The idea of being flogged appeals to me.
The idea of flogging me appeals to my husband.
The idea of holding or being struck with an implement that is made from the stripped hide of a gentle creature who probably lived its entire life in misery before being terrifyingly slaughtered, though, is not sexy to either of us. Neither of us could focus on sex or erotic punishment with an elephant like that in the room. We don't consume meat, dairy, or eggs - why would we relent on our principles for a bit of impact play? We wouldn't. He can hit me with many other objects. We haven't needed a flogger.
So we've not had a flogger. For years. I haven't been flogged, ever. He's never flogged anyone.
That's a lie.
I made us two nylon floggers. A bigger one for distances, a smaller one for closer. He's a fan of closer. I'm quite pleased with them. He was impressed by them; and a little intimidated.
|They're actually more purple than this|
His arms are also long, so the bigger one wound up being too long for him, and he asked me to make a medium one.
That will not a problem.