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Surprise BDSM Party

I know that you're planning to beat me, because I saw you making sure that your favorite paddle was close at hand. But we're having some friends over, and I assume that it's going to be afterwards, like it usually is. I set about helping set up for the party, cleaning and doing dishes and the like, and eventually people start showing up. Several of our closest friends are over, and some of them brought friends too. I'm a little surprised by that, but I figure its not a big deal; anyone who my close friends trust I implicitly trust, at least enough to be in my house in broad daylight.

As everyone arrives, and starts to settle in for the usual idle social chatter that surrounds these things, I slouch into my favorite chair. You snap at me that I'm being a poor host, and to let someone else have the chair, while I do something useful, like get drinks for everyone. I'm a little surprised to be addressed this way in public, but there is steel in your voice and I find myself meekly acquiescing before I can even really consider doing otherwise. I go around the room and serve everyone drinks, with my cheeks burning; your tone was clearly noticed by everyone in the room, and everyone is smirking at me. I choke down the shame and just try to get the drink orders right. I'm sure I've got that, at least.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!?

I flinch visibly as you snap at me again. I look over and you are staring at the coffee you requested, with disgust on your face. You stare straight at me, across the room, and, into the dead silence, announce, "You know I HATE creamer. I only put milk in my coffee." You then turn to one of my close friends and complain, "You know, I train him and I train him, and some things he just doesn't learn." I'm mortified. I don't know what to say. It's one thing to have everyone in the room know to some degree or other that we are in a kinky relationship, its another thing to have it discussed so plainly. Worse, she answers. "Maybe you're not hitting him hard enough. Are you using enough follow-through in the wrist?"

Now everyone is chuckling. I'm thankful now that she has so neatly defused the situation with what is clearly a well-timed joke. Everyone is laughing and smiling, even you. But, with that same smile on your face, you answer. "I'm pretty sure. Here, why don't you show me what you mean?" And you beckon me over. The laughter continues, as I walk over, still unsure of what you have in mind. When I get to you, you wait expectantly for a few seconds, and then sigh exasperatedly. Turning to her, you say, "Do you see what I mean?" Turning back to me, you grab me, spin me around, and, before I can react, smack me loudly on the backside.

Silence reigns again. It wasn't a hard hit, as hits go, but it was as loud as a gunshot. My friend nonchalantly says "Well, its hard to tell with him all dressed and whatnot." You agree, and, as though you were asking for a cup of coffee, ask me to strip and lean over the ottoman.

Chuckles fill the room. I realize two things with a start; you must have planned this; and I don't have a choice anyway. A chill goes up my spine as I realize you are deliberately flaunting your authority and power over me in public, in front of some of my closest friends, and that you're so confident in that authority that you didn't bother to ask me. The strength of that power is intoxicating, and I feel my shame melting into submission as I disrobe and bend over.

You don't hesitate. I hear the paddle come out, and suddenly it starts.

SMACK

SMACK

SMACK

The sound of quiet conversation continues in the background. I know they're talking about me. What else could it be? Its hard to make out exact words, but then her voice cuts through like a bell. "I see the problem. You've got to switch up the spots, and move the wrist more. Pass me that paddle for a minute." I hold my breath, unsure of what you are going to do. My answer arrives in the form of a horrendous THWACK from a different angle.

THWACK

THWACK

"See? Look at him now. He's stopped anticipating the swings, and is just lying there." She is speaking conversationally as though discussing a football game. The rest of the party continues around us; I catch fragments of conversation, some of it about me, some of it about you, and some of it unrelated. I can sense that the level of general arousal in the room is rising.

"I've got an idea." Another one of my friends chirps up helpfully. "Try holding it like this, and then you can use this part like-"

SWAT

SWAT

The pain is like a wet red towel draped over my eyes. His muscles are clearly not just for show. I start to lose track of details. I can still hear phrases in the background.

"Look at his face. God, he really is a slut."

"Wow. I've never seen this side of him before."

"Holy crap, I've never seen that shade of purple on someone's skin."

"It's beautiful."

The impacts continue. I'm not sure who is holding the paddle. I'm not even sure its still just a paddle. I can't keep track. I can't keep count. Everything sort of starts to flow together. The ottoman, the ground, the paddle, all things become one somehow in my mind.

I wake up. I seem to have fallen off the ottoman somehow, and I'm lying on the floor, on a cushion. I can't have been out too long; everything is still fuzzy. But I do recognize your face, as you suckle my cock to erection with your mouth. I feel the sensation of some sort of ring or band around my shaft; you must have used it to force an erection.

Someone's cock is in my face. Without thinking, I open my mouth and accept it. I realize suddenly that nobody is dressed anymore. The party has become an orgy, as all of my friends and lovers converge on or near me in a celebration of life and lust. She leans in close and helps me with his cock. You stop sucking mine, and then someone mounts it. I recognize that backside, but for the life of me I can't connect it to a name or face. I reach out and find a spectacular set of tits by my hand, and knead them. I realize suddenly that the cock is gone, and someone is lowering their cunt down upon me. I know this smell. I know this taste. This is love. Suddenly sound seems to cut back in, as though I had earplugs on up until now. The room is filled with laughter, and moans, and the sounds of sex and lust. I hear her cum, loudly. I happily realize that that must be her backside. I loll my head to the side, and I see two of my other friends, happily conjoined and pistoning away like a well-oiled machine. They see me looking, wink, and go back to their fuck. I look up, and I see you looking down at me, naked and glorious.

"You do remember that you have a safeword, right?" At my silence, you shake your head again, sighing as you lower yourself onto me. "See what I have to deal with?"I know that you're planning to beat me, because I saw you making sure that your favorite paddle was close at hand. But we're having some friends over, and I assume that it's going to be afterwards, like it usually is. I set about helping set up for the party, cleaning and doing dishes and the like, and eventually people start showing up. Several of our closest friends are over, and some of them brought friends too. I'm a little surprised by that, but I figure its not a big deal; anyone who my close friends trust I implicitly trust, at least enough to be in my house in broad daylight.

As everyone arrives, and starts to settle in for the usual idle social chatter that surrounds these things, I slouch into my favorite chair. You snap at me that I'm being a poor host, and to let someone else have the chair, while I do something useful, like get drinks for everyone. I'm a little surprised to be addressed this way in public, but there is steel in your voice and I find myself meekly acquiescing before I can even really consider doing otherwise. I go around the room and serve everyone drinks, with my cheeks burning; your tone was clearly noticed by everyone in the room, and everyone is smirking at me. I choke down the shame and just try to get the drink orders right. I'm sure I've got that, at least.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!?

I flinch visibly as you snap at me again. I look over and you are staring at the coffee you requested, with disgust on your face. You stare straight at me, across the room, and, into the dead silence, announce, "You know I HATE creamer. I only put milk in my coffee." You then turn to one of my close friends and complain, "You know, I train him and I train him, and some things he just doesn't learn." I'm mortified. I don't know what to say. It's one thing to have everyone in the room know to some degree or other that we are in a kinky relationship, its another thing to have it discussed so plainly. Worse, she answers. "Maybe you're not hitting him hard enough. Are you using enough follow-through in the wrist?"

Now everyone is chuckling. I'm thankful now that she has so neatly defused the situation with what is clearly a well-timed joke. Everyone is laughing and smiling, even you. But, with that same smile on your face, you answer. "I'm pretty sure. Here, why don't you show me what you mean?" And you beckon me over. The laughter continues, as I walk over, still unsure of what you have in mind. When I get to you, you wait expectantly for a few seconds, and then sigh exasperatedly. Turning to her, you say, "Do you see what I mean?" Turning back to me, you grab me, spin me around, and, before I can react, smack me loudly on the backside.

Silence reigns again. It wasn't a hard hit, as hits go, but it was as loud as a gunshot. My friend nonchalantly says "Well, its hard to tell with him all dressed and whatnot." You agree, and, as though you were asking for a cup of coffee, ask me to strip and lean over the ottoman.

Chuckles fill the room. I realize two things with a start; you must have planned this; and I don't have a choice anyway. A chill goes up my spine as I realize you are deliberately flaunting your authority and power over me in public, in front of some of my closest friends, and that you're so confident in that authority that you didn't bother to ask me. The strength of that power is intoxicating, and I feel my shame melting into submission as I disrobe and bend over.

You don't hesitate. I hear the paddle come out, and suddenly it starts.

SMACK

SMACK

SMACK

The sound of quiet conversation continues in the background. I know they're talking about me. What else could it be? Its hard to make out exact words, but then her voice cuts through like a bell. "I see the problem. You've got to switch up the spots, and move the wrist more. Pass me that paddle for a minute." I hold my breath, unsure of what you are going to do. My answer arrives in the form of a horrendous THWACK from a different angle.

THWACK

THWACK

"See? Look at him now. He's stopped anticipating the swings, and is just lying there." She is speaking conversationally as though discussing a football game. The rest of the party continues around us; I catch fragments of conversation, some of it about me, some of it about you, and some of it unrelated. I can sense that the level of general arousal in the room is rising.

"I've got an idea." Another one of my friends chirps up helpfully. "Try holding it like this, and then you can use this part like-"

SWAT

SWAT

The pain is like a wet red towel draped over my eyes. His muscles are clearly not just for show. I start to lose track of details. I can still hear phrases in the background.

"Look at his face. God, he really is a slut."

"Wow. I've never seen this side of him before."

"Holy crap, I've never seen that shade of purple on someone's skin."

"It's beautiful."

The impacts continue. I'm not sure who is holding the paddle. I'm not even sure its still just a paddle. I can't keep track. I can't keep count. Everything sort of starts to flow together. The ottoman, the ground, the paddle, all things become one somehow in my mind.

I wake up. I seem to have fallen off the ottoman somehow, and I'm lying on the floor, on a cushion. I can't have been out too long; everything is still fuzzy. But I do recognize your face, as you suckle my cock to erection with your mouth. I feel the sensation of some sort of ring or band around my shaft; you must have used it to force an erection.

Someone's cock is in my face. Without thinking, I open my mouth and accept it. I realize suddenly that nobody is dressed anymore. The party has become an orgy, as all of my friends and lovers converge on or near me in a celebration of life and lust. She leans in close and helps me with his cock. You stop sucking mine, and then someone mounts it. I recognize that backside, but for the life of me I can't connect it to a name or face. I reach out and find a spectacular set of tits by my hand, and knead them. I realize suddenly that the cock is gone, and someone is lowering their cunt down upon me. I know this smell. I know this taste. This is love. Suddenly sound seems to cut back in, as though I had earplugs on up until now. The room is filled with laughter, and moans, and the sounds of sex and lust. I hear her cum, loudly. I happily realize that that must be her backside. I loll my head to the side, and I see two of my other friends, happily conjoined and pistoning away like a well-oiled machine. They see me looking, wink, and go back to their fuck. I look up, and I see you looking down at me, naked and glorious.

"You do remember that you have a safeword, right?" At my silence, you shake your head again, sighing as you lower yourself onto me. "See what I have to deal with?"

surprise   bdsm   party  

Apr 30, 2018 in bdsm

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