Perfectly Painted

In an effort to get my head on straight before going back to work after the holidays, I invited Mr. Intensity over for a play.  His plan was to use me as he saw fit, and leave it at that- a plan that he executed flawlessly.

He arrived, and we caught up for a bit- it had been a while since we had seen each other.  Eventually, after trading holiday stories and COVID thoughts (typically conversation fodder this time of year), he said “let’s get upstairs and get your pants off,” which proved to be a fairly effective transition.

I obliged, receiving a most excellent tit groping right off the bat.  He didn’t bring rope with him this time- a deviation from his usual.  He blindfolded me as always, turning my world to black in favour of relying on other senses and sensations.  I was instructed to lay on my back on the bed, and felt his hands, rough and playful, kneading and pinching my tits.  It felt good to be handled this way, his hands groping handfuls of each breast while his mouth teased my nipples, sucking with a ferocity on my skin to leave marks.  He painted a picture on them, leaving me with marks- subtle and non- all over the soft skin. 

He then sat on my chest, rubbing his cock between them, spitting into my cleavage for lube.  He instructed me to sick my tongue all the way out, and keep it out- he rubbed the head of his cock up and down my tongue as he fucked my tits, every now and then working it into my mouth and against my throat.  He spit on my tongue periodically for extra lube (and of course to send a message), while my only focus was to lay still and keep my tongue out- to let him use me. 

When he had had enough of my tits (for now), he turned me onto my stomach, cuffing my hands tightly behind my back.  I did my best to relax into the mattress, knowing that it was time for some impact play.  One of my favourite things about playing with him is his ability to make it feel like he has four or five hands- he scaffolds the impacts, punctuating them with featherlight touches, in a truly expert way to keep me guessing throughout.

He started with his hands, kneading my ass much like he did my tits- firm, greedy handfuls, massaging deep into the tissue.  The riding crop was first, testing my reactions.  After a few firm slaps, he brought it gently over my ass, down each leg- the anticipation mixed with the teasing sensation was almost too much to bear, and I focused on staying relaxed in anticipation of the inevitable next blow. 

The next few blows came from his hands, with enough force to make me yelp.  He worked at warming me up with each slap in a different place, intermittently tracing his fingertips over his handiwork, leaving fire in their path.  He then switched tools, bringing out a flogger made of tiny chains- it sounded like a slinky, or a delicate wind chime.  It felt like the sting of a bee.  The pleasant tingle of metal on metal was a decided contrast to the whirlwind of biting stings on my ass.  He whipped it around in circles, allowing only the ends to connect sharply with my body, forcing me to breathe deeply and moan to absorb the sensation.  My bound arms ached, but that was nothing compared to the constant and continued assault of my ass.

When he was satisfied, he applied a few more slaps for good measure before escalating to a heavy, knotted leather flogger.  He once told me that it hits like a ton of bricks, and he isn’t wrong.  Each blow stings, but the pain burrows in deeper than the surface.  I could feel each blow long after its delivery, my body automatically tensing each time.  I breathed deeply, making a considerable effort to ground myself each time. On his last strike, he made me ask for it.

I took a deep breath afterward, allowing relief to infiltrate my body as I thought we were done.  I then felt the cold kiss of a titanium rod resting across my ass.  I braced for impact, but he left it there, hanging in the balance.  He told me that if the rod moved, I was going to be hit with it.  I gulped, knowing that its bit was worse than anything I had yet experienced.  He alternated between various implements and his hands as he tried to get me to flinch.  I have not concentrated on anything that hard in two weeks.  Deep breaths, trying to compartmentalize the sting in my body to a far off place in my mind, not allowing myself the normal reactions to self-protect.  The bit of leather and the slap of hands was consuming, but I stayed just relaxed enough not to let the rod fall- despite a few close calls.  I managed to impress him, which with this particular partner is a feat worthy of just a touch of smugness.

In the end it was he who knocked the rod off of my ass in a flurry of slaps.  He did hit me with it, but only once- enough to get a scream out of me.  Oof.  He admired his work, the bruises from a few key blows already beginning to form.  My ass was tender and red, with some deep tissue soreness that I know I will feel for days.  I felt calm, grounded, and completely relaxed.

He uncuffed me, rolling me back onto my back.  He took some time to marvel at my bruising tits before sitting back on my chest, rubbing his hard cock between them yet again.  He used my tongue and mouth as he saw fit, alternating between instructing me to suck, and to leave my tongue out.  The first rope of hot cum hit my face, the next hit my throat, and the next hit my tits, finishing his perfectly painted picture.

Like Mr. Intensity’s style? Read more of his stories here.

Published by aliddell106

30 something woman- writer of erotica, blogger of all things BDSM and beyond. Tall, curvy, blonde; intelligent, grounded, hilarious. High pressure job, experienced submissive.

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