My face rests in linen, my eyes are closed, my hair is run up the nape of my neck the start of a spine that runs the length of my back, white and flecked with beauty marks like a constellation.
My belly is pushed hard on the bed and my bottom is raised. I present myself to you, legs bent at the knee and spread apart like a newspaper. You write all over me, trailing your fingers along the creamy papery skin. Soft and malleable. You pinch and stroke, looking at me scientifically, deciding where to experiment and penetrate. A hard smack comes down. A crack in the light. A dim punishment. My breath leaves me evenly, a long sigh. I push my bottom into your cupped hand, where the heat has begun and the fingerprints will be left. Twice more, short hard smacks, making my buttocks move, the skin tightens and the pulsing starts between my legs.
You run your flat palms along my sides feeling the curve bend in then out like a timer. Your hands cup my breasts, hard nipples caught between your spread fingers, trapped and compressed. Back down and a further hit to quicken the heart and move the blood around the body. A smack again, a pinch and a smack. I am breathing hard now and I’m in pain and pleasured. My bottom is littered with palm lines. You spread me apart and I am ashamed. I am plump and glistening and full of fire and mercury. Dripping and oily and clenched.
“That's disgusting”.
You hold me gently to feel the quiver and need. I would desperately like you to touch me in all my shame and my glory, with my red bottom and my flinching muscles. You slick a finger between my lips running it from the tip of the pleasure right down to the cleft between my buttocks. You pause there, rubbing gently. I squirm, uncomfortable and fascinated. You smack down hard again. I am jolted and shocked. You smack side to side knocking my bottom with the palm and back of your hand, taking pleasure in the metronome effect. I am dripping from between my lips and from my eyes. A sob of relief and sodden degradation. You slick your fingers between my folds again. Rubbing at my lump and skin. Hands gripped at the flesh. Frantically twisting the knot of satisfaction. I moan guttural and needy into the dark. You smack me again. I moan, you smack, the repetition seems satisfyingly endless. Your fingers thrust into the dark as your thumb stimulates the awful Sodom place. I am confused and feel vile.
”You’re enjoying that aren't you?”
A silence is left to provoke. A hard smack thunders on the bruised skin.
”Answer me”
I cry, “Yes”. I would scream it if I had the strength. I love to be hurt by you, you release me and fill me with sensation. The electric sting of your hands courses through my veins like a ghost. You finger and rub and play me forcefully. You are flooding us both. Sensation and fluid and fantasy. I am numbed and I am wrong and I beg again for redemption. “Please hit me”.
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