He takes the belt from me, and I hear the snap as he tries it out. The sound makes me shiver. He leaves me on my knees a moment, and then orders me up and over the table. Which is what I was expecting, but getting to my feet seems a lot harder than it should. I’m out of practice, and God, do I need this. I lift my head as I stand, careful not to look him in the eye, and turn around.
He can see I’m hard, can see all of me and hasn’t said a word about what he thinks of any of it. The only comment he makes is to spread my feet farther apart. Suddenly it’s very important for me to know if he likes what he sees, but he hasn’t given me permission to speak. He hasn’t told me not to, either, but it’s even more important to me that I not disappoint him. So I just bend over like he’s ordered, rising up on my toes a bit to make sure I present a good target.
He lets me wait a while, of course, lets the feeling of being displayed and vulnerable sink in fully. I just put my head to one side and concentrate on watching one hand where it grasps the edge of the table. I know what’s coming, and I know what that belt feels like, but it still catches me off guard when he cracks it down at what feels like full strength. Thank God he didn’t start with the buckle. I’d rather not bleed this early into things. It’s the noise that hits me first, before the pain, and I know better than to tense, but I can’t help it. I gasp and come up on my toes, feeling the heat of it spread all over my ass.
I’m about to open my mouth and thank him when he starts telling me to count and the number, and thank God, he’s giving me rules. I can do this. I take a breath to calm myself down enough to speak. “Yes, sir, understood.” He doesn’t answer, so I know what’s coming and try to just relax. There’s nothing I can do except take it, and if he’s doing this for, the least I can do is take it well.
He aims lower this time, and the stripe of sharp warmth spreads across my thighs, feeling like its cut me to the bone. “One, sir,” I gasp, and then have a thought. “Or two?” I ask, and then curse myself. “Sorry, sir.” But I’ve gone and fucked it up now.
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Date: 2010-09-22 01:46 am (UTC)He can see I’m hard, can see all of me and hasn’t said a word about what he thinks of any of it. The only comment he makes is to spread my feet farther apart. Suddenly it’s very important for me to know if he likes what he sees, but he hasn’t given me permission to speak. He hasn’t told me not to, either, but it’s even more important to me that I not disappoint him. So I just bend over like he’s ordered, rising up on my toes a bit to make sure I present a good target.
He lets me wait a while, of course, lets the feeling of being displayed and vulnerable sink in fully. I just put my head to one side and concentrate on watching one hand where it grasps the edge of the table. I know what’s coming, and I know what that belt feels like, but it still catches me off guard when he cracks it down at what feels like full strength. Thank God he didn’t start with the buckle. I’d rather not bleed this early into things. It’s the noise that hits me first, before the pain, and I know better than to tense, but I can’t help it. I gasp and come up on my toes, feeling the heat of it spread all over my ass.
I’m about to open my mouth and thank him when he starts telling me to count and the number, and thank God, he’s giving me rules. I can do this. I take a breath to calm myself down enough to speak. “Yes, sir, understood.” He doesn’t answer, so I know what’s coming and try to just relax. There’s nothing I can do except take it, and if he’s doing this for, the least I can do is take it well.
He aims lower this time, and the stripe of sharp warmth spreads across my thighs, feeling like its cut me to the bone. “One, sir,” I gasp, and then have a thought. “Or two?” I ask, and then curse myself. “Sorry, sir.” But I’ve gone and fucked it up now.