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“We’re going to start with some light flogging,” I tell Bridget. “Nothing to worry about. It’ll feel like a massage.”
“From a flogger?” she says with skepticism.
I walk over to get a deer-skin flogger from the cabinet. The soft, supple leather lands more tamely than others.
I massage her shoulders and her ass, warming up the body parts again, before lightly swinging the tails against her buttocks.
“Remember you can use your safe word,” I remind her, swishing the tails a little harder against her.
“Got it.”
I whip harder.
“Oh!” she cries.
“Too hard?” I ask.
“No. You just caught me by surprise.”
I smack her ass with more force. “How’s that?”
“Not too bad.”
“You think you can take more?”
“Yeah.”
I bring the flogger down harder.
She yelps.
“That the most you can go?” I inquire.
“Um…maybe a little harder.”
I land another blow.
She cries out again, then draws in a long breath. “Maybe a tiny bit harder.”
Impressed, I flog her twice.
“Okay! I think that’s good.”
I move to other parts of her body, lightly slapping the flogger on her shoulders, her upper arms, and her thighs. Since she lies on the sofa on the side of her face, I can see her profile and discern if she’s having a hard time. She exclaims when the tails catch her sensitive inner thigh. I go back to flogging her ass, making it blush dark pink, gradually increasing the impact. She surpasses her previous limit.
To reward her efforts, I put down the flogger and fondle her clit.
“You did good, Bridge,” I praise. “I think you were made for BDSM.”
“I don’t know about that,” she murmurs.
I sink my fingers into her pussy. It’s true that she has a long way to go, but so far the signs are very promising. Which means I’m in trouble.
