Welts and Memories

“I like the way you welt,” he whispered to me as we were at a gathering of other kinksters in a local bar.  A vanilla setting where we gathered weekly to meet and hang out with people of similar interest.  The talk was mixed in terms of vanilla topics and other things, and our conversation had been very friendly – joking, talking about projects, and commenting on a few photos of gorgeous women that people had found on Fetlife that day.  
It was between laughing and joking about something that he leaned over and said that into my ear as his hand rested on the small of my back. 
I looked at him, smiled, and said he did a good job welting me up a few weeks back.  “Did I say thank you for that?” I asked.
“You did, but it was my pleasure” was his reply.
Our conversation resumed back to whatever the group was talking about – but his hand remained.  
The week before, the conversation around the gathering was about him too.  A well known guy whose sadistic tendencies definitely precede him.  “Who would ever play with him?” people asked, then added, “ he scares me.”  
The friend of mine who knew the answer to that question contained his chuckle as he sought out my eyes.  Then grinned when he found them.  
Yep, I would.
That night was an interesting one.  I was doing my thing at the monthly part at the club – greeting those who were clearly outside of their element with the kink going on – when he came into the place.  After stashing his bag, he started making the rounds which included a huge hug for me – one that lifted me off my feet – his usual greeting with me.  When his arm remained around me as we talked, I knew I had an interested party that night.
Each time we came back together as the night progressed, his arm would wind itself around my waist as he waited for his chance to see how things were going with me.  I was doing my job, so I would flirt back and move on.
I had about 5 minutes left of my shift when he did it again.  This time I was talking to an annoying guy who was a bit too into himself.  Sensing the conversation was going off, his hand moved higher as he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back.  I was caught between trying not to be rude to the guy (who was rude) and letting myself savor the sensation that I love.  He simply chuckled and offered his apologies as he released me.  We continued to talk when he did it again – this time, I smiled, closed my eyes and moaned.  Screw the conversation – I was enjoying this a hell of a lot more.  The annoying guy left at this point, and I opened my eyes to him grinning at me. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”  I assured him he did but I didn’t care.
“What do you want tonight?”
Those were words to my ears.  “I want to be roughed up,” I answered plainly.
“I guess we should negotiate then.”
I told him what I liked, what I needed, and told him we’d sort out the rest.  He led me to the public play space, found a bench, and it was game on.
I got situated on the bench, and he unzipped my skirt so he could have access to my ass.  “I like zippers” he said with a smile in his voice.  He was the third guy who had said that as they unzipped my shirt, so it made me laugh.
He started with a warm-up and a spanking.  It was good and solid and thuddy the way I like it in the beginning.  He then paused to grab his bag.  The bag was huge.  I was in for it.
Out came his flogger – and he used it to continue his warm-up on my ass and back and thighs.  I flogger can feel like a rough massage to me, so I was enjoying it – relaxing and absorbing each blow.  Until a series of big blows hit.  I arched my back after each one – moaning into the bench.  I hurt, but it felt good.  
As he switched out implements, the moans continued.  The build up was intense.  Each new toy brought a new sensation – a new kind of hurt – a new kind of high.  I let my hair drop over my face as I found that place where the pain turned into pleasure.  Periodically a blow would surprise me and I would sit up a bit – usually swearing as I processed the blow.  
By the time he grabbed the single tail, I was plenty ready for it.  Each stroke felt like a bit of fire against my skin – concentrated fire.  In fact, I didn’t know what he was using until he snapped it next to me – the sound brought it into focus that I was getting a taste of his whip.  And I realized how much I was enjoying it.  Each snap he made to frighten me merely excited me as I waited for for the fire to begin again.  
He put down the whip and came close to check on me.  His hand grabbed my hair as he pulled me to a kneeling position on the bench – then pulled my head back.  I could only moan and relax into it, letting my head fall back where he was pulling it.  His other hand found my throat – and my moan got louder.  “I think I found something else you like, did I?” he asked.  “Oh yeah.” was all I could reply.  He released my hair, and began stroking the welts on my ass as his other hand remained on my throat.  He released me, and his hand slid to my back as he pushed me back into position. Once there, he left me to sort through his bag again for the next implement.
This pattern continued for the remained of the play time.  With the next implements, he got into my head a bit more – a bit of a mind fuck as he used his toys on me.  Telling me how to breath – making me relax so he could make sure I was pushed for the next round.  More hands in my hair and on my throat.  “I’m going to make sure that you have some great bruises now,” he bend down to say in my ear.  My hair was still hiding my face from him and me from the rest of what was happening in the play area.  I felt something large and flat on my ass as he lined up where he was going to swat.  Then I felt it land hard on one cheek.  The pain caused me to arch up against it as I know a string of profanity left my mouth as I processed the pain into a warm glow of pleasure.  He repeated the same on the left side causing the same reaction from me.   
“Uhm, stay right here. That last one broke open a welt and there is a small amount of blood. It’s all okay, just following the ‘no-blood’ rule,” he reassured me.
The dungeon masters were suddenly there to assess the situation.  He dabbed off the blood with a tissue and showed me there was barely any blood.  I was high and floaty, so I was fine.  He helped me get my skirt back on, I wiped down the bench as he stashed his bag again, and we went and sat together as I came down.  My ass was radiating heat – I could feel it through my skirt – and giggled as I made a similar comment to him.  He pulled me in for a hug as we talked some more.  This continued until he decided he was tired – and I was in need to move around.  We hugged again – a big hug that lifted me off my feet – I kissed him and thanked him for roughing me up.
“You and I will have to do this again.”
Oh yeah. Definitely.
Even if others feel he is scary, I found him to welt me up nicely.

What do you think?