From part 2… His hand shook as he scrawled out the big, block letters on his other foot. She nodded when he was done, and thought about the list. “Next is crawling, I believe.” She chuckled then, and smiled. “Maybe you’re smarter than I thought.” One eyebrow bounced up. “Or maybe not.”
“Stay.” She patted him on the head as she walked by, and added a little extra wiggle as she left the room. He slumped a little, and tried to ignore the burning pain in the soles of his feet as he forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. He could hear her rummaging around in drawers, and tried to block out everything but the memory of warm, fuzzy pain and submission. His eyes slid closed.
“Off the bed.” He opened his eyes and slid forward. Her back was towards him, and she was fiddling with something on top of the dresser. When she turned, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the knee pads they had bought last year to redo the floors. She squatted down and set them carefully in front of him. His breath hissed through his teeth when he saw the grains of uncooked rice in each plastic cup.
“Lay down, face on the floor.” He looked up at her with pleading eyes as he lowered his nude body to the floor. Her hands grabbed his legs one at a time, lifting them up and slipping the pads under his knees. The nylon straps wrapped around his legs, cinching down tight. She curled his leg up and pushed down, testing the tightness. He gasped as the hard grains but into his knees, and she smiled. “And to think not that long ago you thought people used cooked rice for this.”
He grunted as she repeated the process with the other leg. “You have to admit it does help get rid of left overs.”
She snorted and slapped his ass. “Not if you order extra fried rice with every meal, it doesn’t. Roll over and sit up.”
He turned over and did and awkward situp while she retrieved more items from the dresser. “Put these on.” She carelessly tossed him two heavy leather gloves stained with sweat and varnish, leftovers from the same project, and walked back over with the box of rice and a roll of tape.
He pulled the gloves on each hand and held them out. She pushed his hands down, pulled the wide mouth of the gloves open, and dumped a generous portion into the gloves. She grabbed the leather palms and pulled them out so the rice could settle between his skin and the leather, and then picked up the roll of tape. “I don’t need you wasting my good rice spilling it all over the floor, and I certainly don’t feel like running the vacuum later.”
She started the tape and began wrapping it around the opening of the gloves, sealing them against his skin. The adhesive pulled the glove down tight against his skin. She stood up and grinned down at him. “Well, you said your hands and knees were for crawling. Crawl.”
“Yes ma’am.” He rolled over, wincing as his knees hit the floor and grains of rice dug into the thin skin and hit bone. He pushed down with one hand experimentally, and grimaced as the rice ground into the meatier flesh of his palms. It wasn’t as bad, but still an annoyance, a reminder that each movement would cause pain.
Her foot hit his ass and he rocked forward and back, hissing as his weight shifted and the rice found new spots to torment. “From one side of the room to the other, until I come. Then you can stop, but not before.”
He nodded and started a slow, shuffling crawl, forcing himself to pick up one knee and move it forward, the extra weight on the other knee bringing a sharp twinge of pain. Then a hand as he balanced on his knees and other hand, then the other side of this body. She grinned down at him, then shimmied out of her panties. The green cloth slid down her thighs then her legs until it emerged from the bottom of her sun dress. She raised one ankle and pulled them the rest of the way off, and considered carefully.
“What the hell, you were good through the caning, I’ll give you a little reward.” She caught up to him easily and pulled the wet cloth over his face, letting the crotch dangle over his face. One eye looked up at her from a leg hole, and he grinned. “Thank you ma’am.”
She grinned back and put one foot down on his hand, slowly increasing her weight, driving the rice into his hand further. “You’re not crawling.”
He turned his eyes back down and started a slow shuffle forward again. She hopped on the bed, lying on her side, and pulled her dress up around her hips. Her hand started to play with her clit, rubbing gently in a small circle. She watched him crawl across the room, his hesitant, jerking motions as the pain shifted across his body from one point to the other.
The rice bit into his knee when he moved his opposite leg forward, and she pushed down a little as she saw the pain in his eyes. She let up as he moved his hands forward carefully, testing carefully before he put them down. She rubbed faster as he turned around and she saw his semi-hard cock hanging below him as he tortured himself for her. Despite his protestations, he was getting off on this, and the thought made her smile and slide her fingers up and down her slit.
He could hear her gasps and the wet, fleshy sounds of self-pleasure as he forced himself to move across the room. When he wanted to fall over on his side and let the pain fade he listened to her breathing, getting faster and more out of control, and focused on that as he forced his limbs to keep moving. He tried to block out his pain and focus on the sounds of her pleasure, to catch glimpses of her from the corner of his eye, to memorize every detail of her half-closed eyes and her fingers working on her cunt as he reached a wall and turned around in an awkward semi-circle.
She grinned and shifted her hips, putting on a little show for him each time his eyes wandered over. “Faster, crawl faster, or I’ll go take a cold shower and order a pizza. You’ll be doing this for an hour before I come back.” She made her hand slow down then stop, linger over her pussy without touching it.
He groaned but forced himself to move faster, move less carefully. The rice drove itself into his skin and bones as his hands and knees came down harder, and the pain came in hot spikes that wracked his entire body. The kneepads made lot cracking sounds as the hard plastic collided with the floor, and the leather gloves made meaty slaps as they hit the floor and drove the grains of rice into the palms of his hands.
She moaned and started jerking herself off faster and harder. He lurched across the room, and she saw the spasms of pain cross his face faster, each one distorting his features a little more. His movements got awkward as his body started to instinctively flee the pain, and it became harder for him force himself forward. He flailed and slapped his way across the room like a crippled animal, and she sighed and rubbed her clit a little harder.
“Ugggghhhhh…” She moaned and came, timing it as he was halfway across the room. He turned his head as far he could and rushed forward, nearly colliding with the far wall before he started turning in a slow circle, eager to see her come.
She carefully pulled her fingers away and let her dress fall. Her body slumped on the bed, and she listened to her heartbeat and gasping breaths, and the sounds of his crawling in the background. “Oh, take a break.” She smiled magnanimously at him, and rolled over on her back. “Lay down on your side. You earned it.”
He stopped and carefully lowered his body to the floor, laying on his side, his knees and hands still raw and burning from where the rice had gouged its way into his flesh. He looked across the room at her and smiled, until…
“Besides, next up is kneeling, and you’re going to need the breather.”
Preview: The List 4: Knees are for Kneeling
Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.