While I've posted a description of this flogging previously, I don't think I adequately described what for me was a major landmark event. On July 28, 2002 I was flogged outdoors in San Francisco by Al (Leatherback) at the Dore Alley Street Fair (also known as Up Your Alley). This was my first session with Al, and plans were made weeks in advance. I'd been taking what I thought were fairly heavy lashings by now, and for years I had been whipping myself, but I was eager to get a flogging so severe, that it would take me beyond anything I could bear. At that time Al had a website which I'd been admiring, or should I say "drooling over" for a couple of years. It depicted the backs of men and women with severe welts, bruises and sometimes cuts that could only have come with really severe or extreme pain. Also men's chests and even female breasts were displayed with marks of the lash. Not only had they willingly endured this suffering, but they'd also all consented to have the photos on the web site. Many of the most severely flogged had their "artwork" done by Al, and careful credit was given to other whip artists for their work as well. Just how much pain (or pleasure) they endured was a mystery to me then, but I knew it had to be a lot, and I was somehow drawn to their suffering. I wanted their pain, no matter how bad it was. I just wanted to be them. You see, ever since I was a young boy and saw my first flogging scenes on TV and movies, I got more excited over it than anything else. And the more I saw fear in the faces of men facing such a punishment and the more desperation and agony I saw on them when they were taking it, the more intensely I liked it and desired it. In fact, hearing things like how some big burly sailors had to be restrained to keep them from jumping overboard, to certain death by drowning, to avoid the fearsome cat o'nine tails, only made me crave it more. Around 1999 or 2000, I tried entering words like "flog," "whip" and "lashes" into internet search engines. To my surprise and delight, I found not only many web sites dedicated to historical floggings, but sites and online groups for present day enthusiasts as well. It took me a while to sift through everything. Before I made it to any of the Yahoo groups, I managed to read some of the historical accounts, and found even more reason to be excited. I don't know why, but my heart raced when I read accounts of stiff sentences of not just dozens of devastating lashes, but sentences of hundreds or even thousands of lashes! I'd never seen anything like it before, and had never mentioned to a soul how this subject excited me. At first it was liberating for me to just be able to share my feelings with others in the online groups. And soon I was searching for everything I could find about people taking lashings in the present and collecting all the photos of welt covered backs that I could find. When I found Al's site, I was so taken by the photos that for over a year I never even noticed that he was in my state of California! One night I sent Al an email to compliment him on his fine web site and how much I admired (and craved) the severity of his work on these people. When he wrote back saying he'd gladly flog me, I nearly went through the roof. Almost too good, and too scary to be true. For a day or so I agonized over whether I would take him up on it, or not and hate myself for the rest of my life. There was really no question. I'd long ago decided to go for the worst flogging I could get any chance I got. We made plans, and went back and forth by email and phone for weeks. This was good as it gave me a chance to get to know Al and it gave him a chance to discover what I wanted and how to translate it into action. As the Dore Alley Fair drew closer, I was able to articulate how I wanted a punishment grade flogging, with him holding nothing back, and please don't spare me any pain! Yeah, I wanted it to hurt like hell and a lot more. No less severe than what the subjects on his website suffered. He agreed and I was excited and overjoyed. Al suggested two dozen laid on heavy with a cat, but only after about 20 full force strokes with an oil-tanned leather flogger. But he assured me that if I didn't feel punished enough, I could use a code word and get another two dozen on my back. And he agreed to flog my chest as well. I just hoped that it would all be severe enough, and if it was, that I would manage to take all of it. After all this might be the only time in my life I got it so severe, or it could be one of many. I didn't know how I'd react, or even if my contact lenses would stay on. Little did I know ... When the day of the Dore Alley Fair arrived, it was not quite two weeks since my last flogging, and I felt ready for anything. I was stripped to the waist, with leather cuffs on my wrists, attached by ropes to a traffic control fence. When the rope was pulled tight and I could feel the tension in my body it felt good. My chest and back were not shaved this time and I tend to be quite hairy. The first strokes with the flogger hit my bare back with a force I wasn't expecting. This flogger (20 tails or more), produced a heavy thud. But being oil-tanned, it is less forgiving than other floggers I'd taken. With the right movement, it can sting like hell. The first lash shocked ne at how severe it was. Yes, this guy was using at least twice or three times more force than what I was used to. As the 2nd and subsequent lashes fell on my back, I felt like I was outside my element. There was no question now that Al was a man of his word, and he was giving me everything I asked for. Now, could I keep my end of the bargain? Was I ready for prime time after all? I just grit my teeth and hoped I could make it through the flogging with this first whip. If I could keep from safewording and at least finish this round, I could always quit after that. Not wanting to let him down, nor myself, I knew this was my moment! I hung in and when, this round was over and I was ever so relieved. I'd almost forgotten that this was to be followed up with the REAL punishment with the cat. After pausing to take a photo or two of my back, Al took out the cat o'nine tails which he'd made specifically to use on me, and somehow, I managed to hold my tongue. This one, which he called a "prison cat" has 9 unknotted tails made of nylon. I knew by now that Al had a heavy hand, and I'd be tested. Could this be any worse than the flogger? I didn't have to wait long to find out. The first lash was a real shocker and the pain nearly knocked me over. Before it hit my back, the tails made an almost musical sound as they rushed through the air at high speed. He counted out the strokes as the tails made this "wooshing" sound. Each lash that followed just put me in excruciating pain. This was something I'd dreamed of and wanted to experience, but after 6 or 7 it was beyond unbearable and I didn't think I'd finish the whole sentence. After 12 lashes Al stopped and photographed the carnage on my back. When he asked how I was doing, I am amazed that I didn't yell "red." Part of me was going to yell it and the other part of me resisted. Maybe I reasoned with myself that having survived the first dozen, I could make the home stretch, or maybe I was beyond reason at this point. I don't know, but I asked if he'd slow down for the rest and that did help. When he started up again, I was again shocked by the impact and pain. Each new lash was brutal and worse as lashes were cris-crossing on my back and I could feel the skin being torn, but at least now I had some recovery time between strokes. Maybe by the 18th lash I realized I'd make it after all. Though the bruising and flesh cutting of the lash was getting even more horrendous, I started to feel at peace and knew I was exactly where I needed to be, and fortunately, Al was not letting up on the severity of the strokes, so my dream was being fulfilled. Oddly, as the final lash approached, I started to think I could endure a few more, but was happy it was over. Part of me wanted to yell for another two dozen, but I remained silent. When it stopped my back felt ablaze with pain, but I really liked it. This cat left my back hurting for days, and the first night I was unable to sleep. It left nice "tire tracks" on my back for several days. I was grateful to be flogged with it, and I've never forgotten how wonderful it felt to be hurting so bad! I was turned around and secured for a chest flogging. First, I received several lashes with the many-tailed oil-tanned flogger. As he laid it on with more and more force I could feel him whipping the hell out of my pecs. Just when it seemed to become unbearable, I sort of realized that I liked it. There was something wonderfully exciting about getting hit so brutally and repeatedly on my pecs and nipples that the pleasure soon outweighed the pain. It left some nice bruises close to my nipples. Two or three lashes with the prison cat were laid on my chest full force, and those were really unbearable, but I'm glad I took them. At least a dozen followed with a 4' single-tail, a snake whip. After the flogger and cat, the single tail seemed pretty tame, but it left far more visible marks and some nice cuts on my chest. When the beating stopped, my back and chest were hurting more than I ever thought they could, but I was loving it! While the blood on my back and chest was drying out in the sun, I walked around the Dore Alley Street Fair shirtless, checking out the sights and BDSM toys set out for sale. The area was full of people for the event and all had paid $3.00 to enter, so the area wasn't exactly full of old ladies shopping for vegetables. Some people came up to me and asked if they could photograph my back. and I was flattered, and some wanted to photo my chest as well. I'd always been a shy guy who in the past had trouble asking for what I wanted, so I was not used to this much attention, but I didn't mind it either. I would later relish the way I felt that day and the glow that stayed with me for days afterwards. Some marks left by the snake whip took well over 10 days to disappear off my chest. The marks of the cat, which was more painful, did not last as long. While I've posted a description of this flogging previously, I don't think I adequately described what for me was a major landmark event. On July 28, 2002 I was flogged outdoors in San Francisco by Al (Leatherback) at the Dore Alley Street Fair (also known as Up Your Alley). This was my first session with Al, and plans were made weeks in advance. I'd been taking what I thought were fairly heavy lashings by now, and for years I had been whipping myself, but I was eager to get a flogging so severe, that it would take me beyond anything I could bear. At that time Al had a website which I'd been admiring, or should I say "drooling over" for a couple of years. It depicted the backs of men and women with severe welts, bruises and sometimes cuts that could only have come with really severe or extreme pain. Also men's chests and even female breasts were displayed with marks of the lash. Not only had they willingly endured this suffering, but they'd also all consented to have the photos on the web site. Many of the most severely flogged had their "artwork" done by Al, and careful credit was given to other whip artists for their work as well. Just how much pain (or pleasure) they endured was a mystery to me then, but I knew it had to be a lot, and I was somehow drawn to their suffering. I wanted their pain, no matter how bad it was. I just wanted to be them. You see, ever since I was a young boy and saw my first flogging scenes on TV and movies, I got more excited over it than anything else. And the more I saw fear in the faces of men facing such a punishment and the more desperation and agony I saw on them when they were taking it, the more intensely I liked it and desired it. In fact, hearing things like how some big burly sailors had to be restrained to keep them from jumping overboard, to certain death by drowning, to avoid the fearsome cat o'nine tails, only made me crave it more. Around 1999 or 2000, I tried entering words like "flog," "whip" and "lashes" into internet search engines. To my surprise and delight, I found not only many web sites dedicated to historical floggings, but sites and online groups for present day enthusiasts as well. It took me a while to sift through everything. Before I made it to any of the Yahoo groups, I managed to read some of the historical accounts, and found even more reason to be excited. I don't know why, but my heart raced when I read accounts of stiff sentences of not just dozens of devastating lashes, but sentences of hundreds or even thousands of lashes! I'd never seen anything like it before, and had never mentioned to a soul how this subject excited me. At first it was liberating for me to just be able to share my feelings with others in the online groups. And soon I was searching for everything I could find about people taking lashings in the present and collecting all the photos of welt covered backs that I could find. When I found Al's site, I was so taken by the photos that for over a year I never even noticed that he was in my state of California! One night I sent Al an email to compliment him on his fine web site and how much I admired (and craved) the severity of his work on these people. When he wrote back saying he'd gladly flog me, I nearly went through the roof. Almost too good, and too scary to be true. For a day or so I agonized over whether I would take him up on it, or not and hate myself for the rest of my life. There was really no question. I'd long ago decided to go for the worst flogging I could get any chance I got. We made plans, and went back and forth by email and phone for weeks. This was good as it gave me a chance to get to know Al and it gave him a chance to discover what I wanted and how to translate it into action. As the Dore Alley Fair drew closer, I was able to articulate how I wanted a punishment grade flogging, with him holding nothing back, and please don't spare me any pain! Yeah, I wanted it to hurt like hell and a lot more. No less severe than what the subjects on his website suffered. He agreed and I was excited and overjoyed. Al suggested two dozen laid on heavy with a cat, but only after about 20 full force strokes with an oil-tanned leather flogger. But he assured me that if I didn't feel punished enough, I could use a code word and get another two dozen on my back. And he agreed to flog my chest as well. I just hoped that it would all be severe enough, and if it was, that I would manage to take all of it. After all this might be the only time in my life I got it so severe, or it could be one of many. I didn't know how I'd react, or even if my contact lenses would stay on. Little did I know ... When the day of the Dore Alley Fair arrived, it was not quite two weeks since my last flogging, and I felt ready for anything. I was stripped to the waist, with leather cuffs on my wrists, attached by ropes to a traffic control fence. When the rope was pulled tight and I could feel the tension in my body it felt good. My chest and back were not shaved this time and I tend to be quite hairy. The first strokes with the flogger hit my bare back with a force I wasn't expecting. This flogger (20 tails or more), produced a heavy thud. But being oil-tanned, it is less forgiving than other floggers I'd taken. With the right movement, it can sting like hell. The first lash shocked ne at how severe it was. Yes, this guy was using at least twice or three times more force than what I was used to. As the 2nd and subsequent lashes fell on my back, I felt like I was outside my element. There was no question now that Al was a man of his word, and he was giving me everything I asked for. Now, could I keep my end of the bargain? Was I ready for prime time after all? I just grit my teeth and hoped I could make it through the flogging with this first whip. If I could keep from safewording and at least finish this round, I could always quit after that. Not wanting to let him down, nor myself, I knew this was my moment! I hung in and when, this round was over and I was ever so relieved. I'd almost forgotten that this was to be followed up with the REAL punishment with the cat. After pausing to take a photo or two of my back, Al took out the cat o'nine tails which he'd made specifically to use on me, and somehow, I managed to hold my tongue. This one, which he called a "prison cat" has 9 unknotted tails made of nylon. I knew by now that Al had a heavy hand, and I'd be tested. Could this be any worse than the flogger? I didn't have to wait long to find out. The first lash was a real shocker and the pain nearly knocked me over. Before it hit my back, the tails made an almost musical sound as they rushed through the air at high speed. He counted out the strokes as the tails made this "wooshing" sound. Each lash that followed just put me in excruciating pain. This was something I'd dreamed of and wanted to experience, but after 6 or 7 it was beyond unbearable and I didn't think I'd finish the whole sentence. After 12 lashes Al stopped and photographed the carnage on my back. When he asked how I was doing, I am amazed that I didn't yell "red." Part of me was going to yell it and the other part of me resisted. Maybe I reasoned with myself that having survived the first dozen, I could make the home stretch, or maybe I was beyond reason at this point. I don't know, but I asked if he'd slow down for the rest and that did help. When he started up again, I was again shocked by the impact and pain. Each new lash was brutal and worse as lashes were cris-crossing on my back and I could feel the skin being torn, but at least now I had some recovery time between strokes. Maybe by the 18th lash I realized I'd make it after all. Though the bruising and flesh cutting of the lash was getting even more horrendous, I started to feel at peace and knew I was exactly where I needed to be, and fortunately, Al was not letting up on the severity of the strokes, so my dream was being fulfilled. Oddly, as the final lash approached, I started to think I could endure a few more, but was happy it was over. Part of me wanted to yell for another two dozen, but I remained silent. When it stopped my back felt ablaze with pain, but I really liked it. This cat left my back hurting for days, and the first night I was unable to sleep. It left nice "tire tracks" on my back for several days. I was grateful to be flogged with it, and I've never forgotten how wonderful it felt to be hurting so bad! I was turned around and secured for a chest flogging. First, I received several lashes with the many-tailed oil-tanned flogger. As he laid it on with more and more force I could feel him whipping the hell out of my pecs. Just when it seemed to become unbearable, I sort of realized that I liked it. There was something wonderfully exciting about getting hit so brutally and repeatedly on my pecs and nipples that the pleasure soon outweighed the pain. It left some nice bruises close to my nipples. Two or three lashes with the prison cat were laid on my chest full force, and those were really unbearable, but I'm glad I took them. At least a dozen followed with a 4' single-tail, a snake whip. After the flogger and cat, the single tail seemed pretty tame, but it left far more visible marks and some nice cuts on my chest. When the beating stopped, my back and chest were hurting more than I ever thought they could, but I was loving it! While the blood on my back and chest was drying out in the sun, I walked around the Dore Alley Street Fair shirtless, checking out the sights and BDSM toys set out for sale. The area was full of people for the event and all had paid $3.00 to enter, so the area wasn't exactly full of old ladies shopping for vegetables. Some people came up to me and asked if they could photograph my back. and I was flattered, and some wanted to photo my chest as well. I'd always been a shy guy who in the past had trouble asking for what I wanted, so I was not used to this much attention, but I didn't mind it either. I would later relish the way I felt that day and the glow that stayed with me for days afterwards. Some marks left by the snake whip took well over 10 days to disappear off my chest. The marks of the cat, which was more painful, did not last as long. This experience, while extremely painful, left me craving for more! While it was happening, I didn't think I could stand it and figured this would be my one and only time to take such a flogging. But it turned out that this unbearable, "heavier-than-I-can-take" punishment was just exactly what I was looking for and had fantasized about for years. Al actually knew what I wanted better than I did. It wasn't long before I was arranging more sessions with Al and wanting longer and heavier floggings. Never did I have nightmares about floggings, but I've had occasional dreams about them, all positive. On a few occasions, I've heard the sound of the lash hitting my back only to be jolted awake and then realizing how much I am missing the burning on my back and chest. Though I have gone on to take far heavier and longer floggings than this one, I don't think I've ever been as aware of how much my back and chest were hurting than I was on this day, and how much I loved it. This was a turning point for me (a "coming home" if you will) for I was now coming home to that place of pain where I always knew I belonged since I was a little boy. In my case, the punishment truly is my reward! Photos of some of my flogging sessions are in the photo album of my profile at: http://f1.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/jeans_noshirt_and_whipped/my_photos Sincerely, jeans_noshirt_and_whipped