Greg buckled the collar around Elle’s neck. He kissed just above the collar and thrust his erection deeper into her.
They has bought the collar the night before at the sex trade show they had attended…a very amateur event that had some interesting vendors, but little else of value considering the marketing involved with bringing the show to town. Greg wanted to go for writing research, but was quite disappointed by the entire affair.
It was Greg’s decision that the collar would only be put on during intercourse, however…
So here they were…half dressed…preparing for Elle’s first fetish party. About the only thing that seemed to be missing was that Elle did not own a corset…something Greg would edit when he wrote the tale later. He wanted to present Emma, the fictional character name he used for stories of Elle, in the most fashionable and classy corset possible. One that gave her the feel of a seductress without being sleezy.
Greg expected he would have the next chapter of Emma’s Descent…the name of the series where he was documenting Elle’s introduction to the fetish world…finished before sleep that night. The newest chapter, Emma Gets Flogged was well underway already.
They arrived at the location, huddled in the cold streetcar. Snow littered the streets as they walked briskly through their own white breath to get to the warehouse where the party was held…the full moon looked down with bright approval.
They were, it seemed, early. By the scheduled time, the party had been going for more than half an hour…but still, not many were there.
The room, itself was shrouded in black curtained walls between large mahogany beams. The ceiling was done in the same stained mahogany with large beams securing suspension chains. An old iron ring chandelier lit the room from high above. The floor of the lower section was gray and red stone with wooden stairs leading up to a secondary loft area.
In the story Greg had started, there would be a flogging. They would find a gentle dom, much more experienced, who gently flogged Emma to give her the experience.
In realty, there was much flogging…just not of Elle. Elle and Greg watched from the loft with the entire event to be sensory overload at first. There were floggings, suspensions and even medical play that was not very medicinal with electro-rock tunes of the 80s to comfort in the background with their phat beats of yester years. The group expanded to nearly 50 people as the evening went on.
Elle watched, getting more and more excited with each flog strike. She wanted this. She wanted to feel the flogger lightly tickling her back. The stands licking lightly at her flesh.
As the evening continued, Elle and Greg met another more experienced couple. Their discussion went from boot fashions to suspensions to suspensions involving piercings in a guy’s chest…all four cringed at this last one.
Elle and Greg slipped out before the evening wore on too long. The cold air bathing them as they walked back to their streetcar stop. Finding a perfect spot where he led Elle into the cold dark.
With no complaint, she found a dry piece of concrete to kneel on. She pulled down his zipper as he stood stoic, allowing her to feast her lips upon his erection…
…well, this is how Greg would write it. It was, however, simply too cold for such outdoor activities.
Elle did feast upon him, just once the couple was back in a warm bed. She swallowed every drop Greg thrust into her mouth.
“So you want to be flogged?” he asked before kissing her neck.
Greg unbuckled her collar and lay out on the bedside table. “Guess I need to get a flogger, then.”
The story, however, was not completed that evening. Greg awoke the next morning and, as had become customary, Elle sucked him off while he finished the piece.