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Whipping Vyxter
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information. And stop sending talk
requests. Even when I'm logged in to this posting site, I usually
have the window closed, and if I don't, it's because I'm WORKING
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
From: [email protected]
Subject: whipping. a story from vyxter.
Date: Fri, 26 Jun 1992 17:06:45 GMT
hi. vyxter here. i'm using wizvax for a couple of reasons. one,
i've tried to post this story non-anonoymously and failed. three
times in a row, actually. that was a while ago. i gave up for a
while after that but then a friend asked for a copy of the story, so
i reread it, and really wanted to post it.
the other reason i'm using wizvax is that the occasional posts i see
from people who say they put the whole of wizvax in their killfile
really rile me. i think this is a decent read, so i'm punishing them
by putting it somewhere they won't see it.
ok, the disclaimers, etc:
archivist, store this away if you wish. that's fine with me. just keep
all of the words. every single one.
everyone else, this is a whipping story. it has consentual stuff, weird
interpersonal relationships, and some frighteningly blatant insecurity.
if you can't deal with insecurity i suggest you stop right now!
_whipping_ copyright 1992, by victoria i. streiff - [email protected]
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this is something of a first draft. i think i change tense a couple
of times, and stuff like that. sorry.
i was feeling kind of tired saturday evening. my fiance had
been out of town since friday and i hadn't seen him since i went
upstairs to kiss him goodbye friday morning. i had to step over his
friend to do it. they'd been up til 4am talking and this fellow, who
i still hadn't really met, was sleeping on a foldout chair on the
floor between my fiance's bed and the door. i was a little afraid
that i might step on him, but i didn't.
i went home with my lover friday night and we had a lot of
fun together, as usual. he has no radio in his car so we sing and
play silly games. we went by my house friday evening and i picked up
a bunch of stuff for the party saturday. my lover was kind enough to
drive me all the way to the party saturday just to have to drive all
the way back to his house right afterwards. i had asked if i could
bring a guest and hadn't specified who, not knowing if my fiance
would want to come. my fiance was still away so i asked my lover if
he wanted to come in for a little while. he didn't. so i got out of
the car and went towards the house.
since i'd felt a bit tired i'd decided to spruce myself up
for the party, to get myself in the right mood. consequently, i was
wearing a black, low-cut, long-sleeved cotton leotard, a very long,
black cotton skirt, black leather boots, black cotton leggings, a
"jeweled" dog collar that shows off how small my throat is, and my
dark green wool cloak. i thought i looked pretty good.
i'd just come from the supermarket, so i had three bags with
me. a bag of toys, a backpack, and groceries. it was freezing cold,
and black cotton isn't very warm. i was laden with packages and it
took me a while to negotiate the screen door on the porch and knock
loud enough to be heard. i did not make the entrance i had hoped to
make. instead of entering in a dramatic swirl of cloth, i entered in
a clumsy clump of packages to a room full of laughing people shouting
"close the damn door! it's freezing out there!" oh well. these
people know me. they already see me as human, so a dramatic entrance
isn't worth that much.
a friend ran up and hugged me. "weren't you going to bring a
guest?", she asked me suddenly. momentarily flustered, i replied
with a confused "ummm...". "i knew i left something at home!",
someone shouted. the room laughed. i knew i was in for another one
of those parties. my friends get together, tell stupid jokes, and
hit each other.
it was obvious from the way things were going that nothing
had happened yet and it was taking a while for things to warm up. i
asked someone if this were true and she looked at me as though i were
a bit daft. "your wife isn't here yet, dear, you know the party
can't start until your wife gets here." oh yeah. i forgot.
it isn't that my wife tops everyone or anything, ordering
them not to start until she arrives, it is more that there simply
doesn't seem to be a hell of a lot of point to starting until she
does. she is truly the "life of the party".
i started to warm up a bit, both from the cold and towards
the party. i looked around at the people there. i knew almost all
of them, but as usual, it took me a while to get rid of my first
reaction. i really hate it when my training takes over. i have this
little voice in my head that says "who are all these funny looking
people!? who would want to have sex with them? you're just as
funny-looking as they are! they look rediculous! that one, too
skinny! that one, too fat! that one, what a geek! and you, who do
you think YOU are, parading around like some sort of sex goddess?!
have you looked at those thighs lately? your hips won't fit through
doorways soon!" after a while, i got her to shut up, and i had fun.
i showed everyone the box of tacky theme cereal i'd picked up at the
supermarket. we turned off the lights so everyone could see the glow
in the dark ghosts on the back of the box.
when my wife finally arrived, she got attacked. everyone,
including me, was delighted to see her. it took a while before i
could hug her myself. when i did, i asked her if she would do me a
favor. "do you remember at that other party when you whipped me
until i broke down crying?" she did, of course. i wanted her to do
it again. i'd been feeling really bad about something for a few
months now, and hadn't been able to cry about it. i really wanted to
cry. i can cry if i go see the right movie, but then i'm not crying
for myself. i wanted to cry for myself. i felt that if i couldn't
allow myself to feel my psychological pain, then i wanted to feel my
physical pain. the last time she'd whipped me until i cried the
release had been wonderful, but unexpected. i hadn't really known
what i wanted so it didn't take me too long to get it, and i'd really
surprised my wife.
this time was a bit different. it was a while before either
of us were ready. i tried to top one of the hostesses, but i was too
distracted. a few other scenes went on, and i assisted in one or
two, to a minor extent. there were lots of knives, and hairbrushes,
and chocolate. eventually my wife and i started looking for a place
to hold our scene. the basement seemed good, but too cold. we
encouraged everyone to come downstairs and "be exothermic". i had
long since taken off my collar and skirt and i pulled my leotard down
to my waist. i was still wearing my leggings and my shoes, but i was
naked to the waist and my hair hung over my breasts. behind me,
people told silly jokes and laughed, but they did seem to warm up the
room. i held on to some mountain climbing webbing that had been
suspended from a pipe in the ceiling. there was absolutely nothing
keeping me there except myself. i wasn't wearing cuffs, the webbing
wasn't even knotted around my wrists. i pulled my hair off my back,
so that it hung over my face, i put my wrists in the webbing, and i
grabbed hold. i planted my boots on the floor. "i'm ready", i told
her. "i love you", she said. "i love you, too.", i said back.
"Thwack!"
she hit me.
for a long time, she hit me, and the people behind me talked,
and i paid attention to them, and they teased me a bit and said i
ought to be blindfolded because i kept turning around to see what
they were laughing at. at one point i heard someone say "she looks
like she's in a car wash!" this i had to understand. i turned
around and my wife showed me the whip she was using. it was a black
cat. long black leather handle, lots of long thick black leather
straps. very long. she tossed the straps at me, slowly, and they
drifted through the air and gently caressed me. i did, indeed, look
like i was in a car wash. we all laughed.
but that wasn't what i wanted. oh, she was hurting me, but i
was just so distracted. she would work her way up to a good rhythm,
and then she would change her pace. she would come around and play
with my breasts, or hit my ass... this was not what i needed. i
wondered how i could get her to give me what i needed. i wondered if
i should just follow her where she led me, trust her to give me what
i needed. i kicked off my boots, with her help. everyone commented
on my white cotton socks.
at some point, she was up to a good hard rhythm again, and i
was feeling like this was what i wanted, only i wanted it a bit
harder, perhaps. she started to slow down, to change. "please", i
choked out, "please don't stop." so, she continued at her former
pace. oh, it hurt. i realized around that i couldn't hear the
people behind us anymore. we had finally gotten their attention.
it was good that it was so quiet. i couldn't hear anything
except the thud of the whip. i thought about what had been making me
so sad and angry for so long, and i tried to cry. it didn't work
very well. my nose was dripping and there was snot in my hair. some
tears dripped down my cheeks. i sung out when the leather hit my
skin. i thought about the neighbors and tried to be more quiet. she
started to really find her pace.
THUD! when the cat hits my back.
silence! as the leather holds on to my skin.
tension! as the straps slide down my back and i wait for her
to hit me again.
i wait for the pain. it doesn't hurt in between blows. i
imagine my back, it must be getting red. i try to cry, and the cat
hits me again. it hits me, over and over. there i am, just me, and
the leather. just the whip, and my shoulder blades.
i think about what has been making me so sad and angry, and i
try to cry. WHAM! the straps slam into my back. it feels like i am
being hit with a solid object, not a bunch of pieces of leather, but
a club.
THUD! i cry out, loudly, in anger and in pain. THUD! she
hits me again and i am rolling with it. i can take it! THUD! i am
taking it! THUD! go ahead, i am standing here, of my own free will!
WHAM! give it to me, i want it, i need it! SLAM! i scream in pain
and anger.
it goes on like this. how long? i have no idea. i would
love for someone else at the party to tell me how long it went on, if
they know. it was incredible. it was intense. it was painful. i
am so glad it happened. i am so proud of my bruises.
at some point i started to wonder if i had had enough. i
wanted to keep going, but i also wanted to stop. i thought to myself
that i would stop her after the next sharply painful blow, but they
all felt the same. they all hurt. finally, i knew i should say it,
and there wasn't going to be a particularly obvious time, so i should
just call safeword. "timeout", i said weakly. and released myself
from the straps. i fell to my knees on the floor as i heard her say
"you and me both, babe."
my wife, my wonderful wife, called for a blanket and sat on
the floor with me. she cuddled me close so i could cry my eyes out.
i did cry for a bit, but not much. i reached for the toilet paper
i'd brought downstairs and i blew my nose and tried to get the snot
out of my hair. i heard someone say "well, that'll be a hard act to
follow", and then a reply: "yeah, vyxter's scenes are always pretty
cathartic". it felt great to hear them say that, and i wanted to go
upstairs. but my wife seemed to need comforting.
i felt bad that i couldn't give enough to her when she'd
just given so much to me. she needed me, but i felt restless and
agitated. i was dying to see my back. i asked about it, was it
still red? and she said that it would be bruised for days to come.
she said that if i hadn't called safeword when i had she would have,
because she thought she was about to draw blood.
wow! i'd never had such a whipping. i couldn't believe i'd
taken so much pain and stood there for it, willingly, asked for more.
i'd almost worn out my top! my wife! i had almost reached _her_
limits, but on my back! now i really wanted to see my bruises. i
hugged her for a bit longer though, since i knew she needed it. i
encouraged her to cry, and she encouraged me to cry, but it was no
use. i had already finished crying. she didn't feel able to cry
either, though she wanted to.
eventually i got up and went upstairs. i looked at my back
in a mirror. it was very red, except for the parts that were purple.
it would indeed be bruised for many days to come. they would
probably be visible in some form for a couple of weeks. i was tired.
i spent some more time at the party, but not too long. i had
pretty much reached my limits for the night. my wife drove me home
and i went to sleep, alone, in my own warm bed.
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--
I will ignore all requests for: reposts, e-mailing parts, ftp/gif/archive
sites, and subscription requests. These stories get deleted immediately after
they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted
bi-monthly to a.s.s.d. And don't send me chain mail- I'll notify your sysadmin.
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