boy wonderful is indeed a wonderful boy. He came through for me with flying colors. He called me back as I was in the Holland Tunnel, reporting that he was feeling good and ready to go. Once at chez b.w., I made chit chat with friends and staff and had some lasagna whilst he showered, ate, and prepared himself. No car service for friends and staff was available, so I said I'd be happy to drive everybody over, as they were coming to see the GMSMA dungeon demo. b.w. wanted us to go over alone though. Which was fine. Late, but not too late, I was informed by staff that b.w. was ready to go. There he was in front of the elevator, on his knees, face to the ground. I was deeply moved. I collared him for the night, we toook the elevator down, and drove over to the LURE. As we were late, the prime play space had been given away. I picked out a pillar that I thought would work well. After he checked our coats, I chained him to the pillar and we got busy.

Regular readers of SingleTails must get awfully bored of me waxing poetic on the joys of whipping. But I can't restrain myself. I made him fly. I opened up his back and his wings unfurled, and he was flying. I started with a flogging to get him warmed up. His back responds so beautifully, reddening deeply. I started with the mid-weight cow skin flogger, and then moved on to the stingier but perfect flogger with the thin, kangaroo tails. And then we started in with the whip. There was a slight problem we encountered in that the floor of the LURE is very uneven, and it through him off. He kept rotating around the pillar, trying to find some spot that wasn't so uneven, but there really wasn't one. He responded beautifully, yelping and grinning and just having a blast. At times I would approach him, and he would just back up and collapse into me. Just sublime. No wraps, no hits too high or too low.

It was all over too, too soon. I spritzed him down, dried him off, enfolded the two of us in the blue flannel flat sheet, and down we both went. He sobbed and shuddered and whispered 'Thank you, Sir, thank you, Sir, thank you' over and over. I left him in the privacy of the blue flannel flat sheet for a while while I packed up, and then lead him over to the bar where we had beers and perused the other demos going on. We received some high praise, both for the quality of my work, and for the passion and energy we displayed. "You guys looked like you were having a great time," said one observer. Truer words were never spoken. We were absolutely having a good time.

Then, we were both feeling a little exhausted, and it was time for... Top Aftercare! That meant back to chez b.w., where I had some more lasagna, some champagne, and sat in a comfy leather armchair while he curled on my feet in front of a fire. He talked, and I listened. He talked and talked and talked. And I listened.

Then, I placed my hand on the nape of his neck, partially covering the collar. I concentrated my energy on where I was touching him. He started to moan and writhe. His dick got rock hard. I recalled how a lesbian I used to know told me she had read in something Leslie B. Feinberg had written how a Stone Butch can make a woman cum just by her presence. I was cheating, since I was touching him, but I wanted to make him cum by the force of my will alone. And I did.

Finally, I told him that I was tired, and ordered him to build a fire in the fireplace in the bedroom. I told him I wanted him to massage my back until I fell asleep, and then said that he had earned a place in the bed, rather than sleeping outside the room on the floor. He worried that the energy he felt from me might be too intense and he wouldn't be able to get to sleep, but I said that I suspected that when exhaustion set in after the endorphins subsided, he would be out like a light. And he was. b.w. snores. Loudly. Lucky for him, this is not a problem with me, as I can sleep through anything.

This morning, I got up, worked my way up to the kitchen, and found some tea and a croissant in the freezer. I showered, dressed, and went down and roused my sleeping boy. He was all dewey and drowsy. I made him show me his back before I left. It looked great: a row of vertical cuts, about four or five inches in length, going form shoulderblade to shoulderblade. His back was still warm. I told him I would see him again next Sunday night, and we would talk before that, and I left.

I feel good today.