Whipping Post, Part Two
He didn’t have a whip, so he used his belt.
I’ve mentioned time and again on here that I’m not a masochist, and people usually find that kind of funny. But I am genuinely not. I don’t enjoy pain. It takes a lot of work (and only recently has this actually come to fruition, but more on that another day) to get the right endorphin rush or zen head going from getting beaten. It’s happened, but it flat-out doesn’t.
Pup’s a sadist. And he, like Sir, seem to enjoy pain play with me specifically because I am not a masochist. I consent to being hurt because I like giving someone the right to do that, I enjoy what that implies. Not because I like getting hurt. Neither of them are the kind of sadists who want someone egging them on to hurt them more. They want someone who, although they are consenting and enjoying the encounter, are not specifically liking what is going on because of the pain. And, yeah, I hate pain.
He mostly concentrated on my back and my butt, as well as the backs of my thighs. He stopped when I needed him to, but I found that as soon as the threshold widened to a point that I would start to adapt to the pain, he’d switch to someplace else. There is a point where I can kind of sink into pain and it becomes so constant that it almost feels comfortable. He never let me reach that point.
As awful as it felt, I liked that. I liked that he beat me on my upper arms, right in the sensitive place between the triceps and the biceps, forcing me to twist my bound wrists and hold my arms out to give him a good point to hit. I liked that he was paying enough attention to figure out when I was sinking into the pain, and then switch it up so quickly I barely had time to react.
But I didn’t realize how turned on I was getting until he pushed himself up against me again and grabbed my throat. His other hand moved between my legs and he started laughing. “Want it already?”
I looked up at myself in the mirror and realized I was grinding against him. I’d been ready to tell him off, but instead I just blushed and whined, “will you please? I want to get fucked.”
He stepped away from me and managed to hit me between the legs with the belt. I cried out and rested my forehead against the post, feeling my eyes well up with tears.
“Please?” I choked out.
