually moved. Everything was wonderfully sore but one spot on the back of my thigh (it had bled a little, he cleaned me up, applied pressure and I screamed. He apologised, so did I. It was kinda funny really, but pain without purpose isn’t so much fun) was hard and just an explosion of ouch when I moved.

Getting off the rack was erm, fun. Walking back up the stairs to the social area was fun. Well, I say walking, it was more waddling. I heard more of his little ‘heh’ noises as he walked behind me. Revelling in my pain.

Bloody Sadist.

And as I tried things, I found out just what a sadist he was. Sitting hurt, standing hurt, walking hurt. Going up or down stairs hurt. Getting dressed hurt. Being prodded hurt.

Little Snowflake (who had permission to poke) caught me unawares and scared me cos it hurt so much and I wasn’t expecting it. It made me laugh.

Bloody masochist.

Later I found out that my handbag rests just over that spot. I pulled some strange faces in wetherspoons when I was carrying two drinks and I couldn’t do anything to lessen the impact of my bag as I walked. It was all I could do not to cry out. And of course the seat I was on dug in just at that spot and the corresponding (slightly less stingy) one on the other thigh.

I’ll be cursing that man all week.

And thanking him.

Because these bruises are going to last.

Oh goody.

It was certainly worth the wait!