Arcadia Resurgence by Vague Vermillion (free biff chip and kipper ebooks .TXT) 📕

as you lapped and suckled every last bead away, then lifted you by the chin, taking the flogger back in hand, and getting to my feet. With the tails dangling at my side, you glanced over at me excitedly and volunteered yourself to the headboard, gripping the wrought iron frame and kneeling there, offering up your rosey canvas to further work.

A handful of strikes to encourage more colour, all administered from an unfavourable angle, standing beside the bed. That's when my genius shone through and I climbed up onto the bed behind you, standing above you, leering down at you. The soft, supple leather struck more true from this position. Splaying across the backs of your shoulders, down your body, and drawing a touch of colour into your creamy cheeks.

I took my time, trailing the fall along your spine, through your hair, down your front to graze across your nipples. Oh, how you shivered at the sensation. The way you turned your head into the leather to smell it as it whispered along your skin. And then your soft mewls of encouragement as it struck your backside again, or wrapped around your sides to fondle your breasts, or splayed out along your back. Confident that you were properly warmed up, I draped the deerhide over your shoulder and then stepped down off the bed to grab the suede.

Trailing the heavier flogger over your opposite shoulder as I slowly dragged the deer hide away, I leaned in close "This is suede. It's going to be your friend." You trembled, whether it was the sensation of the flogger or my voice pitched low in your ear, I don't know. But you trembled, and I knew I had you. Setting the first flogger on the bedside beside us, I resumed my position behind you, gazing down at you hungrily. The tails tickling your skin as I moved the tips along your shoulders, over your neck, down your spine, over your ass and back up your back.

The first strike was gentle, easy. It was already more impactful than the deerhide and you responded with a well received hum. Symmetry is important, so the other side received a mirror strike and produced an echoed little hum. One strike. Another. Another. Slowly building up the force. Watching you flex and shift at my feet, immersing myself in your coos of approval. Two firmer concussions to each shoulder and your grip slipped from the headboard and you collapsed on your elbows with a delicious little cry. Parts of me flexed their approval.

Before I could sink down to one knee you were already climbing back into position, clasping the iron tight. I remember exactly how much I enjoyed that. And I know exactly how much you were enjoying it too, as my hand snaked between your thighs to feel you slick to the touch and flinching excitedly as I explored you.

"Yes. .Yes, I have a great idea." I draped the flogger over your shoulder again.

You protested as my hand left your heat and I stepped off the bed. I returned to the table and pulled out my leather cuffs. No chain between them, just the black and red leather and three d-rings a piece. I wrapped them around your wrists, snugging them tight, then grabbed a carabiner for each and locked you to the headboard through the horizontal iron bars. Now each hand could travel perhaps a foot before being arrested, and you could only drop them a couple of inches. You were secure. You weren't going anywhere, or going to interrupt my rhythm again. We both knew it, and we both responded visibly. 

Lording over you again, I picked up where I left off. Firm strokes coming down on your shoulders, one side to the next and back again. Each heavy strike bending you a little further and a little further down toward the pillows, wrists secured above your head. A wicked idea came to me. A firm backhand strike on one ass cheek and then the other had you quickly up at attention again. Knees wide, hands on the rail, back straight and ready for me. I had a cheshire smile and a wicked chuckle for you. 

"Oh? Did that get your attention?" I lean in close, one hand on your shoulder, lips near your ear, tails trailing down your back.

"Yes, Daddy." You choked out.

"Did I surprise you?"

"You did, Daddy."

"Did you like that?"

Silence. "I said," the flogger swished through the air and then slapped your ass, then a quick match to the other side, "did you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy." You managed.

"'Yes, Daddy.'" I mocked. Straightening, I let the flogger do its work on you again. My gradually heavier blows bending you, beating you down, then a few sharp cracks to your pretty ass to get you back to attention, only to beat you down again. I swelled excitedly, stiff, demanding.

After pulling you back up to attention for the I-don't-know-how-many-th time, I started to enjoy exploring. Trailing the tips down your neck, around your scalp, down your pink back. You cried out and sagged in your bonds when the flogger suddenly came down on the soles of your little feet. I leaned in sadistically, "Did that hurt, baby girl?"

"Yes, Daddy." You whimpered.

"And what do we think about symmetry?" I asked cruelly. You hesitated, I could tell you didn't want to answer the question. I liked that part.

"That it's important." The reluctance in your voice. I could hear you resigning yourself to your fate. It was so fucking arousing.

"That's right." I had to twist the knife a little.

You closed your eyes in preparation before I even leaned back and offered your other sole the same ministration. You whimpered and tried to huddle down smaller. A few quick strikes to that presented posterior had you back up in position quick enough, however.

The flogger and I explored your calves, your thighs but neither made you whimper the way your delicate little feet did. Something I extorted intermittently as I returned to beating you down and striking you up again. All the while asking you if it hurt. Asking you if it sounded like I cared. Asking you if you thought your Daddy was mean.

I was leaking from my end and growing more and more unmanageable. I knelt behind you, my cock rubbing between your cheeks, smearing myself about. Poking, prodding. The flogger trailed along your body. I choked up on the fall to offer your back some awkward, close range strikes. You always respond well to me, undulating against me, pressing back. I draped the suede over your shoulder and moved off the bed, walking over to turn on the overhead light to see my canvas better in the fading light. Coming back, I picked up two heavy clothes pins from the table and came to stand beside you. You looked at them like they were snakes.

"You're not going to like these." I didn't even try to hide my gleeful grin. I'd say your expression was imploring. Silently begging that I wouldn't actually put them on, but knowing that the plea would be fruitless and therefore knowing better than to ask.

I opened the first clamp and leaned in close, my face only inches from yours. I took your first nipple in the clamp and slowly, cruelly, let it gradually close. You winced and looked away, trying to escape perhaps. My fingers released the pin and your breath caught as the heavy spring pinched you tight. I grabbed the other clamp. You looked at me and shook your head back and forth, silently mouthing the word no over and over. Your gaze followed the clothespin to your nipple and you trembled and tried to huddle around it as, with agonizing slowness, I closed the pin on you.

I didn't give you time to wallow in your self-pity though. I had needs I wanted met. I climbed back up onto the bed, but this time, rather than position myself behind you, I stepped over your arm and set myself between your bound wrists, cock lurching excitedly right before you. Perhaps you welcomed the distraction, because I didn't need to say anything. Your lips and tongue found me before I could even take up the flogger again and you took me into your mouth before I could even make a demand. I hummed my own pleasure and simply enjoyed you lapping up my flavour for a few seconds before I brought the fall down on your back.

The position didn't allow for much force behind the strikes, but you moaned around my girth and shivered whenever I trailed the tails across your warm skin. Your lips and tongue savoured every inch of me and the suede enjoyed everything it could reach. I let you distract me from time to time when you speared your throat on me, but for the most part, the falls continued to rain down on your back.

"Stop. You don't get to have my cum yet." I growled as I let you edge me a little. You released my prick and gave a sullen plea. I love having this effect on you. You were more upset to have my cum denied you than you were about being beaten. Speaking of being beaten.

I draped the flogger over your neck and shoulders and stepped out over your arm again. I could tell you already missed me. I returned to my place behind you and took up the flogger again. And when I resumed, I added a little more force. It took fewer strikes to beat you down, and one strike per cheek was more than enough to get you right back up. Your little moans and groans as you were driven down, and your little cries or yelps as your ass or feet were lain into were intoxicating. Oh, to hear you sing out your pain.

 

After one particular strike, I raised the flogger back over my shoulder in preparation for your next and suddenly there was a clattering noise and the shadows in the room wobbled. Looking up, the tails of the flogger had struck the ceiling fan and bent it out of shape! I checked the flogger reverently, let's be honest, it's a beautiful flogger. After assuring myself that the masterpiece was okay, I then turned my attention to the intruder on our scene. Nothing smashed. Nothing sharp. Nothing incredibly inconvenient or worth stopping the scene for. Just annoying. And now something we will know to be mindful of for future scenes. We laughed together for a second, but I was not letting you out of your space so easily. 

A lazy strike to either foot quickly got your attention and brought you back to where I wanted you. Two more strikes on your ass and my beautiful game had resumed. Controlling you. Manipulating you. Using you for my amusement as a little toy. I especially took pleasure in tormenting your delicate little feet at this moment. Mocking your discomfort, getting you to repeat how important symmetry is before giving you the mirror strike.

Having just beat you down again, I laid the flogger across your back and stepped down from the bed. Returning from the table, I showed you the little leather strap of the arm binder. Triangle cut on one end, folded back on itself and grommeted on the other. "This is going to sting." I bared my teeth in a Cheshire grin. You shook your head hopelessly.

"No. Please no, Daddy." Little more than a whisper.

"Oh? Are you scared of this little strap?" You nodded fervently. "Does it look like I care?" Your eyes went wide and you looked at me desperately. "Well? Does it?"

Your eyes dropped and you mumbled out, "No, Daddy."

"'No, Daddy.'" I mimicked, "That's right. Now then. . ." 

My grin stretched wider as I lifted my arm and administered the first swat of the triangle end on your closest cheek. You yelped, flinching away from the nasty little strap. A second strike to the second cheek, because symmetry is important. You pulled