Receiving Whips and Prolonged Pleasure

I can say that I have never been whipped when I didn’t want it to stop, and also never had a whipping that when it was over, I didn’t wish it had gone on longer. My wife has tied and whipped me many times, but she is reluctant to “go too far”. It doesn’t help her continue because I like to beg for mercy, even through a gag. I finally got her to take me past the limit by inventing a game. Here is how it worked:

First, she ties my hands behind us in our private basement room. The space is finished, soundproofed from outside noise, clean, warm, and comfortable (I like being cozy even while being tortured). The ceiling stands higher than normal rooms, well above my reach. Sturdy steel rings are set into the ceiling at strategic spots. She leads me to this basement chamber and shuts the door behind us; anticipation builds in my chest. She unbuttons my shirt, frees my hands from their temporary tie, removes the fabric entirely, then secures heavy steel shackles onto my wrists before attaching them via chain to those overhead rings. I am not standing on tiptoes but fully stretched out. I cooperate with every step of it. The steel shackles feel smooth and rounded, very comfortable—nothing like tight handcuffs that can bite into skin. In fact, they seem even more pleasant than leather ones due to their smoothness and fit. There is also a psychological comfort; knowing I cannot escape until someone turns a key in the lock gives me peace of mind. They cost quite a bit, but every penny was worth it.

She circles around me several times, examining my form and caressing my skin. She unbuckles her belt and lets my trousers fall, then removes both shoes along with pants and underwear. Matching steel shackles click shut on my ankles, chaining them to rings embedded in the floor so that my legs spread wide apart. This lowers my body slightly while further elongating my arms. I am completely naked, spread-eagle, entirely under her control.

She teases my cock until arousal peaks near climax, then pauses mid-stroke. She announces she will return shortly, switches off the lights, and exits, closing the door behind her. Now I sit in a windowless room devoid of illumination—absolute darkness envelops me like the finest blindfold imaginable. Time stretches; it feels an eternity passes before relief comes (she later said only thirty to forty minutes had elapsed). Soon enough, I hear the latch lift and catch sight of light slicing through the gap. She enters and ignites candles just bright enough for clarity regarding her attire: a tight black leather skirt paired with stockings, high heels, silk scarf knotted at neck, and gloves also made from leather without blouse or bra beneath them. In one gloved hand rests about two feet long riding crop constructed of braided leather surrounding stiff fiberglass core material as she flexes it between fingers filled now equally by lust and fear.

Here starts our game designed expressly showing capability beyond previous experiences together: She declares guiltiness using standard phrases typical for such moments. Sentencing begins at ten strikes delivered via whip however post-strike protocol demands verbal acknowledgment saying “Thank you mistress” followed closely requesting harder subsequent blows if desired properly counted otherwise additional punishment ensues automatically depending upon compliance levels maintained throughout process.

n. So if I utter the magic sentence, I’ll have nine left to endure. Plus, I can choose not to say it whenever I want, and that one won’t count toward the total. She knows I’m holding some power (I can hold out, but then lose control over those final ten unless I extend them), so she feels free to push past what we’ve ever done before. She walks me through the rules again, even though I already know them well. Standing beside me, she delivers a sharp slap on my bare bottom. It stings, yet I stay silent. She doesn’t speak either and lands another one, slightly harder this time. I tell her, “You can’t force me to say those words.” Now, she wants to prove that she actually can make me do it. The third strike still doesn’t count, but it’s as hard as any I’ve felt before. She takes her time, stretching out the moment. Leaning close to whisper in my ear, she comments on how lovely the red marks look. Teasing me between each blow. I’m panting and squirming, but determined to stick with the plan. I’ve decided this will be a whipping of a lifetime. She circles around and lands one on my inner thigh, then another on the other leg. I cry out, but whisper back “never”. Two more hits each thigh, making me gasp and moan every time. I’m trying to figure out if those ten are done yet, but I feel like I can go longer. She heads over to our wardrobe where we store things and comes back with a different whip. This one is a flogger, crafted from about a dozen thick leather thongs nicely braided into the handle. It looks quite intimidating. She swings it several times across my back before moving in front of me and whipping my chest and stomach. Some of those strands hit my cock directly. I start to beg for mercy. “Please, that’s enough.” But rules are rules. Finally, with tears welling up, I say, “Thank you mistress. May I have another harder one?” She smiles at me, running her hand down from my chest to rest on my cock. “Yes, darling. You may have 9 more harder ones.” She picks up the riding whip again. True to her word, they are indeed harder. I say the phrase, and she counts and whips until we reach three. I decide I’m not finished yet. So, I get four extra uncounted strokes before saying it once more. “Two,” she says, delivering it with all her might. I hold out again, nearly passing out from the intensity. Just two left. I say the phrase both times at last to end it. She sets down the whip and stands behind me, gently caressing my body. Everything feels sensitive and sore. She hugs me tightly as I cool off. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to sit on my punished bottom again. Since I pushed myself about as far as possible before the count even began, it was definitely beyond anything we had done previously. I reached what I thought was my limit and still had ten left to go. Even more so because I extended it. She enjoyed it too, knowing she could push farther than expected since I knew exactly what I was asking for. We will definitely use this method again, and I’ll see if I can take it even further before saying the magic words. Before unchaining me, she praised how strong I was to endure that much pain. Then she bent over in front of me, allowing me to enter her from behind. I finished quickly but powerfully. She grabbed the keys, unlocked my ankles and then my wrists, leading me off to bed. I can’t wait for these bruises to heal so I can try this again.