Every Square Inch


She stopped the length of rubber just before it slammed into his back again and leaned in close.  “OK, OK.  Was that too much?”

“Too much in the same spot.  I think.  Ma’am.”  He spoke in short gasps between deep breaths.

“Do you want to stop?”

He shook his head.  “No, I just need a little break.”

She nodded and looked over his back critically, listened to his breathing.  “Go get yourself a glass of water.  No hurry. Bring back that clear plastic grid I use for sewing.  The one with the one-inch squares on it.  Since you’re being such a good boy, you don’t have to crawl or shove the plug in your ass this time.”

“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am.”

He walked out of the room carefully, flashes of warm pain radiating from his back in time with his pulse.  He filled a glass of water, drained it, then filled it again.  By the time it was empty his breath was normal, controlled.  He found the plastic square and went back.

She was sitting on the edge of the tub, filling it with water.  “Put that down.  Come here.”

He walked into the bathroom, feeling the air getting warm from the hot water.  Fog had already started to settle on the mirror, and his silhouette was a formless shape as he passed.

She looked at the water level critically, then shut the tap off.  From the floor beside her she pulled a grocery bag into her lap, reached inside and handed him a blue cylinder with “SALT” written in block letters down one side.  “Dump it in.”

He worked the paper tab loose and pulled the metal spout up with a fingernail.  The cylinder over and salt hissed out into the water and dissolved.

She put more of the blue cylinders on the sink, leaned back when the bag was empty and watched the white crystals pour out.  “I had originally planned to beat you until your entire back was bloody, you know.  But I think that might be a little much.  Can’t do it on the lower back anyway.  So when you’re done, we’ll finish up with the needles.  By the time I’m through, each inch of your back will have an open wound.”

She smiled at him.  “I think you can see where things will go from there, but we have a little time, and I’ve always wanted to give a super-villain monologue anyway, so what the hell?”

The trickle of salt slowed and died, and he stared at her as he opened another container of salt and started to pour.

“When I’m done with your back, I’ll  drag you in here by your hair, and you’re going to get in the tub.  You’re going to lay back, and hold yourself up with your elbows so your back is out of the water.  I’m going to take off my pants, squat down in the tub, and pull your face into my cunt.”

“Whenever you’re ready to see what that salt is going to feel like on all that broken skin, you just make me cum.  I’m kind of hoping you take your time.  I mean, my arm is tired from beating you, and I made a special trip to buy the salt…. I’ve really gone to a lot of work here.  So I’m hoping you take awhile to make me come, that you really get to think about how much it’s going to hurt when I have an orgasm, and shove you down into that water.  I’m even thinking of pissing while you’re eating me out, just to throw you off some.  I know you love it, but it might be worth it just to make the anticipation of all that pain last a little bit longer.”

“I’m really curious about it what it’s going to feel like having you screaming into my cunt while I come on your face.  The water won’t go over your head, so I think I should  get some pretty good acoustics.  It’s already making me wet, just the thought of all that pain rolling through you while I have an orgasm.”

She looked at the upended container with nothing coming out and stood up.  Put his chin in her hand and made him meet her eyes.  “Or you can pull the plug and drain the tub.  We’ll finish up with a regular scene, nothing too intense, take a shower and hang out the rest of the night.  Maybe see a movie.”

They looked at each other, and neither was sure who smiled first.

He nodded, and licked his lips.  “You fucked up your evil villain monologue there at the end.”

She chuckled and shrugged.  “Guess I did.  Seriously, if this is too much, it’s no big.”

Arms wrapped around her and hugged her tight.  “I’d like to know what it feels like to scream into your cunt while you have an orgasm too.  Ma’am.”

She buried her face in his chest and sighed contentedly, then found a piece of his flesh and bit down until he gasped and let go.  “Oh, you will then.  Your back will tell you.  Every.  Square.  Inch.”

Copyright Jerry Jones.  Unauthorized use is prohibited.

9 thoughts on “Every Square Inch”

  1. I love it when he gets a choice, he will always choose the hardest harshest most painful thing. Submissive boys are amazing like that!

    Great story.


  2. Thanks Mike. I wish I could say it was art, but actually I just have a very short attention span.

  3. Why did she need all that salt poured into the bath.Surely her piss is salty enough.Or perhaps he could wet himself.That would be a feat woth watching.I think they would have to content themselves with making him flood the bath and lay in his own urine.

    Cum from a vagina or penis is salty.Surely she could rub herself against his back fel the cut marks and weals directly on her lips and clit.

    Tears are salty.Hers of joy and his of joy and pain.

  4. Damn I loved this.

    “Or you can pull the plug and drain the tub. We’ll finish up with a regular scene, nothing too intense, take a shower and hang out the rest of the night. Maybe see a movie.”

    This genuinely moved me. I shuddered when I read it. It is so damn beautiful and so fucking hot at the same time.

    Like Ferns I love that the choice is there.


    And here’s why…

    1. She would still have his company and enjoy it if he wasn’t up to this. She likes him. That warms my chest, it really does.
    2. He has to take the next step with her. She makes him/ lets him own that he wants this too.
    3. They smile and hug. There is no huge transition out of role. Just a little step back, and it’s acknowledged, playfully. “You fucked up your evil villain monologue there at the end.” Their sexual existence is not some grueling metamorphosis of who they actually are. I love this.
    4. “She buried her face in his chest and sighed contentedly” Damn I sighed too. They are in love, or something close to it.
    5. “Or you can pull the plug” Sorry. Had to say that it loved literal placing of this phase. I’ll never hear it again without chuckling to myself.

    This is the first story I’ve read of yours and I apologise for stating what is perhaps the blindingly obvious. If it were me in the actual scene I would probably fuck the whole thing up properly by listing off (possibly on my fingers) just why it is so brilliant.

    I look forward to reading the rest of your work. Damn it, if Buffy Summers really is your inspiration then I’m inclined to acquaint myself with hers also.

    1. Thanks Dan, I made myself some rules when I started this, and I’m pretty sure no. 1 was “No fucking chateaus.” But no. 2 was that the people in these stories should actually like, or at least lust after, each other. I wanted to write stories where this was fun, in an ouchy sort of way. Glad it seems to have worked.

      The Buffy Summers comment was actually a reference to the Buffy the Vampire Slayers TV show. I’m not sure how much you’ll enjoy it, but I like it. And some pretty blatant domination themes do pop up from time to time.

      Thanks again for reading and commenting, hope you find some other stories you like.


  5. I love your rule no 1. Brilliant. Thank you.

    I know who Buffy Summers is although I’ve never seen the series. I’ve had it on serveral good authorities now that I should spend time with it.

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