26 February 2007


"Turn over," Jefferson ordered me. "I'm going to beat you now."

I turned onto my stomach and watched as he took all the necessary equipment out of the closet.

He started immediately with the cat, whipping me lightly to warm my skin up.

As my flesh pinked, his strokes got harder. I cringed as I heard the whoosh of the cat in the air.

And I know he specifically does that to psych me out.

I moaned and squirmed as the cat hit my ass and back. My bottom lip curled as I contemplated why I was getting a beating that day.

Jefferson dropped the cat, taking the cane in its place. He tapped it lightly on my ass, making me whimper as I got accustomed to the sting.

He snapped it harder on my skin. I yelped and twisted under the pain. I grabbed a pillow, hugging it, trying to stay more still. My body was coated in a fine sheen of sweat in response to the bite of the cane working its way over my ass and the backs of my legs.

The end of the tapped on my shoulders a few times. A handful more strikes on my ass, and Jefferson grabbed the cat again, hitting hard on my sensitve skin.

I moaned softly as I was deep into subspace at this point.

He stopped, and climbed on top of me, covering me with his body. I wrapped my arms around his, lacing our fingers together.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," I said, on the verge of tears.
"It's all better now," he promised me.

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