It reminds me of that feeling you get when you’re about to get on a roller coaster. My stomach is tight with anticipation, fear laced with thrill. The unknown looming ahead with both the promise of fun and the threat of danger.
I’m not an idiot—I know this is going to hurt, but pain has always enticed me. I want to feel it in the same way most people fear it. Like a fuse about to reach the dynamite, I need the pain to give me the release I’m looking for. I crave the explosion.
“Ready?” she asks.
Pressing my forehead against the mattress, I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
The first smack of the paddle is easy. It stings, but goes away quickly, leaving only a subtle throb behind.
“One,” I call. There’s a moment of nothing before the second blow, this one a little harder. It’s like the click-click-click of the coaster as it carries me up to the peak of the ride. Torturous anticipation.
“Two,” I announce.
The third smack is even harder, but I’m hyped up with confidence. I can handle this.
With each hit of the paddle, my cock stirs and my body tingles with excitement. It hurts, but it’s also erotic as fuck.
By the time the dozen paddle smacks are over, I’m overly confident. Maybe my pain tolerance is too high for this. But I’m in my sub role, which means I can’t ask her for anything, including to hit me harder.
“How are you feeling?” she asks as I hear her put the paddle down.
“Good, ma’am.”
“Can I get a color?”
“A color?”
“Green, yellow, or red, Beau? Or were you not paying attention when I was giving you the rules?” I was definitely not paying attention, so it’s a good thing I’ve read up on the traffic light safeword system.
“Oh, green. Sorry, Ma’am.”
She fists my hair and pulls it back, so my head is level with her face. “Good boy.”
I smile against the mattress after she releases me, a feeling of pride washing over me when I hear her pick something else up.
“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? You wanted me to punish you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Keep that in mind. We’ll do twelve this time,” she replies. Moments later, a widespread pain throbs at the back of my right thigh. It aches, causing my muscles to tense along my legs and back.
“Oh, fuck!” I howl as I fight against the restraints. That was unexpected.
“I think you should thank me as you count, since I’m giving you what you wanted.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I growl against the mattress.
It strikes again at my left thigh, just under my ass, and I let out a long grunt again.
“Don’t forget to count.”
“Two. Thank you, ma’am.” I groan.
This pain is more exhausting than the sting of the paddle. I never know where it’s going to hit as she swings in a figure eight pattern, striking up and then down. The wide reach of the flogger means it hurts everywhere. My forehead is starting to sweat, and the only thing my mind can focus on is counting, each accompanied by a thank you, ma’am.
After each hit, I feel her hand stroke my thighs and ass, and the physical contact is welcome, but it almost breaks me harder than the hits. It’s a gentle reminder that she’s here, and I’m safe—even if the pain is fucking excruciating.
When we get to twelve, I’m tempted to say yellow. At the beginning of this, I was so cocky and sure I could take it. But now, my whole body is pain personified. If my dick is still hard, I don’t even know it.