But I change my mind on the next blow. This one bites into my ass, leaving me breathless.
He puts his hand on the arch of my derrière. "Stay still. I don't want the crop to land in the wrong place."
The next few smacks are the hardest yet. I cry out at each one, and the stinging doesn't dissipate as quickly as before. The tingling of my skin turns into a burning sensation.
"How are we doing, Virginia?"
"Good."
Maybe I shouldn't have said that for it turns into an invitation to spank me harder. One of the strikes brings tears to my eyes. I start thinking about my safety word.
"You're doing great," he says, pausing to caress the need still pulsing between my legs, building the agitation and making me feel like I'll happily endure more of the crop if he will just make me come.
A minute or so later, he returns to hitting me with the crop. It's getting more challenging keeping my ass in the air for the sole purpose of receiving pain. But I don't want to come across wimpy. I don't want him to regret spending more time with me. So even though I feel like I'm getting poked by hundreds of needles each time the crop falls, I refrain from using my safety word. Plus, when he fondles me, the pain recedes in favor of lust. I moan in pleasure as he plays with my clit.
"You want me to make you come, don't you?" he asks.
I murmur, "Yes, Sir."
"That will be your reward for doing such a good job."
He leaves to put the crop in a basket by the doorway. I'm thinking that's where the used implements go, hopefully to be cleaned before their next use.
"Now for the thudding."
I wonder which items deliver thuds over stings. They all seem like they're capable of both.
He spots my textbook. "This will do."
Oh my God. I never would've thought economics could be used for this.
He kneels behind me, and there are no gentle taps this time.
Whack!
My body is driven into the mattress, taking away my breath. Whereas the sting of the crop made me feel as if my skin might crack open, the textbook feels like it will give me bruises. I'm not sure which is worse.
Whack!
I feel the blow all the way from my ass to my head. I'm never going to be able to look at my textbook the same way again. How am I going to read about supply and demand curves now?
"Stay still," Tony reminds me when my body wavers.
He delivers another teeth-jarring blow. Why did I agree to do this?
He answers my question when he touches me, tenderly caressing my burning, aching rump. His fingers return to working their magic. While he strokes my clit, he sinks his thumb into my slit. I’m still a little sore there, but it feels like my clit is being pleasured on both sides, inside and out. I start to tremble. The pain starts blurring with the pleasure, which is much more intense than the masturbation he performed on me at the Drescott. I pray he doesn't stop until I climax.
"Is there something you need to ask me?" he prompts.
Question? What the hell is he talking about?
He withdraws his hand.
No! Don't do that. I can do this. Question. He wants a question. I try not to panic.
And then it dawns on me.
"Can I come, Sir?"