"You'll only speak if I give you a direct question," I informed her. "And you're allowed to make eye contact." The thrill of commanding someone never went away; it was like a drug, powerful and addictive.

She rose up at my behest, and I steered her towards the massive St. Andrews cross. It was wooden and entirely black with padding for comfort, though comfort was the last thing on my mind tonight.

Emma's eyes widened as she figured out why I'd led her here. She shifted her eyes to me.

She suddenly looked insecure, which I could understand. The cross could look frightening for anyone who wasn't used to it, but the furniture could be both for pleasure and pain. Luckily for her, she would experience both.

When she stepped towards it and turned to me, like she suspected she would be fastened with her back to it, I had to correct her. "Other way around, facing the cross."

With a noticeable swallow, she followed my directions. I stepped closer and grabbed her right hand. Reaching in front of her for the padded handcuff fastened to one of the beams, I restrained her. I heard her breath hitch as I tightened it around her wrist, but she didn't say anything. I went ahead and restrained her other wrist too. Next, I bonded her legs. She had to spread them considerably, but not enough to get hurt.

Retreating a couple of steps, I studied her. Her arms and leads were spread–like a cross–and she looked absolutely glorious in this position. I knew she was waiting for whatever came next, but I liked to build the suspense, so I was in no hurry to get started.

Her round, juicy ass drew my attention. I knew how great they felt in my hand, soft and deliciously spankable. The garter belt seemed to frame it, and fuck if I wasn't happy that I'd thought to tell her to put it under her panties, so they didn't have to come off as well.

After a few minutes, I felt she'd waited enough and went to grab what I would need for the first part. It was a flog with elk leather; it was a soft type of leather perfect for warmups since it only gave a light sting. I planned on upping the ante, but I didn't want to give her more than she could handle. No, it was better to start easy and work our way up.

Walking back towards her, I trailed the leather across her body, letting her feel the flails, so she knew what to expect.

"This type of leather will only give a light sting," I explained, sliding it from one bare shoulder to the next before moving down her back. She shivered from the feeling, and I could see goosebumps appearing along her body.

Stepping back, I asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir," she answered, her voice shaky and nervous.

Taking a deep breath, I struck her upper back. The medium thud of the impact filled the room before Emma's intake could be heard. Waiting for a second, but with no objections from her, I continued, striking again, and again, and again.

There was a unique technique to flogging someone. If done wrong, it could be dangerous. I needed to be in control at all times and not slip up or become unfocused. I had to steer clear of certain areas, like the kidneys, and avoid wrapping–when the tails wrapped around a curved part of the body.

I aimed at different parts of her but always kept to the safe zones like her upper back, ass, thighs, and legs. By the time I was done with the warmup, she was pretty and slightly pink. Her breathing had gotten heavier, and I knew she liked this as much as I did.

Switching to another flog, I walked closer to her. Leaning in, I spoke directly into her ear, "Did you enjoy it?"

"I did, Sir. I loved it," she said eagerly, and I could tell she was already eager for more. Her body was buzzing with need, to get flogged or to get fucked, I didn't know. Probably both.

Unable to help myself, I slid a hand around her front and down to her slit. Her pussy was slick with her arousal, and a finger slid in easily. Her walls clamped down on it like it didn't want to let me go.

Emma moaned as she tried to ride my finger, desperate for the slightest of touch. She would have to wait. I wasn't done yet–not by a long shot.

Withdrawing my finger, I let her feel the tails again as I brushed the new flog against her skin. "This is called a combo, which is half suede and half oiled leather. It'll sting more, but I think you'll find it pleasurable."

Moving away from her, I told her, "I'll strike you three times. Each one will be harder than the next. I want you to tell me which one you prefer," I told her.

The first one was on the softer side on her upper back, but still had a decent sting to it. I put more force into the next, and lastly, I hit even harder.

She cried out at the last hit, and a shudder went through her.

"Which one did you like the most?" I asked, hoping for the last one. I liked to inflict pain as much as I enjoyed giving pleasure, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it.

There was a beauty to pain. Most people tried to avoid it at all costs, both the emotional and physical side. Others gravitated towards it, seeing it for what I saw it, submission of the rawest nature. The pain was what bounded people together. It could be scary, sure, but when you submitted to it and overcame that fright, nothing else could stop you.

Inflicting pain on others wasn't something I liked because I was cruel. It was a way for me to connect, to see someone vulnerable and open to me. They trusted me to give them what they needed, while I trusted them to let me know if I'd crossed any boundaries.

"The last one," she answered breathlessly. From the sound of it, she'd almost come from the pain alone. The moans she made had me wondering if I hadn't been too careful with her. But I hadn't wanted to start out too strong, not with her and especially not when it was her first time being flogged.

"Good girl," I said. I didn't give her a warning as I struck her again. She cried out at the first hit to her ass and arched her back involuntarily. I flogged her ass several times before moving on to another part. Each time, she whimpered, but she didn't use her safe word or ask me to stop.

Flogging someone was almost like painting to me. Emma was like a blank canvas and the tails like a paintbrush, coloring streaks of red across her skin.

My cock was painfully hard and so fucking uncomfortable in my pants. It throbbed with each hit and each whimper or moan. I was breathing just as heavily as Emma was, but not out of exertion from handling the flog.

Emma exceeded even my imagination and hope with how she was taking the flogging. She was such a graceful and submissive woman, taking whatever I chose to give her.

Thud. The sound was so fucking satisfying as the tails hit her skin, but not more enjoyable than the sounds Emma made.

Thud. Emma's back bowed as I hit her upper back again.

Thud. Another hit.

Thud. And another.

I couldn't get over how perfect she was. She was everything I had dreamed about and more. Sweat clung to my skin, and my chest moved rhythmically as I breathed, slowly and controlled.

On the last few strikes, I put more force into it, testing her limits as the tails cracked over her ass, making them jiggle. All she did was moan, as she almost pushed her ass out to meet the hits.

"Such a beautiful pain slut," I commented and threw the flog down on the ground. Emma's breath hitched at my compliment, and I smiled at how easy it was to affect her.

Taking a couple steps from her, I paused to admire my handy work. Her upper back, ass, and thighs were red and swollen, a huge contrast to her otherwise perfect white skin. She was magnificent like this, tied up and red from the marks made by me. I couldn't wait for her to heal just so I could do it all over again.

Flogging her had been more erotic than anything I'd ever experienced. As much as I wanted to fuck her hard against the cross, there was something else I had to do first.

I took another picture of her, with a message we all had been waiting to find out. Our submissive took it like a good little pain slut.

Focusing back on her, I asked, "Tell me, have you ever done anal play before?"