It’s called “the cabin where no one can hear you scream.”
It’s quite literally true. I tested it well enough.
Access is a gravel road. Very rural. Farm country.
The trail in is gated.
It’s a mile-and-a-half walk to the cabin from a gravel parking lot.
One night I had a submissive named Kay screaming my name at the top of her lungs. Again. And again.
She had asked for a cathartic flogging. I delivered.
With Kay’s hands cuffed overhead, I started to warm her up with a doeskin flogger. Then, I moved up to up to one with weightier elk tresses. A thick mop.
That’s when the screaming began.
She screamed and screamed. I paused for a moment. Moved in close. I made sure she remembered her safe word. She did.
I had her say the word. She growled it at me. Her look (and sound) was like a feral cat.
I went back to my craft, mixing styles and intensity with the strike of elk hide.
She started screaming again.
Almost a screech, it was almost embarrassing. Well, outside of the fact that the whole spectacle was making my cock hard.
I had Serafina clamp her hand down over the girl’s mouth. The screams were muffled for a moment.
Only a week before, at an event called Twisted Tryst, Janet Hardy had flogged Kay to orgasm in an Energy Play demo.
It was now my chance to try. I worked the rhythm steadily. Florentine flogging. I was breathing with the tempo.
Visualizing my energy, my chi. Letting the energy flow through my hand, through my fingertips. Down the length of the flogger.
I visualized my energy flowing through the elk tresses across Kay’s backside.
As Serafina let go of the lady’s mouth, the screams began again.
Her voice had changed. The screech was gone. It was a dusky growl now.
No longer was she screaming my name. Now it was simply… “Please!”
I’m big on requiring orgasm control from any submissive in my service. The rule is simple, ask for permission before you cum.
She wasn’t begging me for a stronger flogging. Kay certainly wasn’t begging for the flogging to end. She was begging to cum.