Pain

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Whipped and warm and happy.
3.7k words
4.48
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arbenitre
arbenitre
131 Followers

Pain is when your life has been flowing out between your fingers. When you see reflections in other's eyes of a landscape bleak and rainy and hope has passed you like a bus in the middle of nowhere.

Pain is when time has become so unimportant that minutes, hours, days, seconds, sit in laundry piles on the floor, uncounted. Unclaimed. Forsaken.

She shivers. Heat rising off her chest, her heart inflamed, yet goosebumps roiling under her skin. Tracking her arms and puckering her back. Her nipples are stiff and angry as they jut out in front of her and her breasts are swollen to their utmost. They strain against the bounds of decency. Shoved forward by the door holding her back straight and solid.

She hangs there. Her fingers toying - or rather, trying to - with the bindings around her wrists. They hold her firmly in place however she squirms. And she writhes with a need she thought might never be hers.

The whip marks a stinging trail across the outside of her right globe. She gasps. The flesh there so tender she feels her back arch without conscious movement on her part. Jolts of electricity shoot through her raw nerves and pulse in receding waves of agonizing ecstasy. Not a full delivery. He holds the braiding at about the halfway point and so delivers a short, light stroke. That sears across her brain not one whit less.

A slash across the other side spews a whimper from her. Her throat raw from the force behind the sighs and mewlings that push their way out her mouth. She spasms up and down her back. The overloading sensation driving her muscles into broken motions.

A dozen more strokes, each with exquisite trills of sharp red tendrils. She thinks of a mirror with crisscrossing weals patterning her naked bosom. Fluid escapes in a rush down her thighs. She wonders if she came, it's so much and her insides so shaky. Surely, she isn't this wet without an orgasm? She wonders how she could have held back from it if she had noticed it building.

He's kissing her neck now. Her shoulders and chest. The heat blaring in a furnace of need and she wriggles to give him more, to suggest her boobs as places for his mouth and tongue. He's careful with placement of each kiss, though. Positions it perfectly to miss the soft tissue and press to the little torched area in the middle.

She moans and writhes. The anguish nearly unbearable. "Please fuck me." She manages to gasp. "Please fuck me. Please fuck me. Please fuck me."

She wants to chant it. His mouth covers a nipple, however, and she almost screams. The intensity of it drives everything away but sensation. Agony. Delirious, desperate, vicious need.

His hands run up and down her sides. They move confidently over her back, her hips, her thighs. It makes everything more real. The ethereal sense of disconnection with her tormented body dispelled with the definite probing of his fingers. The sure way he handles her. She's forced to feel everything. To come back into her tortured corpse and burn with need.

The shaking begins anew. Her knees first, then her back and organs. Bones and muscles refuse to work for her. Refute direct orders to stop, defy her paltry attempts to gain control and they wrack with shivering despair instead.

His whip strikes again. And again. Her back arches and crashes until the muscles separate into individual fibers. Each pulling a different direction and all of them jittery. She becomes nothing. No. Something more. His.

Her breath is nothing but pants. Her tongue lolling in her mouth. Gasps of disbelief and shock and unadulterated lust. He has reached into her core and yanked her desperately beating heart from her flailing chest.

The whip finished with its work, he lets it rest on the table at the bedside. His hands settle firmly on her hips and move her back to him. Her face presses gratefully to the cool wood, but her breasts protest anything touching them. They are swollen to bursting and ache with the hard surface against the precious skin. The flaming sends her limbs aquiver and moans flow from the very center of her being.

His thumb circles her anus. Pressuring steadily. The movements causing her to squirm anew. Both plumping her ass out towards him and pulling her hips away. Finding she can't manage both, her body takes over and opens for him.

The sudden filling makes her groan with pleasure and she feels him sink in to the base. His palm resting on the underside of her ass. He shoves and jerks and nearly lifts her off her feet as she oohs and ahs and sighs.

"You remember how I want you to cum on my cock." His voice in her ear makes her shudder and give a little scream. An involuntary jerk.

"Y - y" She swallows and tries again. This time, no sound comes out. She remembers only too well. She nearly came as he told her what he wanted.

Her hair is yanked back. Her neck stretched. His fist holds a full bunch of her ponytail. "I want to talk." His grip keeps her. Her back arches searching for slight relief. Her breasts, raw against the wood, sting where they rub.

She is speechless.

"Don't you want to talk?" He is pressing into her ear. "Darling?" He adds.

She wants to nod, but cannot.

"Women always want to talk."

He invokes every psychological fear. Does he really feel so bigoted? She's never seen a misogynist side of him, but she realizes she may have missed it or ignored the signs in all the discovery of him. Of them.

"I want to hear you." She arches. Fluid is pouring down her thighs. Her knees want to fold. To circle him and surrender. Give up, give in, give the very depth and soul of her. At the same time, anxiety runs unchecked through her stomach. Clenches her teeth. The red flag he waved at her billowing.

"You know I don't want your silence. I want your voice. I love that you're smart and capable and still..." His thumb shoves deeper into her ass and he physically lifts her body, pressing her face, her breasts harder into the door. It's met, now, with a finger sent bulleting to its full length inside her sopping mess of a vagina.

"Feel like this." She knows she has splashed all over his wrist. Hears the squelching, sucking noises she makes when he pistons in and out. "Not just wet, but so incredibly tight and wanting."

Her toes have left the carpet.

"Tell me what you are expecting." Still, she can hardly moan. Her mouth is working furiously. She knows he won't stop until she is able to tell him what he wants to hear. Anxiety is turning to anguish and edges with fear. The concern about chauvinism dissolved into mist.

Finger and thumb push higher. "I want to know your fantasy. I want to hear what you were imagining."

"N - nothing." Her voice is strained, weak and delicate. "I never know what to expect from you." Tremors dance over and through her. "I want anything. Everything."

"I told you what we'd be doing. I went through what I wanted from you tonight. You knew coming into this. Now I want to hear your side." The pressure lets up enough that her tiptoes find the rug. Her nipples scrape on the woodgrains.

"I got everything out, just like you told me." Her words are a whine to her ears. "You don't always use everything though..." Her voice trails into dust motes.

"I told you that you would be hanging from the door, didn't I?" His tone is calm, the quiet of the night hardly stirred.

"Yes." She barely stirs the hush.

"I told you I would whip you."

It's not a question. She answers anyway. A gulp first. "Yes." A gasp.

"You want it."

"Hhhhh."

The fist wrapped in her hair snaps back so fast her teeth click. "We can't talk if you won't say anything." His voice so menacing she cries out.

His lips on her ear, nibble softly as he coos. "I'm trying to help you baby." He's almost pleading with her to do the right thing. "If you won't even answer my questions..."

Her head sags until the wood holds her by the forehead when he releases her. "Well." It sounds final. Her heart drops.

"No. Please. I'll talk." Rough noise from a raw throat. Torn from the effort.

A plunging feeling sets her feet flat on the floor. A loud plop sends her anus snapping shut. She is set loose from his hand.

"You want it."

Her pulse jolts twice, three, eight times. It's jangling. Ten beats skip by. Her mouth flops. She's almost kissing the door. No words come.

"Crack!"

She jumps so hard and far her nipples are abraded by woodgrain. The sting at the top of her ass sets off paroxysms. The bite deep and slashing. She cries out.

"You want it."

Her ears pound from the inside. A loud thump, then another. Six thuds coming on top of each other. At ten, she manages to push a word up.

"Yee - ee- sssssss" More of a scream that spits out in time with the "Crack!" The slice on her right side arches her back.

"You want it."

"I'm trying. Yes."

"You know I enjoy it most when it hurts."

"Yes." She finds her voice quickly this time.

"Good. See? That's not so hard, is it?"

A hesitation. Ten beats of a frightened heart. Two seconds. Wild thoughts of how hard it is for her to say simple pleases.

"Crack!"

Flares from her left side pop lights in her head. A moan is hanging in the air. Somewhere.

"Is that so hard baby?" His voice sounds so concerned. His fingers stroke her back. She sighs and languishes in the feel. His touch so soothing.

"Crack!" She screams.

"NO. It's not hard. Please." She hates that her body trembles uncontrollably, but she can no more stop it right now than to break out of the cuffs he has designed just to hold her.

"Good." A gush of fluid spills out at the word. "Let's start again." His fingers slip between her shoulder blades and knead the aching spots. He finds them all and she lolls her neck. Her forehead pressing into the wood, keeping pressure off her torn nipples.

"You want your whipping."

"Yes."

"Not enough to say please?"

"No. I mean yes. Please. Yes. Oh god. Please."

"Is that so hard, baby?" His voice drips deep into her shivering heart. So sweet and caring, she is lost. She sighs.

"Crack!"

The scream comes with tears. The flaming slash across her thighs just at the bottom of her ass an open wound.

"Is that so hard?"

"Yes. I mean no. You know how hard it is for me. I'm sorry. I'll do better. Please. Oh please." She babbles. Her skin ripped in a line crossing both legs.

He pauses. Expectant. Her eyes flare in fear. "No. Please. It's not too hard. I love my whipping. I need it. Please. I need it."

"Please what?" His voice is pleasant. As though discussing an upcoming walk on the beach or event.

"Please whip me. I need it. Please. Please." She is shivering. Her teeth chatter. Though the room is warm, she can't catch her breath.

"Good girl."

The words of praise send sunrays flowing over her body. Tingling and delight swirl together inside her chest.

"I love that you want it. I ache to give you everything. To take my pleasures from your body. To have all that I want from you."

"Yes. Please. I want it. I want to give you everything. I want to please you. I need it. Please fuck me. Please take me." Splattering on her thighs and drizzles reaching her knees niggle into her mind. She may have cum. She doesn't know. She hopes not since she's forbidden, but how could she have stopped it anyway?

"Five times."

She doesn't know what he means. She knows she must answer, but has not idea what he is saying to her. Panic reels across her consciousness.

"Please. I don't." She falters. "I don't know. I can't. I don't know what to say. What you want. I'll do anything. Please."

"Good girl." His fingers stroke her cheeks. "Such a good sub."

She smiles. Flush with the praise. He loves when the blush creeps over her chest, up her neck and colors her cheeks.

"You're getting very good at please."

Her breath catches. Something is coming. He's too sweet. Too kind. She still doesn't know what he means. What he wants.

"Thank you comes later." He kisses her ear. "Another time." Kisses her jawline. "Another lesson." Kisses her cheek.

"I had to ask if you wanted your whipping five times. I knew you wanted it, but wouldn't ask." His fingers slide over her lips.

"Are you too proud?"

Her legs give way. The strain on her arms force groans from her closed mouth.

"Perhaps you're too good. Too pretty. Too wanted to have to beg for anything." There is menace in his tone now and her stomach clenches. "Maybe you don't really want it. Or you don't need it as badly as I want you to."

"No. No. No. No. I want it. I want it so bad. I. No. No." She's chanting as he talks.

"Five times." Her squirming stopped with the hush lying thick in his voice. "Five lashes." Her heart leaps into a flutter.

"No. No. Please. Oh god." Moaning and begging have never been a part of her. He's partly right. She's never had someone make her want it so badly. She's always felt like she deserved it, or she deserved the attention she got while they did this to her, but she never needed it so badly that she would seek it from them. Other than to make herself available and let them take it from there.

"You want it."

"I want to please you. I'll do anything. Yes. I want to please you."

"You want it."

Now she feels real fear. She's been avoiding this hole in herself. She knows she likes this. Wants it. Has trouble facing it or letting others take their hand in giving it. It's her last piece of control. Her last bit she can't give up. She pulls at the bindings. Arches and tugs.

"Crack!"

The burning leaves her alone. In some world somewhere with nothing anywhere near her. Airless, noiseless, selfless. Just flame arcing from the back of one calf to the other.

"Yes. Please. I want it."

A spindle in that other world stabbed through her. Held her on its point and let her turn. She pictures this change. Unable to alter it or to affect it. She turned on that pivot and became this alternate person. Or maybe herself. Her true being. She does want it. Badly enough to ask. However it hurts. She doesn't have to make him the vehicle of her emotion. He will do it regardless. She, however, does want it.

"Mmmmm."

He knows. He can feel what just happened. He senses. He knew her as sub - as this kind of sub - from the first contact. She felt it about him from the moment his very first words touched her. She knew him then and felt bare. Felt His awareness of her. Nothing has changed in the time since. He knows her. Feels her.

Maybe he only sees the sag in the bindings. Perhaps she merely hangs now, lower more relaxed, ready. There's a chance he doesn't realize the monumental shift her universe just took. The way her whole world tilted up on its side and turned her over.

As soon as hope flowed down over her, calming and soothing, the stark realization that it simply wasn't true struck back into her. Nerve and sinew stood aside and refused to hide from her the blunt force. He knows.

His hand grabs her hair. "You'll get your first five. You'll ask for each and every one." There is a husk in his throat she hears only when he is nearly out of control. "Then there's the matter of the two more I just had to ask you. If you're good, I may amend that. If I have to wait or you struggle too much, I will increase it. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Please whip me."

"Very good." Her head spun. "Does it hurt where I've struck you already?"

She's suddenly aware of the stripes across her breasts, her thighs, her knees. All of them throbbing and wound tight.

He yanks her hair hard. "I'm sorry. Yes. They hurt." There's a whimper woven through her words. "They hurt."

"The pain is more distinct when you know it's coming. These will be up on your back. Your shoulder blades where the least muscle is. Where it will sting deep." He relaxes his hold on her hair. "I do hope you appreciate my work." He kisses her cheek. So sweetly, she groans in pleasure.

A tension builds. She hears him move behind her. His lips close on her ear. "This will help heighten your senses."

She knows what is coming too late. Her struggles are wild and uncoordinated and he easily slips the hood over her thrashing head and ties it in place. The darkness overwhelms her and a sob flies out. She feels his cock leap hard against her hip.

Now she hears his every cat like step. Attuned to the sound of the whip leaving the floor, uncoiling, pulling back, singing.

"Crack!" For a second, she thinks he missed or was just testing. Then the wracking fire sets her voice free.

"Oh please. Oh. It hurts. Please. Oh please. Please. Oh. Please, please, please." She fights with the cuffs in vain.

He waits. She feels him. Remembers.

"No. Please. I'll be good. Please. I want whipped. Please. I'll be good. I promise. Please."

She calms as the slashing subsides. It was like a razor slicing across her scapula. The bone open and nerves cut. She couldn't believe it could hurt like that.

The coiling begins again. Then the loosening, the pulling back, the whining. She tenses. Grits her eyes and determines herself to be stronger than he thinks possible.

"Crack!"

She cries out. "Hunnnnhhhhh." The shock hits in waves this time. By the time the third one buckles her knees, tears have spilt onto her cheeks.

"Oh god." She moans. Please. Oh please." She whispers, then: "Please whip me. Please." She chants. "Please. Please. Please." Until she is only mouthing the words. "Please. Oh. Please."

The leather being drawn into a circle makes a clear and penetrating noise. Then comes the letting it out, the rearing back. Finally, the whistling. She bears down.

"Crack!"

All of the marks flare this time. Her breasts, her legs, her back. They link together within her and stab upwards. She yells. "PLEASE!" Her throat hoarse with the effort. "Please." She whimpers. She pulls herself up. "Please whip me. Please."

The inside of the mask is wet, but she is more determined than ever. Her mouth is moving in a silent prayer: "Please, please, please, please, please. Please, please, please, please, please, please."

Even above the shuffling words "please, please, please, please," she hears the leather creak as it is rolled into a circle, thud as it is let go, swoosh as it swings back and shwoooo. Her eyelids tighten and force drops out the corners, her back arches.

"Crack!"

"Oh gawwwwwhh. No. Please. Please. No." Her lips move in a stream. "Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. No. Please."

A heartbeat drops into the loud ticking of seconds. There's a clarity to her senses that opens her. Frees her. Her knees have given out and she claws her way back up.

"Please whip me." Every nerve in her body is screaming. Her muscles tremble and the shaking rattles the door on which she hangs. Blood pounds through her even as she feels it seeping out her pores. Her mind, though, is settled and clean. She knows what is coming. Knows she will hurt. Loves Him for it. That He will do this for her.

The rustle of leather circling, plop, shusssshhhh, she tenses, relaxes, schooooo.

"Crack!"

"Does it hurt baby?"

The words shimmer in mid air. They mean something, but she can't tell what. Not what they seem anyway. She thinks of all the things that hurt in life. Lovers leaving, people spewing hate filled lies, anger and cold. She thinks of bleeding and sharp and all the tears that soak desperate into barren dust.

"We'll talk about the rest in the morning." A frisson runs through her at this. Talking means so many different things to him. Another shiver and blushes and goosebumps flare.

"Does it hurt, baby?" He is eager.

She thinks of all the yelling. Loud words burning her cheeks. Cracking her lips.

She pictures him kissing them whole again. His praise "Good girl. That's my bird." She feels his hands and fingers and arms. His tongue and the weight of his love.

"No."

His arms are where she wants to be. When she isn't curled up with his fingers idly tracing her outline, or slipping lightly along her flesh, settling on her hip, she has an ache. Not a hole where she misses him, not a nagging harping memory.

arbenitre
arbenitre
131 Followers
12