Learning to Crawl

She stood in the doorway, watching him slowly read the titles on the spines of her books, thinking about last night. She imagined what the bruises looked like under his shirt, and wondered how long they would take to heal. Finally, she whistled to let him know she was there.

He turned away from the bookcase, saw her, and grinned. “Hey, you feel like breakfast?” He glanced at his watch. “Or brunch? My treat.”

She shrugged. “Sure. There’s a few good places within walking distance.”

They pulled on shoes and shuffled around each other in the doorway, walking down the hall, each glancing at the other, opening their mouths then closing them. The elevator arrived and she saw the ghost cutout on the back wall looming above them, and cleared her throat. “You going to be anything for Halloween?”

His nose crinkled. “Yeah, a grown-up.”

She tried not to laugh, and snorted instead. “Oh, so sorry if I offended your dignity, mister maturity.”

He rolled his eyes. “Halloween is a totally fucked up holiday. If it were late March and I told you to dress a kid up in a costume, bring them by my apartment, and I’d give them some candy, how would you react?”

She punched the meaty bicep of his arm once, twice, then again. He flinched and laughed each time, leaning away from her in the small enclosure but always moving his body back before the next punch landed.

She frowned, but stopped punching. “See, this is why I like you. I don’t feel bad about hurting you because you say the most god-awful things. I feel like I have a duty to hurt you just for the horrible things that come out of your mouth.”

He adjusted his jacket and shrugged. “Luckily, I like being hurt.”

The door dinged and they stepped out of the elevator. She bit her bottom lip, then raised one eyebrow. “So you’re okay with what went down last night?”

“Yeah, totally.” He slipped an arm around her and gave her far shoulder a squeeze. “Did you have a good time?”

“Oh yeah.” She sighed and closed her eyes, counting the steps down the hallway to the door.

*thud* *thud* *thud*

The flogger smacked into his back, over and over. “Having trouble?” She shifted her weight back, putting more pressure on his lower legs which were trapped in the space behind her knees. “I thought I told you to crawl?”

He pushed forward with his elbows as his hard he could, but with her added weight only succeeded in dragging them a few inches further across the floor. The flogger thudded into him again until his straining muscles collapsed and he hit the ground with a sharp exhalation of breath. She started hitting him faster.

“I’m definitely sure I told you to crawl. You get beaten more if you’re not even trying to crawl.”

His brain got soft and hazy as his muscles burned and protested. He shoved his body off the floor again and dragged it another few inches. He could feel the heat and friction scraping at the skin, wearing it off.

She slowed down, letting the blows fall more slowly as he pushed against their combined weight. She could feel him under her, feel his back pressing against her cunt, felt his need to crawl across the floor for her, even when his body tried to refuse. He collapsed and she started hitting him harder and faster, driving him across the floor.

His body flattened out on the floor and she could hear his hard, gasping breaths. Finally, he pushed himself up and dragged them a few more inches. She slowed down her strokes but inevitably he collapsed again.

She hit him harder and faster again. “Come on son, you’re never gonna make it to my bed that way!”

She lurched as he suddenly shoved his body forward, then shoved again and again, blinking sweat out of his eyes, forcing his body across the floor in a series of rapid jerks, dragging her along. Her body bounced with the frantic jerking motion, and she felt herself getting warm and fuzzy as he collapsed at the edge of the bed.

“Not bad, but I think you need a little more practice.” He groaned and lay perfectly flat as she grinned and stood up. “And motivation.” He felt the cool, wet sensation of lube being spread on his ass, then the tip of a buttplug violating him. He whimpered and she slowed, twisting the plug, pulling it out and pushing it in a little further each time.

She pushed a little faster than was comfortable, enjoying his yips and whimpers. His ass cheeks clenched and relaxed as he fought the instinctive reactions of his muscles until the widest part of the plug was inside him and his asshole was clamping down on the narrower neck of the plug. “Come on.”

She grabbed him by his hair, and dragged him across the room to his started point in the doorway. She settled back down on her knees, clamping his lower legs between her own legs, and sighed happily. She ground her palm into the butt plug once, pushing it firmly against his skin, then picked up the flogger.


He dragged himself across the room again. Then back across with nipple clamps attached, pushing into his body every time his chest hit the floor, then with an O-gag in his mouth, prying his lips open and leaving a trail of spit that he pulled himself through. Finally, when the muscles in his arms were spasming and he couldn’t move another inch, she picked him up and threw him on the bed.

His body was spent and helpless, except for his cock. She had ridden him, enjoying the feeling of control, knowing she could do anything and he was helpless. His arms were useless, weakened appendages he could barely control. They fucked until they were both exhausted, then collapsed into an exhausted, satiated sleep.

She opened her eyes just as they got to the door, and saw him smiling at her.

She smiled back. “This could really get of hand.”

He opened the door for her. “God I hope so.”

Preview: “Today’s science lesson: magnets!”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

The Smile

The rope cut into his neck, choking off his breath every time he tried to move away from her. His knees burned from where the carpet ground into them and sweat poured down his face, soaking into the blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

He didn’t know exactly where the next hit would land. She circled him, pulling on the rope to keep him upright, using it to twist his body into position and hurt him wherever she wanted. It was the thin, flexible rod that left the intense, awful stinging sensation and bright lines across his body that ached more after the impact.

Those bright lines criss-crossed his body, tracing sore muscles and broken skin. The tops of his shoulders were layered heavily, and the space between his shoulder blades. His chest had a series of short, sharp lines where she had only hit him with the tip. The front and backs of his legs were a fractal image of broken shapes made by the rod slapping against his skin.

Clothespins littered the floor around them, the small red marks still visible on his skin. She had put them on delicately, one at a time, placing them carefully as the small jaws pinched and crushed the meat of his body. Then she had savagely ripped them off.

His arms were trapped behind his back, rope biting into his skin, chafing and irritating. It immobilized his arms, kept him from defending himself, and gave him something to push against. The muscles in his shoulders strained when his brain screamed at his body to do something, anything, to deal with the pain.

The plug in his ass was fully inflated. It pushed against him from the inside, the hose and bulb dangling outside of him and snaking across the floor like a tether. She would push lightly on it with her foot as she passed by, the hiss of escaping air and slight movement not letting him forget it was lodged in his ass.

His thighs trembled, the Ben Gay on his groin a throbbing sledgehammer. She had rubbed it carefully on his left ball, then grinning, fondled his right ball. The mix of pleasure and pain had sent him into gasping sobs, but now the pleasure was gone and there was only pain. He sobbed and prayed he wouldn’t vomit, and wondered when it would end.

She never told him, but she was waiting for the smile. That was when it would end. The dopamine and endorphin induced grin he got when he finally let go of everything and the pain turned into euphoria. That was what would get her off. That was when she would stop.

And not before.

Preview: It’s our next needley installment of the Choose Your Own Adventure… erm, adventure! It looks like Navaux’s cock has a date with the needle, but might there not be more? Check back Friday and find out.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.