Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
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(***, M/F, Severe, cons whipping)
A woman tells about her strange obsession with camping--and her arousal at being flogged outdoors. (Approximately 2,674 words. Originally published 1995-10.)
I love to go camping. I've enjoyed it since I was a child. My family loved to camp--we went every summer. I love the outdoors, the fresh air, the raw, naked beauty of the mountains and the streams.
But I also love nature because it makes me incredibly horny. Nothing arouses me more than the thought of making love in the middle of the woods, rolling around on rough branches and sharp pine needles. Skinny dipping is one of my favorite pastimes. To put it bluntly, I love being naked in nature. It makes me feel free and clean and sexy. It makes me feel like a woman.
But there's something else I like about camping, too. Something some people wouldn't understand. I've gone camping with my lovers and we've enjoyed this, but nothing compares to my husband. I love him so much--he makes me feel so feminine and sexy.
When we are alone in the woods he will find some flexible branches which he will strip to make switches. Then, after I am naked and ready, he whips me with the branches, giving me countless painful lashes across my buttocks and thighs.
You might wonder why I enjoy this. I'm not exactly sure. I find it invigorating, I know that. I love how sensitive my skin is after a good whipping. When we make love afterwards, rolling in the dirt, every part of me is alive with feeling.
The actual spanking itself is different. I am aroused, yes, but I do not enjoy the pain. I enjoy the concept of the pain, and the process of the pain, but the lashes _do_ hurt. I am always amazed at how much pain I can take. A part of it, I suppose, is that I want to be pushed to my limits, forced to take more than I think I can stand. At that point, when I am at my physical and emotional limits, the joy of sex is limitless and fantastic.
* * * * *
I think it started when I was 16 years old. One July during a weekend trip in the Pacific Northwest I met a young man. He must have been 18, strong and outdoorsy, with sharp features and a quick smile. On our last night my father caught us together, right in the act. We'd been skinny-dipping and our clothes were not close by.
It wasn't my first time but Daddy didn't know that. He was furious. Brad ran off into the night, leaving me to face my father alone. "That's it, young lady!" he shouted. "You're never coming camping with us again! You can stay home with Aunt Louise."
"No, please, Daddy, not that!" I begged. I fell to my knees, pleading with him, forgetting my nakedness. Anything would be better than never going camping again. And I hated staying with Aunt Louise. She was old and smelly and could never remember anyone's name. Somehow she always got me and my brother mixed up.
"I'm sorry, Laura, but that's the final decision. If you were younger I'd spank you till you were as red as a lobster, but at your age grounding is my only option."
It was with a burst of inspiration that I leaped from the ground and raced over to a nearby tree. I pulled down a strong branch and quickly stripped it of its twigs and brought it to him. "Please, Daddy," I begged, "please whip me with this. Don't forbid me to come on camping trips. It won't happen again, I promise. Just whip me and we'll forget it ever happened."
He looked at me for a long time without speaking. "Are you sure you want this?"
"It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt much more than any spanking you ever got as a child. I'm not going to spare you one bit. And you won't be allowed to dress--if I'm going to do it you'll be dressed as you are right now."
I nodded. "That's fine, Daddy. Anything you want. Just let me come camping with you."
He nodded and led me over to a large tree. "Wrap your arms around it," he said. "And hold on tight."
I hugged the tree, feeling the rough bark against my swollen breasts, the hard nipples loving the feeling. My long blond hair fell down my back and my father pushed it over my left shoulder, exposing my naked buttocks completely. Then he began to whip me.
What surprised me the most was that I enjoyed the first few blows. The switch was long with a great deal of leverage and it struck full across my buttocks. Each blow felt like a strip of fire across my skin. My buttocks had never felt so alive. It was similar to when Tom would pinch my bottom, but hundreds of times more painful. It made me so aware of that part of my body, of every jiggle and bounce of my flesh. I could almost feel the rounded contours of my ass trembling. I let myself go completely, telling myself how I deserved the whipping.
The lash came again and again, stinging me incredibly. I was gasping and trembling and crying and the worst thought of all in my mind was that this was just the beginning, that we had barely started. How could I endure so much?
My sex was dripping as I writhed and thrust myself against the tree, desperately and shamelessly attempting to rub my clitoris against the rough bark. Daddy ignored my struggles, continuing the whipping. He moved down to my thighs and I was sobbing and groaning in pain. My buttocks were nothing but pain, dozens and dozens of red and swollen welts, each throbbing independently, though the initial fierce bite of each blow had softened.
No matter how I wriggled and struggled I could not ease the pain. All I did was rub my nipples raw against the bark of the tree. The stinging of my buttocks and legs was intense, fantastic. I was astonished I was still alive. It didn't seem possible to feel such pain and live. Yet I was definitely conscious, and there was a part of me that was relaxed, calm. I didn't understand that part back then. It bewildered me.
Suddenly the blows stopped. "Hold on a second," Daddy said. "Stay right there--don't move an inch." He stepped away and I turned my head to see what he was doing. I saw in horror that the switch I had picked for him was broken, completely thrashed, and he was making a fresh one. I began to cry more violently, and a little sadly. That meant the spanking was only half-way done!
Though that licking was over ten years ago I will never forget it. Sure, I've received many others much more intense since then, but that one was special. It was my first and I didn't know what to expect. Now, of course, I am familiar with each stage of the pain. I know how my sex hungers so badly it hurts and there's nothing I can do to appease it. I know how my body reacts without my will, jerking and writhing out of control.
But during that first whipping I knew nothing of these things. I was terrified yet determined to take the pain. As the strokes continued, I realized my father was spreading the blows, striking every exposed inch of my buttocks and thighs. Though I felt certain he had to have whipped me completely several times over it seemed he was constantly discovering spots fresh skin. It was all I could do to hold onto the tree and groan.
But the second switch broke and he went for another. I couldn't believe it. It seemed impossible to endure. But he was back, the fresh switch even more painful. His blows were lifting my buttocks, the "thwack" of each blow chilling my heart.
Then it was over. I stood shivering, the night air cool against my blazing flesh. "Why don't you go for a swim?" he suggested. It sounded heavenly and I walked awkwardly toward the lake, my legs painful.
"When you are finished, get your clothes and return to camp. We leave at dawn. And let's not mention any of this to your mother."
I nodded and mumbled a good night. I plunged into the lake, the water freezing. My skin was so hot I half-wondered if steam wouldn't rise from my entrance. The water made my skin ache but felt so soothing I groaned out loud. I reached behind and gently touched my burning buttocks. The skin was covered with heavy welts, sensitive and rough. It felt good to massage them gently so I did, the best I could. The contact awakened all the painful welts but also began the healing process, the water cool and soothing.
* * * * *
That was years ago. I couldn't count the number of spankings I've received since then. No more from my father--just my lovers. A few guys were reluctant, but most seemed to enjoy inflicting pain. I'm not sure what that means.
My husband, Jack, however, is the best. While the others were stumbling amateurs, Jack is a master. He's been whipping women for years. I think that's what made me fall in love with him. He had no mercy for me, but gave what I needed, what I deserved, beyond what I wanted.
Often he will whip me at home, but I still like it better outdoors, in the open. I suppose it's that exposure that turns me on. When we go camping I always know what we will be doing. Or at least I have ideas. Jack is so creative. He always comes up with new twists on the old game.
For instance, one time he made me hike naked except for my backpack. I was well-whipped so my exposed buttocks felt huge and swollen. Occasionally the pack would brush against the sore flesh of my buttocks and I would cry out. Jack was carrying his thrash handy and would quickly whip me a few times to shut me up. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. It was wonderful!
Another time he brought a wooden paddle to spank me with. He'd often paddled me at home, but never outdoors. Paddles are very different from quirts or switches. They do not welt your skin the same way, but they make the muscles of your buttocks ache. I love them but one can be paddled much more severely than with a lash. And sure enough, I was paddled extensively that whole trip, much more than I was ever whipped.
At one point, when we'd hiked to the top of a particular peak, Jack made me squat before him, my buttocks round and firm and tense. In that position he paddled me mercilessly, the blows echoing across the empty valley, my moans following. I'd never been spanked like that before, never been forced to offer my bare buttocks in such a vulgar fashion. It was devastating. My buttocks were so tight that every blow pounded through my whole body. The stinging was fierce but there was absolutely nothing I could do to minimize the pain. I couldn't change position, wiggle, or relax. As vain as those things usually are they at least provide a degree of mental relief.
But the worst--the best?--was one spring in Utah. We had hiked to a desolate area were there were no people. That night he had me strip and cook him his food as usual. Then he tied my legs together and hung me upside down from a large branch of a tree. I dangled there, naked, my hands several inches from the ground.
He touched my body all over, squeezing my breasts cruelly, kissing my sex briefly, and slapping and pinching my bottom. I felt confused and frightened. My body felt strange, my buttocks and breasts hanging the wrong direction. Blood pounded my head and I felt hot like I was flushed.
Then he blindfolded me. For some reason this terrified me. I could feel the breeze from the lake nearby and I knew I was outdoors, but being blind made me feel so helpless I began to cry.
Then Jack took off his belt. He touched me with it, taunting me and threatening me with it. I was eager but already afraid of how I would feel in a few moments. He whipped my breasts with it first, very light blows that only intensified my hunger. He squeezed them after the tender spanking, and then nibbled at my nipples.
My sex was damp but since I was inverted there was nowhere for the moisture to go. My legs were spread wide and I felt exposed and vulnerable. I was tremendously excited when he turned to my buttocks at last, but I was frightened.
I had good reason to be afraid it turned out. The blows from his belt were loud and solid and unbelievably fast. Soon I was in terrible pain, my buttocks stinging remarkably, my heart pounding in my throat as I thought of how long this would continue. I trembled under the blows, shaking my entire body. I could feel my breasts and thighs and buttocks vibrate as I hung there and suffered the beating.
The smacks from the belt were so rapid there did not seem to be any break between the blows--it was like one continuous spank. The spanking was really hurting me now and I was crying and begging for mercy. But Jack knew me better than that. He didn't slow down at all but whipped me harder, more passionately. He began to whip me from above, hard downward blows that caught my bottom heavily and made me groan.
This when on for a great deal of time, though I have no idea how long. Then Jack began to whip between my legs, downward strokes across my naked sex. The pain was excruciating. I was instantly lost in a haze of pain and emotion. All I could think about was my body, the pain and pleasure I felt.
My crotch had never been whipped before, not really. Just a few strokes one time or another. This time it was a real whipping. It was devastating. I'm not sure how to describe it. The pain of each stroke threatened to knock me unconscious there was so much stimulation, and yet as soon as the belt was lifted I was flooded with the most wonderfully intense sexual pleasure I have ever felt. It was so strong I forgot all about the pain in my body and just lusted. My sex just oozed and pulsed and throbbed--and then in the midst of my revelry I'd receive another splat of the belt and the pain would wipe out everything else.
It kept going like for hours (at least it seemed that way). Blinding pain and then equally blinding pleasure. I was never so exhausted as when Jack unbound me that night and threw me on the ground and began to practically rape me. Oh, I wanted it--I wanted nothing else. It's just that I was so tired and weak I could barely move. Jack had to do all the work. Fortunately he's very good at it, and fair, making sure I receive pleasure too.
We made love half a dozen times, I think. My memory's rather hazy. I _do_ remember waking up the next morning, my body stiff and sore, but I didn't care. I felt sexually starved like I hadn't made love in months and I leapt upon Jack like an animal and fucked him silly.
Anyway, those are some of my experiences camping. It's been a few months since our last trip, but I'm ready. Jack says we will go for a weekend in a few weeks and I can't wait. I wonder what he's got planned this time...