“Roll onto your side…either side,” he said.
I chose my right side.
I felt him pull my ass cheeks apart. He was looking at my anus, so I thought he was going to insert his finger(s) in my ass. Before I could finish that thought…
Slap! He’d taken his first whack at my ass with his bare hand.
The first one is always pure pain. The first one makes you question why you like this so much.
Slap! He strikes my ass again…and again…and again. I’m squirming. Just when the pain seems unbearable…just before I have the thought that I want this to stop, I start floating into subspace.
His strikes still hurt, but my skin is now tingling and a deep calmness washes over me. His hands find that rhythm: pain – striking my skin with his strong, open hand – and pleasure – stroking my skin with his strong, open hand.
While it is a rhythm, it is not a pattern a sub can anticipate. His strokes soothing my stinging skin give me pleasure, but I imagine it is his pause – his white space – to decide where to strike next. My skin is his canvas and my pleasure in receiving this pain with an open heart is his muse.
At some point (time is irrelevant now), I hear him unzip his pants. I smile anticipating that his cock will soon be in my mouth. I hear something else…as if something is being pulled quickly against his clothing with a “swoosh” sound. What could that be? I think “belt” just as the leather cracks against my skin.
I hear his new, fine Italian leather belt in the air just before I feel each crack. “More” is the only thought I have now.
He whips me a few times before he puts his cock in front of my face. I open wide and suck eagerly. He whips me as I suck.
I want to worship his cock with my full attention, and I want to savor each stroke of the belt.
I want to be his canvas…his muse. I want to know how far he can take me. I want to know how far I can go.