Hello Miss Stephanie,
A few words to tell you about my visit to the club this Friday, June 22nd. I like to express myself on these kinds of very powerful things, and I thank you for giving me some attention in this regard.
First of all, I must tell you how disappointed I am: I missed you again! It would be a lie not to admit my dismay when I realized you weren't there! Alexandre told me you'd be here more often in September, so I'll try to come at a time when I'm sure you'll be available. I want to be clear from the start: it's not some illegitimate desire for possession that motivates me. I'm reacting a bit like someone who's told, "This film is amazing, you absolutely have to see it!" and who finds the cinema doors closed every time. I'm basing this both on your cleverly ambiguous writings and on the flattering testimonials about you. When I see the gentle and sensual energy emanating from Marie and Solenka, I can't even imagine what their Mistress must be like! (In the sense of an initiator).
But let's go back to June 22nd… after a bit of hesitation (social shyness is sometimes hard to shake), I felt a little better as soon as Alexandre decided to properly punish Solenka. I discovered her this Friday and I really like her deceptively innocent schoolgirl look […]
However, I have no doubt about Marie. Her smile disarms me and makes me melt. It's hard to imagine a more striking and effective blend of her natural kindness and benevolence, her gentle voice, her captivating empathy, and her unambiguous precision in her writing.
I told you I wasn't particularly masochistic, but I decided to give it a try anyway, so I asked one of the ladies present (the last one was a young student with blue hair named Laurette, I think) if any of them would be willing to whip me. I was lucky, because two of them volunteered! Here's my account of it. If you like it, feel free to publish it.
“In BDSM relationships, I consider myself more of a dominant/submissive person than a masochist. This is undoubtedly due to my absolute rejection of violence in human relationships. But the unsettling aspect of punishing a defenseless individual who has objectively done nothing to deserve it can be a powerful trigger for strong emotions. To put it another way, it's not the pain itself that gives me pleasure, but the idea of pain. Especially when it's inflicted by two beautiful women…”
Marie and Laurette volunteered to punish me. Marie tied me to the cross; I had asked for a blindfold, which she then placed over my eyes. This blindfold had three advantages for me: first, it allowed me to feel more comfortable with the gaze of the witnesses; even though I know that everyone present in this club is tolerant and kind, a remnant of morality remains buried deep inside me, screaming that it's wrong, that it's a sin, that it's ridiculous, or all that kind of nonsense about what we're doing. The second reason is that the loss of one sense makes the others, hearing and touch, even more sensitive. And the third is that one feels even more vulnerable.
One small, perverse detail before things began: I was wearing only my underwear. Two women had been whipped earlier and had kept their panties on. I was already tied up and blindfolded when Marie whispered in my ear, “You don’t need this…” and immediately pulled my underwear down… In my mind, I was a child again*, vulnerable and ashamed. Not a single blow had landed, and I was already defeated, my mind reeling in a whirlwind of mixed feelings, fear and excitement. I know you’re going to hurt me, please don’t…
Marie (or Laurette, I can't remember) caresses the straps on my back and buttocks. It's pleasant; it has the merit of softening me somewhat. I try to relax as much as possible. Come on, they won't hurt you that much; they're so gentle, their skin so soft, nothing cruel could possibly emanate from them.
Time stands still, as Lamartine would say. Suddenly I hear the whistling of the whip, the first blow lands on my buttocks, then a second, a third, it never stops… the subtle advantage of having two tormentors is that there's no respite. Overall, the pain is quite bearable, but there's always a blow that prevents you from completely relaxing. The strikes alternate between my lower back, buttocks, and thighs. My breathing becomes ragged, I instinctively and uselessly tug at the leather straps that bind me to the cross; I want to cry for help to fully experience my fantasy, but I don't want to frighten them. After all, it's their first time with me too.
The blows seem to be of comparable intensity, but one of them strikes harder, more precisely, and more perversely. Flagellation is an art… I'm sure it's Marie who's hitting harder. I can already picture her with that little smirk, a subtle testament to her inner pleasure… Ouch! A poorly placed (or perhaps better?) blow lands on the weakest point of male anatomy. A real, sharp "Ouch!" escapes my lips. The blows stop immediately. Marie is worried about me. I explain that blows to the testicles are really not my thing. They both apologize. I tell them it's an occupational hazard; they smile (or at least that's how I interpret it), and I tell them they can continue.
They exchange places, perhaps even instruments. I asked them not to use a riding crop; I'm afraid of the marks. The blows resume, more sustained, the pain becoming difficult to bear for a non-masochist like myself. Suddenly, slaps land on my buttocks—it's Marie again, I'm sure of it! Laurette couldn't do that! But am I so sure? My thoughts are racing. I feel myself slipping away, my breathing becomes labored, the concepts of good and evil intertwine within me, I try to find an explanation for something that has none. And at a certain point, I tip over, more intellect than feeling, a torrent of emotion washes over me. How good it is! How hot it is! I want to cry out for mercy and thanks at the same time. There is no longer age, no longer gender, no longer judgment, no longer stupid and perverse morality; there are only young people bringing happiness to a third party. As long as they also enjoy themselves! You'll tell me, won't you?
Sometimes I'm tempted to shout the password, but I won't. It's all done with too much skill and expertise for it to be necessary. I want to cry tears of joy… Finally, the blows stop. Marie's hand moves over my body. I want to shout my love for her, but I'm afraid of being indecent. Her hand comes near my mouth, and I place a chaste kiss of gratitude on her hand. I whisper "thank you," and I hear her smile. She tells me I should also thank Laurette. She's right; this two-handed punishment has proven doubly delightful.
They untie me and remove the blindfold. I sit on the ground. Another man takes my place. This time I see and vicariously experience the sensations I felt a few minutes earlier. Seen from below, the sight of the two women whipping me becomes exciting in a different way, and I naturally begin to masturbate. Yes, because I should point out that during my punishment I didn't get an erection once. And yet I experienced immense pleasure. Which just goes to show how complex the sources of pleasure can be.
Thank you Marie and Laurette. Thank you Stéphanie and Alex for allowing us to experience these moments.
