Saturday evening. Dinner with Rose. Photo night with Rose. Sitting on Rose’s lap. Rose joining us for a drink after the cocktail party. See a pattern? What shall I blame for what I said? The noise at the cocktail party? The one glass of wine I had at the cocktail party or the two glasses of wine I had at the hotel? The late hour? The sexy talk?
Or shall I just come right out and say that I was curious and I said it. For once I said what I was curious about, then I stood up to go to the loo and when I came back, it was decided: we were all going up to our room in the hotel and Rose would get her carpet beater on the way up. Who were we? Rose and Master T, obviously, but also Mr. & Mrs. Stranded.
Now, I must tell you that when we spoke about this carpet beater, I had a traditional carpet beater in mind. You know? The one that almost looks like a flower and is made of something resembling bamboo, but probably might just be wood. That is what I had in mind. Halfway up to our room we stopped the lift and waited for Rose to get her carpet beater. My eyes grew wide when I realized that it was something totally different from what I had in mind. It was made of a looped electrical wire that was covered with some kind of fabric. This was going to hurt – I knew it before we started.
In the bedroom Mr. & Mrs. Stranded took their places on the small bench we had in our room. I pulled my dress over my head and lay down on the bed, in the prone position (see what I did there, Lily?). Thinking back on it, I am surprised at how at ease I felt with these people. I tend to feel shy and have to be told by Master T to undress, but this time I did it before I have been told, as I knew exactly what was expected of me.
Rose was looking fabulous in her black dress, the zipper down to show some cleavage, the red belt around the middle and her sweet striped stockings with the bright red hearts in the front. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and held together with a red band, and she was wearing her glasses. Looking at the photos afterward, I could see she was immensely enjoying herself. Funnily enough, both the crop and the carpet beater fitted in perfectly with her outfit! Yes, Rose had a crop with her too, which she used to warm up my bottom.
The crop hurt, but I stayed in place. Moaning and groaning yes, but not as much as I did once Rose started with the carpet beater. OMG, that thing hurt. It was like a very deep tissue massage with a sting. Rose was on my left and when she hit my right ass cheek, it did not hurt as much as when she hit the left one. The reason for this was that the tip of the carpet beater curled to between my ass cheeks and touched the soft and tender flesh there. The warming up of my bottom, with the crop lasted only about three minutes (I checked the time stamps on the photos) and then the beating with the carpet beater started. That lasted about 12 minutes before I could not take it anymore.
I went from moaning to groaning to moaning louder and having Master T reminding me that we might have neighbors in the next room and they would not appreciate how loud I was. I tried to be softer but damn, it hurt so much and I could not stop the moaning. There was a moment when I zoned out a bit. I remember feeling the thuds, but not feeling the pain. It returned however, and maybe even hurt more than before. When I could take no more, I rolled over onto my side, away from Rose. She immediately stopped.
(click to enlarge & browse)
There was some conversation behind me (I had to check with Master T the next day what was said, as I only remembered snippets of it) and then Mrs. Stranded sat down on the other side. Rose stroked my arm, while Mrs. Stranded moved her arm from my back, where her arm felt warm against my skin, to my bottom where her arm felt wonderfully cool. The aftercare took almost double the time that it took for Rose to beat up my bottom. When I sat up I knew I was going to be sore the next day, and I was. The conference chairs felt extra hard and only on the next Saturday, a week after the beating, the tenderness was entirely gone, but it was still beautifully colored.
This is an experience I look back upon with fondness. I have not felt uncomfortable for even one second and I wonder, had it not been that late (3am in the morning), what else would have happened? And, will I offer my bottom to Rose again? You bet I will!
© Rebel’s Notes