I lay prone on the bed. He circled around me. I could hear his footsteps, though he was not within my range of sight. My head rested on a pillow, my wrists fastened by soft leather cuffs to the headboard, my legs free. A hand glided up my calf and rested just below my knee. He squeezed gently. I obeyed the command and scooted into a kneeling position.
Balasana. I relaxed into the pose, my chest resting on my knees, stretching my hips and back, my arms stretched in front of me (nevermind the restraints).
I breathed evenly through my nose, my eyes closed, listening for Him. He was never far from me, I knew, even if I could not see him. Tonight, He promised, I would be tested. He had new tools to try out, and He liked to push my limits.
I felt his breath on my neck and his voice tickled my ear.
‘You may not like this much, my pet,’ He said to me, ‘but I will. Very much.’
The first strike landed square on my backside. The pain was sharp, almost explosive. I felt the skin flush and flare with a rush of blood. I clenched my teeth together and did not make a sound. The second strike followed, just as sharp, a second explosive point of pain, just next to the first. I whimpered, but held still.
‘Riding crop,’ He murmured. I knew the feel of it. He started with his favourite toy. The soft, supple leather had peppered my back, my arms, my legs, my chest with weals of His affection for months. He like the flexible shaft of it, the sound it made barely a whisper through the air before the smack of leather meeting flesh.
He trailed his fingers up my spine. I shivered, waiting.
The next blow came unexpectedly. He moved to the other side of me, so I was unprepared for the impact that rocked me. A wide, hard object struck me across my backside with a loud *thump*. I squeaked and my fingers curled into fists against the slats of the headboard.
I heard Him mutter something indistinct. He always liked talking to Himself. I raised my hips slightly from where I was resting them on my heels. He put a hand on the small of my back and I settled back down. He smacked my ass slightly in reproach, but not hard enough to hurt, just enough to tell me I wasn’t allowed to move. I wiggled a little, then stilled.
Another impact came, just like the one before, something wide and hard that rocked me up slightly. It felt like He was trying to hit me with a baseball bat, and my body wanted to be propelled forward by the motion. I whimpered again. The pain bloomed hot where He hit. He traced up my exposed side with whatever it was He used to hit me. It felt cool and smooth, with a narrow edge. Wood maybe? He did not like synthetic toys.
I heard Him place it on the bedside table with a clatter. The sound made me jump, but He put a steadying hand on my shoulder. He squeezed briefly and I felt myself start to slip a little. It was strange to me how easily He put me under. Just a little bit of His will pitted against my own and I started to slip away. The pain helped. Always tightly controlled, He knew how to tune me up in the most exquisite way.
‘Wooden paddle,’ He murmured this time, loud enough for me to hear him. My face was flushed and I turned it to the coolness of the pillow. He touched my forehead, His signal I was to keep my eyes closed. I nodded and exhaled softly.
There was a rustling sound behind me, like paper wrapping being removed. I heard something whistle slightly through the air near my head, like a willow switch being tested out. I felt nervous. I wanted to edge away. I did not like canes at all.
His finger tapped my left heel. I obeyed the command and stretched out prone on the bed again, trembling slightly. I forced myself to relax and breathe evenly through my nose again. I was not prepared. Not even a little bit.
This time, pain exploded in a stripe across the back of my thighs. I screamed. I tried to wriggle away and stay put at the same time. My wrists tugged at the restraints, but the held fast, my arms stretched above my head. My legs bent at the knees in an instinctive response to try to cover myself, curl up on myself, make myself smaller.
His hand gripped my ankle firmly and pulled my leg down.
‘No,’ He said. The sound of His voice permeated the panic and I stilled. My eyes still squeezed shut, my body shaking, I smothered a whimper that threatened to pass my lips. I wanted to be good for Him. He knew that.
He looped something over my ankle. I heard the rattle of a chain being fastened to the footboard of the bed and the jingle of the buckle of an ankle cuff. I was tied down at three points now.
The second stripe of pain came without warning. He drew a line of fire across my calves and I screamed again, and jerked my legs, but the ankle bound to the bed stopped me from moving.
‘Stop,’ He said softly. I stilled immediately at the command. He caressed my cheek softly, and I nuzzled at the palm of his hand. He cupped my face while he hit me again, twice in rapid succession, across my thighs and backside. I bit down on a scream and pressed my cheek to his hand, gasping.
‘Good, pet,’ He said and stepped away from the bed. I felt fuzzy around the edges, and the pain bloomed in sharp streaks across my skin. I drew in a shaky breath and let it out, mewling softly.
He moved around the bed again. This newest torture implement was placed on the bedside table with a hollow *clunk*. The pain made my eyes water, but I did not cry. I reached for the pain and the fuzzy edges flared in my head, softening everything.
Pain kissed my shoulder blade. The riding crop again. I knew this pain, and I revelled in it. I moaned softly as He kissed me again and again with the biting leather tip of the tool. I felt the whole of my back flare with rosettes of pain. He beat me meticulously, in even rows and matched on various axes of symmetry. He painted me with pain like an artist. My hips rose to meet the kiss of the riding crop.
He spanked me unexpectedly with the wooden paddle. I let out a yelp of surprise and jerked up. He grabbed me by my free ankle, held me down and hit me again, landing the blow just on the right side of my bottom. A second blow followed, balancing my right and left. A third blow followed, then a fourth. On the fifth, I screamed, my backside was on fire, and I yanked at my ankle that was in His hand.
‘NO!’ He thundered, and I immediately stopped moving, despite the fact that I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. The pain cut through all the fuzzy outlines, made the world all sharp corners and bright light, even though my closed eyes. I gasped and forced myself not to writhe, forced myself to lay exposed and vulnerable to His machinations.
He dropped the paddle on the bed next to me. I felt the smooth cool edge of it touching my side, just at my ribs. I heard him pick up the cane from the bedside table and I whimpered. I could not stop the sound from escaping. I was terribly afraid of what came next.
He touched my back, tracing the line of my shoulder blades with his fingers. I quivered at his touch, soft and warm and gentle. He cupped my bottom with his hand and squeezed. I let out a breathless giggle that morphed into a strangled scream when the cane landed in a strip diagonally across my backside. His touch withdrew and He hit me again and again with the cane. My world melted in pain. Tears came. I sniffled quietly into the pillow.
He traded the cane for the crop again and plagued my thighs and calves with it. I could not even move anymore, could not even cringe away from the points of pain as they presented. My eyes were closed and the world was red behind them, just the pain setting everything inside me on fire.
He pulled my free ankle so my legs were spread and kissed the inside of my thighs with the leather crop. Three slaps to each thigh and then three more and then a third set of three. I was shaking and had lost all of my words. I hurt and I hurt and I wanted to go away but each touch scattered my head and I could not find the way.
The final blow landed lightly on the sole of my foot. I shook at that touch, cringed away from it. I was whimpering and mewling and He placed the palms of his hands on my heels. I lifted my left ankle slightly at the signal and He unbuckled the restraint. My hands were unbound next, and he rolled me onto my side.
I lay there where he placed me, shaking and crying. He lay down on his side, facing me. He pulled me against His chest and I sobbed quietly while He stroked my hair. The shaking subsided first, then the tears. I sniffled a little then lifted my chin to look at Him.
He regarded me thoughtfully, not smiling. But something gleamed in His eye. He traced one of my eyebrows with a finger and then leant in for a kiss. He barely brushed my lips with His, then pulled away. I could feel the heat of His body, feel the beating of His heart, strong, steady, and reassuring. Just like His hands.
He kissed my forehead, then put His arm back around me, and cradled me against Him.
‘Good,’ He whispered against my hair. ‘You are a very good pet.’ He lay with me cuddled up to His chest until I fell asleep.
