Flogging, not your everyday kink

Seattle continues to surprise me. If one just takes the time to open their eyes and ears, there is an amazing amount that she will present to you. Today was another lesson of her allure. I was casually walking down Seneca towards a place for lunch. Two people a man and a woman in business casual attire are having a conversation on the sidewalk. The gentleman's ecstatic gesticulations tease my visual thirst. He continues making a striking motion from above his head behind his body. The woman intently gazes on, studying the subtler movements. As I approach nearer, my ears ring with anticipation, longing to make sense of this affair. Within ear shot I hear the man instruct, "It is this motion here with the elbow that gives you the most reward with self-flogging." The world is an instantaneous blur, an easel of colors which possess neither shape nor order. My brain questions my ears, "Self-flogging?" And then the woman confirms it, "I just haven't been getting the result I am looking for. My flogging technique isn't quite there." The colors quickly collide into focus, a jolting halt reminiscent of youthful carnival rides. As my legs drag my reluctant eyes and straining ears around the corner, my brain is left mute. All that remains is a stupid grin upon my face, and a stomach which yearns to be fed.