You’re toying around on your phone when he comes in from his shower. Laying on your stomach facing away from him, your naked body exposed. He greets you, and you ‘hmm’ in response. Silence. Then the sound of a drawer being opened. No rustling of clothes.
The sound registers in your ears before the sting is felt by your naked ass.
You wince, but don’t react, fighting not to smirk.
Another; sharper, more forceful. You sigh, but don’t look up. Your phone firmly in your grasp you pretend to be unaffected. You keep scrolling, not sparing a glance towards Him.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Again, and again, and again the small crop stings your skin.
You bite your lip and stifle a small moan; the first real indication that He is affecting you.
He chuckles, low and deep. ‘Ohh, there she is. I have something for you. Something that will get a reaction. Don’t move.’
You stay where you are, phone still in hand- ever the brat you try and refuse to give Him exactly what He wants unless He commands it.
You cry out as your toes curl involuntarily. You fight the urge to pull any part of yourself away.
TWACK! TWACK! TWACK!
Another cry, as each blow lands and your skin absorbs the razor sharp lines the cane leaves. You hate the way the thin bamboo rods sting, but love the marks they leave behind. In seconds your phone is on the floor, the bedsheet grasped tightly in your fists. He’s gotten what He wants, and you are getting what you need. Surrender.
He’s changed implements, and you arch yourself towards Him.
‘Stay still‘ a growl. A command. You obey.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
You moan and sigh and cry out and lose yourself in the feel of it.
The pain and the pleasure the flogger brings; it is your favorite tool after all.
He knows this. He relishes in what it does to you. Every strand leaving its own thin line, your back and shoulders and thighs bearing it’s bite. But your reward is still a punishment…
TWACK. CRACK. SNAP.
Repeated, and shuffled, and interchanged, and combined He rains them down on you. Your skin reddens and your cries increase as tears sting your eyes and threaten to fall. You fight them back- He will stop if you cry, or if you ask.
You will do neither.
You bear it, the sublime torture He inflicts upon you. Every flick of His wrist it’s own release.
You need this.
You need it.
You take it.