Page 3 of Playing With My Fire

“Tell me, slave, why are we here?”

This time there’s no hesitation. “To take me down a peg or two.”

I soften my hold further and begin to move my fist up and down his hot, rigid flesh.

“That’s right,” I purr. “You’ve grown too big for your britches, and I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Still holding onto his dick, I lead him to the cross. I place each wrist in the attached cuffs with his back facing me.

Before I wander over to my chest of goodies, I drag my nails down his back hard enough to leave four distinct red lines, but not hard enough to break the skin. He shudders but manages to stay silent.

As I said before, I’m not big on impact play, but I have enough tools to get by. A few paddles of differing sizes, a flogger, and a cane. But what I’m looking for today is my crop. It’s a favorite of mine, one that gets used more than the others. It offers a sharp, biting kind of pain in small spots giving me the option to scatter the punishing strikes against every inch of his delectable body.

I move behind him until the length of my frame connects with his. He begins to push his ass back until I strike the crop against his calf.

“You have no control here, slave. You will take what I give you and like it.”

Another shiver runs down his spine. “Thank you, Mistress.”

I lazily run the leather ribbon at the end of the crop up and down his side, from ankle to shoulder, and everywhere in between.

“Is my little whore ready for his discipline?” I whisper directly in his ear before biting the lobe.

He jerks. “I’m ready, Mistress.” Words laced with imploring desperation.

Who am I to deny him?

Oh, that’s right, I’m his master, and by the end of the night, there will be no question on the matter.

I step back until I have enough room to maneuver so I can run the crop up and down and all around until his breathing evens out. Only after he releases a sigh do I quickly raise it, and strike his left butt cheek in the same breath.

He only chokes out a breath, so it must not have been enough. With a little more force I bring it down on the other cheek.

He gasps.

Again, harder and faster against the crease of one leg.

He groans.

Against his other leg, back and forth, I move the crop between his ass and the backs of his legs until he’s crying out, but not for mercy.

“Color, slave?”

Most Doms and subs use the red, yellow, and green method. It’s easier than keeping track of safe words when you have numerous play partners.

It takes him several tries before he spits out. “G-green.”

I approach until I’m close enough to feel the heat radiating from his red backside. I grind my pelvis against him hard enough to make him moan in the sweetest mixture of pleasure and agony.

“Are you sure, whore?”

He nods and shudders out, “Yes, Mistress.”

I grasp his jaw and turn his face so I can study it. His eyes are glazed with desire, the pupils dilated until it’s nothing but a sea of obsidian.

I lick his salty skin from chin to cheek. “Are you ready for more?”

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