Eyes closed, you may as well be blindfolded, and yet my gaze is almost tangible as it travels down your back to your bare ass, prizing the bronze skull clenched tight inside.

You can almost taste the lines of hunger I’ve drawn so tightly between you, and when my fingers spread around the hilt of my shaft, I press them against your sex from behind, finding you spread wet and hot, and my words are almost inevitable: “This, too, is mine.”

I finally unwind my fingers from your hair, running them down the folds of green cloth covering your spine, before letting them fall away. You feel me reach for something from beside your bed.

“One of my favorites.” It is cool, the smooth wood of the paddle as I lay it against your thigh.

It’s small and the smooth surface is deceptively light against your skin – and yet, you know, you know, it promises a very particular and sharp reminder of just how exposed you are.

It will leave you marked.

And you confess inwardly just how much you will love every moment of it, even as you give way to the crisp pain it brings. And the first time it kisses your skin, you know you are right: the pain driving you to the edge and the adrenaline that follows making your pulse pound hard enough to drown out my words.

And it doesn’t matter because the second time the paddle finds your skin words cease to matter: there’s just wood and skin and the sound of it, the sound of bared flesh being painted with an implement in my hand.

In the rhythm, a steady rain of blows against your skin, you lose yourself; the paddle kisses the top of your thighs, then higher, leaving a ladder of red marks along the curved offering of your perfect ass. All the while my fist in your hair, my cock so hard, moving inside as we rock with each slap.

And the worst part – the best part – is knowing I understand how each blow leaves you needing more.

More words pressed into your heart.

More reminders left on your skin.

More.

I don’t relent.

I work your skin, my patience edged with need.

Feeling your insides tighten with each touch of the paddle. Your cunt cries slick with need. Squeezing my manhood, as I stroke you to the intimate depths of your gorgeous cunt.

I pause, resting the paddle against your upper back, leaning close, my words spoken with the soft determination that marks my approaching desire: “God, baby, you’re so good”

And my cock slips deeper inside you from behind, pressing inward with firm but slow intent, filling you. Only to be drawn out just as slowly and driven in again.

Harder.

Deeper

Again.

And again.

Until you’re shuddering to feel my climax against the hard edge.

With only a moment’s respite before my fingers grip your flesh, pulling you to a frenzy, demanding your all, as I hard fuck my confession deep inside you. My cock a rod of steel. Spunking hot and violent. Claiming you for all time. Fuck, you take me to another place.

continue…