I watch him move in the reflection of the shiny black plastic that I’m pinned against. Hands above my head, feet slightly apart, dress pulled up around my waist. He’d firmly turned my head towards the wall, fingers gripping my jaw line in that way that makes me breathless.
I catch a glimpse of our audience, settling at the side of the dancefloor to see the show.
The lights behind him make him a silhouette yet I can still make out the intensity in his face as he paces behind me, moving deftly with the flogger for heavy thuddy hits against my back, my exposed bottom and my thighs. Moving onto the dragon tail, he hits the same sore spots on my cheeks with precision. The whip produces stingy licks of pain that make me clench, arch my back and give the slightest of foot stomps as I process the infliction, before settling myself for the next impact.
He turns me around for kisses and abuse, to cram his hands inside the flimsy material of my dress and take firm hold of a nipple to twist and pull. Each abusive action increasing my sensitivity, making the next tug more painful to bear. Pleasurable agony that makes me pant.
In tune with the music, he seems to find his stride to the beat of the Prodigy. Running his hands across my body, intermittently rough, scraping his nails across my stomach or pulling me towards him. Firm fingers squeeze and knead my sensitive breasts. Kisses become bites across my neck and onto my arms to mirror those sunk into my back earlier. Sharp nips across my skin as he’d lifted me easily, closer to his mouth for for easier purchase. My squeals heard above the music as he grasped my skin between his teeth and clamped down. Bruises blossom to join those fading from our previous encounter two weeks earlier, clear finger print and bite marks still evident, honour badges of hotness.
Pushing against the material of my underwear, I rock against his fingers, pleading and begging for him to be inside, until finally he gives me sweet release. Forcing his fingers into me and deftly producing a shattering orgasm that soaks the floor. A puddle in the corner of the dancefloor as the club continues to heave and move in time with the music.
My later suggestion was made in all innocence, a possible request for a future time, for tomorrow perhaps when I’d be visiting him in the privacy of his home. A small ask, a simple desire “I want a proper spanking please…” not expecting him to take me by the wrist and deliver on my craving immediately.
Static X plays in the crowded room “We kiss,the stars, we writhe, we are, your name, desire, your flesh, we are…cold“. The room is dark but with flashing lights bright enough for each person on the dancefloor to see him lead me in, pin me up against a wall and lift my dress. Exposing my behind to deliver the bare handed slaps I wanted so much.
Pulled into the floor and over his knee for more he growls into my ear “Everyone can see you, do you like being spanked here on the dancefloor in front of all these strangers?” finishing his reign of repetitive spanks against my already delicate behind. Bruised and marked from his earlier beating.
I’m restrained against him, taken off balance on my way down and now, responding to the pain of the hard spanks against my thighs, I squirm on his lap. I take each impact with a squeal, the steady rhythm heating my skin and increasing my arousal.
“On all fours puppy. I want to see you” standing up, he gives me the space to pull into box position. Hands and knees against the grimy floor, warmth radiating from my bottom, still exposed to the room.
He kicks my legs apart “Wider…wider…come on, I want to see you…Good girl” I obey, spreading my knees wide. I try to catch my breath and hold still but I’m afraid my hips are rocking, humping the air like a horny puppy.
He plants a foot in my crotch, a gentle kicking that hurts so good. Placing the toes of his boot against my cunt he lifts me slightly, forcing me into a stretched position before dropping me and repeating the light kicks that make me buck, prompting animalistic noises.
If we have an audience I am no longer aware of them, but he certainly made sure I knew later, asking me to tell him about it whilst waiting in the cloakroom queue, smirking at my shame-face as I confess my sins.
Even here in the acceptance of a fetish club I know I’m still a filthy puppy, a bad girl being good.
“Did you make a mess?” Yes, I confirm with a blush and a nod.
“Where did you make a mess?” On the dancefloor, I tell him, almost feeling shy.
“In front of all those people?” Yes, yes in front of all those people, those strangers watching us.
“And did you like it pup? Knowing they could see you” Yes, yes very much, I liked it very much.