We had planned to go to the event a week or so beforehand, but this time she said there would be a bit of a twist. She wanted us to wear masks the entire time and not be our usual social selves. Between the two of us we know a decent number of people at public events so we usually spend a majority of the time socializing rather than playing.
This time was going to be different. This time she only wanted to play.
We hopped off the subway and when we were about a block away we slipped our masks on. Both masks covered our faces enough that it would be nearly impossible to tell who we were less you knew our eyes and lips terribly well.
A few people looked, trying to scope us out as we walked through to the back. One close friend of ours recognized us right away but She put her finger to her lips and with a wink the friend knew that we weren’t there to visit. Maybe they recognized one of the items she was wearing– or as I suspect they might have recognized the glint in her eyes.
We found a spot next to the dance floor. Most events in New York take place in bars that have been temporarily converted to a kinky space. You’ll see a spanking bench in the middle of a dance floor, a St Andrews cross next to the bar and other varieties of kinky equipment here and there, but, for the most part- it’s still a bar. We were there for only a few minutes when she motioned for me to climb over her knee before proceeding to give me the single longest spanking of my life.
Two relentless hours shifting rhythmically between stinging open palms and brutal paddles. Most of the time was spent over her knee, but now and then she’d force me to wobbly feet, bracing me against the bench or the wall-whichever position of supplication currently amused her most.
It was never ending. People milled around us was in awe, murmuring their appreciation while a few people approached to offer her fresh glasses of ice water (maybe they were worried she’d get thirsty and stop– or maybe they were hoping they could be next on the receiving end of her hand). At times it would get so intense that my knees would buckle and I’d fall to the floor. She’d give me a few minutes to recover but it wouldn’t be long before she’d put me back in whatever position she wanted me in.
By the end I was incoherent, drooling, and raw. She held me until I was able to stand up and limp out the door. I checked the time and it had been over two hours since we arrived. Two long hours getting my ass beat. Only a few minutes had been spent doing anything but.
She was a machine and my ass was tender for days afterwards.
The next day a friend emailed me asking me why we didn’t go to the party. I told her we were too busy.
Maybe we’ll bring out the masks again someday soon.