I watched the beautiful young man standing with his arms pulled above his head. My shoulders ached just looking at him. He had the kind of face that Renaissance painters would have swooned over.
I sat on the leather couch, only a few feet away. I watched his partner grasp a handful of his thick dark curls, and pull his head around. She whispered into his ear, and I caught the flash of her pink tongue on his ear lobe. He smiled and I watched the bow of his lips and knew that he had acquiesced.
His partner selected a flogger, cracking it a few times. Perhaps this was part of their game; I knew from experience that the anticipation of the lash was often as sharp as the lash itself. But his face hadn’t wavered, a Mona Lisa smile on his angel’s face. Her latex clad fingers traced down his spine, and he planted his feet. His smile slipped. Then the flogger fell across his ass. I watched his face as it contorted in pain, but then smoothed out and for a second he looked at peace with his eyes fluttering closed.
She ran a hand over the welt, and once again whispered in his ear. He nodded, those dark curls bouncing. He spoke quickly to her, and I wondered if he begged her, but I was too far away to hear.
She stepped back and swung the flogger. The leather cracked across his flesh, and he winced. This time she didn’t stop. I counted the lashes, five, eight, fifteen. I lost track when his wincing turned to gritting his teeth, and his lips twisted into a grimace. His arms strained in their bounds, but he never seemed to make a sound. His head jerked, and that luscious hair fell over his face.
I leaned forward in my seat, wanting to watch his every response if I couldn’t watch his face. His cock, hard and bound at the base with a black cock ring, bounced with every lash. His partner shifted her stance, and returned the flogger to her bag.
She stood behind him, brushing his hair out of his face. His skin was flushed, and she brushed his tears away with her latex covered fingers. She pressed against his back, and I knew that her latex dress would slid against his sweat soaked skin, and irritate his inflamed skin. Her gloved fingers curled around his cock, stroking him slowly.
He was still crying. His lips twisted into a grimace then he bit his lip arching his neck in pleasure. He was magnificent. She continued this torture until his tears stopped. Then she stepped away, only to return with a riding crop. Once again, she used his hair to make him look at her. She showed him the crop, and his eyes grew wide. The doubt was clear on his face, and for a moment, I thought he would tell her no. Tell her it was too much. But sensual curve of his lips shaped the word yes.
She started out tapping his lightly. Of course give the lashes his ass had already received, the light swipes must have been agony. He stared straight ahead, his face blank.
When she drew her arm back and laid into his back, he arched his back his neck straining and his gaze on the celling. The next lash landed across his back, and his lips drew back as he cried out. I heard the hoarse, broken cry from across the room, and watched as his shoulders started to shake as he sobbed. She continued to use the crop, the red welts rising over his back and shoulders. But it was the breaking of the angelic face that had me. His tears ran down his face, and he cried out. This was pure release.
Finally she stopped. Returning the crop to her bag, she stood in front of him. She wiped the tears from his face with what looked like a cloth and lace handkerchief. She stroked his cheek, and he let his head fall forward. His hair once again hid his face.
I watched her free his arms, and he stumbled a little. She caught him. He laid his head on her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around him. They stood like that a moment, his face hidden from my view. For the first time, I looked at her face. She was speaking to him, her face concerned and caring.
He finally stood up, and stepped out of the circle of her arms. He rolled his shoulders, flinching one final time before his face became serene, peaceful.
What makes this sexy story especially interesting, is that the reader doesn’t know if the narrator is a man or a woman.
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I hadn’t even considered that aspect. I’m happy that it adds something to the story
I felt his emotions. I felt like I was there, watching him. I felt like I could’ve been him, experiencing the pain and release. Well done
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Thank you! this started as a very different story, but I found that I wanted to see how much I could do with just a face.
Reblogged this on SteneAnker.
[…] Given the lashes his ass had already received, the light swipes must have been agony. He stared straight ahead, his face blank. When she drew her arm back and laid into his back, he arched his back his neck straining and his gaze on the ceiling. #Thurstale Read More […]