“Please use the crop on my ass, Sir.”
“Such a good boy when you beg for me.”
I know there’s no chance he’s going to hold back. He stopped doing that weeks ago.
But, fuck…Iwantit to hurt.
I love the way he can make me feel with a little bit of pain. Not only the bite of it against my skin, but the way it unravels something tight inside me, relieving tension I never even realized I carried with me. There’s a release in it, a kind of quiet I can never seem to find on my own.
There’s something impossibly freeing about giving myself to him, surrendering my body, about choosing to let go and trust his hands more than my own doubts. Like my body isn’t mine anymore. Not in a frightening way, but in a way that lets me breathe.
Under his control, I’m not less.
I’m exactly where I want to be.
Isaac is the reason for my bi-awakening. If there’s such a thing as a pain kink awakening, he’s responsible for that too.
He reaches under me between my legs to grab my cock that’s trapped under my stomach, pulling it back until it’s trapped beneath my balls instead. A different kind of pain wrenches a groan from my throat until my dick starts to soften against my will, just until the ache fades.
“Leave your legs spread just like this, sweetheart. I want to see your cock leak while I turn your ass red.”
“Yes, Sir.”
My low moan joins the sound of the bed creaking as he shifts his weight to climb off the mattress.
I still can’t see anything with the blindfold over my eyes, and Sir has this way of somehow moving silently. I’m left lying alone on the bed, trembling in anticipation, wondering how long he’s going to draw this out. When the first crack of the crop comes against my right ass cheek, a shocked cry rips up my throat, andmy hands scramble to grab the ropes, desperate for something to hold onto.
“That’s it, Jackson,” Sir hums as the crop trails lightly down the length of my spine, causing me to shiver. “Let me hear your screams. I want to see your tears too.”
A hand grips my hair. Sir turns my head so it’s my left cheek on the pillow, and I assume I’m facing him now.
I’m not cryingyet, but I know from experience Sir is more than capable of pushing me to that point.
The crop comes down on my left cheek, even harder than before, my scream even louder. This time, he doesn’t stop to give me a break. He strikes my ass again and again and again until I’m a writhing, pathetic mess. My eyes sting behind the blindfold, and I wouldn’t even know how to describe the incoherent noises that are coming out of my mouth.
Finally, Sir lets up, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I pant heavily while the burn in my ass spreads, hotter now that the initial sting is fading, as hot as the tears spilling down my face.
His hand comes down on my ass next, not exactly a slap but not gentle either. He kneads the abused flesh, parting my cheeks until I swear I can feel the heat of his gaze on my hole hotter than anything else.
“You have such a pretty ass,” Sir says, sounding a little breathless himself. “So fucking perfect. But it’s even more pretty and perfect when it turns red from what I do to you. Wearing the color like my mark.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I barely manage to whisper, my voice as wrecked as the rest of me.
I feel the leather of the crop brush over the head of my cock, and I squirm, imagining it becoming sticky with precum.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.
When the crop glides over my lips next, I jerk, not having expected it. At least, I think I do. It feels a bit like my movements are in slow motion, like I’m being held under water but still able to breathe.
Knowing what he wants without having to be told, I stick out my tongue, tasting the saltiness of precum and the earthiness of leather. At the same time, I feel Sir’s tongue sweep up my cheek, collecting my tears.
“And fucking delicious.”
It’s when the warmth of his breath ghosts over my jaw and the corner of my lips that I realize my mind is floating, light and untethered, like it’s caught in a slow, sweet tide. The sparks of color inside my eyelids shimmer and blur, losing their edges. It’s like my mind is drifting while I feel everything, every touch just a little softer, a little muted.
His mouth is at my ear, and his teeth nip at the shell of it before he asks in a low voice, “Do you want more of the crop or are you ready for my cock, sweetheart?”
“Cock. Please. Please, Sir. I want your cock.”
