"Sometimes, I think you don't know what to do with me," I replied.
"Maybe just not when I'm not with you."
Which is funny, considering how our relationship began, but skills fade without practice.
We've had a lot of exhausted nights since we got back from vacation, and I'd asked him if we couldn't just go to bed early. As good as all of our sex is, exhausted sex does not hold a candle to its prettier and more all-around fabulous cousin, fully awake, aware, and frisky sex. I love going to bed early - I'd do it every day if I could. It doesn't always work out that way. Thankfully, this time it did.
The lights stayed on, which promotes staying awake as well as emphasizes my submission. I can't hide from him when the lights are on. He held me in the curve of his arm and we kissed, hesitantly at first. We'd spent quite some time talking already and the transition period was a little odd. He pulled his mouth away from mine after a while, his hands gliding over the fabric of my shirt not providing the same thrill for either of us that the delicious slide of skin on skin could.
"Take your clothes off so I can touch you better," he said firmly. I sat up and slowly pulled off my shirt, and his hands roamed over my skin as I lay back down next to him, raising goosebumps all over me. "Good fuck toy," he praised me, tracing his fingertips lightly along my back, my arms, then trailing them down to gently rub against my ass. "How does this ass feel about being flogged?"
"Okay.." I ventured.
"Just okay? Doesn't your ass want to be flogged? Not hurt - not yet. Just gently flogged."
"Yes," I whispered. I don't even remember the last time I was flogged, but I probably wrote about it.
He got the flogger out and started using it, really really gently, so gently in fact that it just felt like soft silken hairs sweeping across my backside. I sighed. It felt nice. "Yeah, see, your ass likes that. Does it hurt?" he asked. His other hand rested on my arm, providing me with his love and warmth.
"Not at all," I said, wriggling a little with anticipation of what he'd do with that information.
He slowly increased the strength he put into it, and I was lifting my ass into the strikes of the flogger, moaning a little with the good pain, soft silky impacts that felt amazing, when he stopped. His hand replaced the flogger, and he gave me firm taps just hard enough to raise a little gasp from me at each one, all over my backside.
"Does this hurt?" he asked, seeing my response.
"Just a little," I said, as he continued, a little faster now, and I felt the heat building, building, a rosy blush beginning to form that he could see too.
"Ah, look, this ass is getting a little red now," he informed me, switching back to the flogger, bringing it across my ass and thighs. I squirmed in earnest now, he was hitting hard enough and my skin was sensitive enough to really feel it all. Little breaths whooshed out of me just behind each whoosh of the flogger. Whoosh, smack, breathe, squirm, an irresistible rhythm to which I couldn't help but dance. A squeal crept in now and then.
He started a new rhythm, with his hand again, and I purred as he rained blows down on me, alternating cheeks. "Does your ass hurt now?" he asked.
"Yes, a little," I confirmed, wriggling as he spanked me.
"Just a little?" he asked, and then he hit me with the wooden spoon. I screamed; I hadn't been expecting that. He hit me with it again and again and my feet came halfway up, but I stopped them from coming all the way up. He hit me right on the sit spots, and all over my ass. I buried my face in the mattress to muffle my screams. "Oh, I don't think your ass likes this spoon at all," he said.
"It doesn't!" I cried.
"Your ass hasn't missed the spoon too?" he said, tapping several sharp blows onto the canvas of my backside.
"No, no!" I assured him, shaking my ass back and forth to try to relieve the sharp burning.
"Hm." He put the spoon down and stroked my ass with his hand gingerly, seeming to pay special attention to the marks left by the spoon, making me whimper. "So, you filled yourself up today, huh?"
I was disoriented, then realizing what he meant. "Yes sir."
"You don't think you should have asked for permission first?" His hand resumed slapping my ass now, medium-strength strikes that allowed him to hit pretty fast and built up even more warmth.
"Noo," I moaned softly. I hadn't thought he'd care.
"No? You think it's okay to just take something that's mine and shove something into it? Really?"
"No sir," I whispered as I squirmed under the spanking he was delivering.
"I suppose I don't require you to ask permission to eat. Is that what you thought you were doing? Feeding your ass?" A particularly hard smack of his hand punctuated the question.
"No sir," I squealed.
"Just trying to make yourself feel good, all filled up, huh?"
His hand stroked my burning backside gently as he responded. "Well, I think you should ask for permission next time, okay?"
His words set off a shudder deep within me and I groaned, long and low. "Yes sir," I managed to agree as I trembled.
"Good fuck toy," he said as he stroked my hair, his words escalating my trembling to an uncontrollable level.
The spoon slapped into my ass again, a sharp smack echoing in my ears. "Oh, God," I squealed. It hurt so freaking much. "Isn't it interesting," he started, smacking the spoon into my ass several more times as I squealed with the pain, "how something so simple as a wooden spoon can hurt so much," he placed the rounded edge of the lovely piece of craftsmanship against the back of my neck, and slowly dragged it down my spine, making me inhale raggedly multiple times in anticipation. He hit me with it when he reached my ass, my ragged breathing turning into a ragged cry. He continued his thought as he put the spoon down "when something designed to deliver pain, like this flogger," he brushed it across my back, "doesn't hurt that much at all?" He landed a few delicious blows of it across my ass, making me sigh deeply.
"I just think that's interesting," he finished. He laid the flogger down and started with the spoon again. "Oh My God," I cried out.
"My ass!" he said, as he hit my ass with that spoon on every available surface, "Mine!" echoing each sharp crack of wood against flesh. "Mine! Mine! Mine!"
"Oh fuck," I whispered between my squeals. It always melts me beyond reason when he starts claiming me like that.
When he'd covered my ass in strikes to his satisfaction, he started smacking me with his hand again. I whined, shaking my ass back and forth trying to get away from him.
"Turn over," he finally decided.
It hurt. My ass burned. I paused for breath before I moved and he slapped me again. "Turn over!" he repeated.
"It hurts," I whined, rolling onto my side, my back toward him.
"Mmhmm, I know," he said smoothly, his hand snaking around to my front to toy gently with my nipples. I jumped and moved back against him, my burning backside rubbing against his hard cock. I jumped again at the contact. "Writhe in pain while I play with you," he whispered into my ear, gently rolling and tugging on my nipple. "Go on, baby, writhe."
I whimpered and did indeed writhe, between the joyous torment of his fingers on my nipples and the pressing of his cock against my sore ass. "I think I have a ruler here for your nipples," he said after a while, tugging gently on one as he spoke. I shuddered and a little yelp of fright escaped me. "Aww, are you afraid of the ruler?" he asked, bringing it out - a wide, solid plastic one.
"I am," I whispered. Afraid, yes, but so very very turned on.
He pulled me back a little more onto my back, the firm pressure of his hand allowing no resistance on my part, and he started tapping the ruler lightly all over my breast, much as he has done with the crop. I sighed with the pleasure of it, even as I tensed my body for more to come. "There, that's nothing to be afraid of, is it?"
And then he really started on my nipples - slapping slapping slapping, harder and harder, resting at a point of intensity just below screaming, keeping that level up, not changing, until even that became unbearable and I screamed. "Oh, I could do this all night," he assured me, keeping it up as I tossed my head and screamed little panting screams, my right hand clutching at his back as my left one made balls of the sheet.
His lips claimed mine and we kissed, hotly, as he kept landing blows expertly on my nipples. I squealed into his mouth over and over.
Minutes, hours, days later, he put the ruler down and then his hand smacked into my breast, the palm centered on my nipple. I groaned deeply. "Mine!" he whispered, claiming my lips again as he squeezed my breast, then spanked it several more times. Oh, so much arousal he was generating in me. Kissing, spanking, torture, and talk of ownership and sex, interspersed with gentle goosebump-raising caresses. Oh, how I wanted him.
"I know what you need," he finally said, pulling his mouth away...
The rest of the story is lots and lots of sex, and is here.