I can't move, and the rope is cutting into my skin, especially when I strain against it. The apprehension has my heart racing, more so than the pain. Panting through my nose, I can't hear anything else besides the loud swoosh of my breathing, and since Gav has expertly blindfolded me as well, there's no way of telling what he's up to do. I squeeze my eyes shut when my body trembles in fear. After all, he does like hurting me.
"I hope you're uncomfortable," he says quietly, yet his voice is loud in the silence of the playroom. I can literally hear his smile; the asshole. Still, knowing that he wants me exactly like this, that he enjoys the sight and my discomfort, it's enough to make me smile as well while my heart is stirring with a sad longing. I'm so glad to have happened upon him.
I flinch when I hear a sharp noise cut through the air, but there's no pain associated, making me wonder what he hit.
"That was the slapper. I've also got a riding crop here, and a paddle, and a rubber flogger. And my hand, of course."
My mind is reeling from the simple fact that he has such a variety of spanking tools; I don't even know what a slapper is supposed to be. I do know that he is going to hurt me, though, and given how much he said he was on edge, I'm pretty sure it's going to hurt a lot. My nostrils flare, but I can't seem to breathe in much air.
"Try to find out which one I'm using."
Before his voice has faded, something smacks my rear hard, something that is broad and leathery. The initial shock has me flinching and drowns out the pain, though the sharp burning sensation returns quickly, making me groan. The sound is muffled by the gag covering my lower face and even reaching inside my mouth, pushing down my tongue.
"I'll give you ten with each, then you can figure out which one you like best."
My body tenses at the mere prospect of having to endure, what? Fifty hits? That's the most he's done so far, and I doubt he's going to be satisfied with mild slaps. Somehow, I don't think I would be, either.
I want him to hurt me. I'm sick of these games, the psychological misery they put me in, sick of thinking. His dominance has no ambiguity, the pain only one purpose. When Gav is hurting me, he's being honest about it. It's not accidental, I'm not some unfortunate casualty. This pain is a gift I can embrace.
I moan when he hits me again, sparking a fire across my left butt cheek. He stills at the sound, then hits me again even harder. It doesn't take ten hit for me to start screaming. When he's done with the second device -and my second cheek-, the pain is throbbing through my body, making it difficult to say where exactly I'm hurting. I think he used the paddle and the slapper, whatever that is.
The flogger is used on my back, leaving at least ten stinging streaks across my skin with every hit. I'm cursing him inwardly, though the moment I hear his throaty moan, my discontent fades away. Whatever he is seeing, he is seriously enjoying it, enjoying me. His erection pushes between my legs, asserting pressure on my sensitive root. I groan tiredly, and again when Gav kiss the swollen skin of my lower back.
"You're doing great, sweetheart," he whispers gently. Tears choke me unexpectedly as his words reach my heart, so firmly that I actually sob. They well from my eyes, soaking the blindfold, yet I don't know why I'm crying. My body shakes.
"Hush, it's alright." He rubs his nose against me, then stills for a moment while I'm crying, strapped to the vaulting table. I wonder if he's watching my shoulders, and I can't help but think that I should signal him to stop. Strangely enough, I can't bear the thought, so I fight down the tears, evening out my breathing.
Once I've calmed down, Gav kisses me one last time, then steps away.
"Thank you, Robin," he says right before the riding crop whooshes through the air, and the broad tip cracks the skin between my shoulder blades. I scream, struggling against the binds. He kisses the spot before he hits me again, and does so all ten times. By the end, I'm trembling slightly from exhaustion, filled with the need for Gav to pull me into his arms and make love to me.
I wish I could tell him so, but before that, I would have to signal him to stop, which I can't bring myself to do. It's only ten more hits anyway. Yet when his hand crashes with my rear, my heart surges desperately, causing worse pain than the stroke. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth. The next hit has me whimpering.
I want him to hold me close, look into my eyes, and tell me that he didn't have anything to do with my Mom's death.
I sniff even before the next blow and once it hits, my whole body goes rigid. Gav doesn't slap me again, leaving me waiting. He's probably looking out for the sign to stop. I know I should shrug, but it's so humiliating to admit defeat, to deprive him of his pleasure that he so deserves. After all, he's my Master. I don't want to let him down.
"Robin?" he asks quietly, sounding pained - like he doesn't want this, either.
I shrug.
-
Well, how did you like it?
XOXO
T.