Page 48 of Disturbed Lucidity

Every dark, sinister, demoralizing vestige of him.

He stepped to one side and smacked my ass. With a forceful thud, his fist landed squarely on the meat of my cheek, sending vibrations coursing through my body. Then he hit my other cheek. It was a disappointment, much less than I had prepared myself for, only a fraction of what I truly wanted.

I heard him unzipping his pants.

I had a sudden thought, maybe he was punishing me. Perhaps he was in a mischievous mood, intentionally taunting me, igniting my anticipation with a promise, only to abandon me without fulfillment.

My spine tingled once again as the sound of his belt sliding through the loops on his pants reached my ears. With a quick motion, he folded the leather in half and expertly snapped the pieces together. In the depths of my imagination, I could visualize his actions vividly—his grip on the buckle, the tail strong as he confidently raised both ends over his head.

On the other hand, the strike that hit its mark was gentle, akin to the gentle brush of a butterfly’s kiss against the leather, prompting me to let out a frustrated groan. He chuckled. The deep sound seared through me. He continued to strike me with the belt, each blow precise and delivered with a restrained force.

That’s when I realized he was gradually getting harder.

He moved closer to me, and I was aware of the soft touch of his pants against my rear end and the back of my thighs. The fabric felt unexpectedly rough against my tender skin, reminiscent of sandpaper woven from cotton. He kneeled over me, his intense heat seemed to smother every inch of my body and his heavy weight acted like an anchor, keeping me firmly in place. His breath was hot in my ear as he bit my earlobe.

“You’re mine, Ivy.”

I whimpered.

“I’m going to make you cry, baby. I promise you that.”

He stood, positioned himself behind me, then let his belt fly.

The forceful strike hit me hard, sending a wave of stinging pain pulsating through me. It had slipped my mind just how much the burn ignited my craving for more. What began as a gentle smolder, now raged fiercely, its heat engulfing me with a menacing intensity.

His hand moved with precision, snapping the belt against my skin, the impact hitting both of my cheeks simultaneously. With calculated movements, he glided the belt along my body, starting just below my tailbone and continuing down to the edge where my thighs met. Several of the smacks hit my clit, eliciting a deep moan from within my soul.

With each sting of the belt, my body responded with an intense surge of pleasure, my first orgasm overwhelming me. When he concentrated his attention on the fleshy part of my ass, a powerful orgasm welled up inside me, leaving me breathless. My fingers held the hand pegs tightly while I rocked my hips, grinding down as best I could.

He stopped long enough for me to think he might be done. The sound of the leather belt slicing through the air reached my ears, followed by the sharp sting on my backside, and it dawned on me that he hadn’t even started yet.

I emitted an eerie, guttural noise that I couldn’t even identify as I gave in to the overwhelming blaze that surrounded me, allowing it to devour me entirely. My ass was on fire. The sensation was akin to standing amidst a flaming inferno, testing my resolve to stay rooted in place. The profound sensation of liquid heat overwhelmed every fiber of my being, creating a boiling and burbling effect deep within me. It felt as if rippled currents of pleasure and pain were in constant collision, producing an intoxicating experience. Ultimately, I reached a state where I simply floated amidst the relentless flames, lost in a sea of indescribable sensations.

I heard him panting, grunting, and growling.

Or maybe that was me.

I couldn’t tell.

I heard his voice, but I didn’t have time to think about his words. I was cumming so hard that it hurt. The muscles in my stomach clenched and unclenched, a rhythmic pattern of contraction and release that repeated itself. My lungs felt constricted, like there was no oxygen to be found. My gasps grew louder as I desperately tried to draw in air, my lungs feeling deprived.

He stopped again.

The absence of sensation was disorienting.

The flames had grown so intense that they now covered my entire body, searing even the areas he hadn’t laid a hand on. The sensation of the rough bench against my nipples left them feeling tender, and my fingers grew tired and cramped from holding on. My arms felt weak. My eyes were hot and that was when I realized I was crying.

I was sobbing, in fact, and still, he kept going.

I yielded to his craving and my own, and as the endorphins coursed through my veins, I ascended to a heightened state of pleasure that had been absent for years.

Another orgasm punched its way into my soul, and I cried out.

He stopped.

I was panting, and so was he.

I tried to push myself up onto my elbows, but none of my muscles worked.

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