December 9, 2013

The List 16: Its Back is for Being Beaten

Posted in stories tagged , , , , at 4:01 am by littlesubmissions

Click here to start with Part 1

Previously: “Stay right like that, because I’m going to start on your back now.”

He groaned and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have put down so many body parts for being beaten.”

She laughed and rummaged through the top drawer of the dresser. “Aw, aren’t you having fun?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would go through the whole list at once.” He shifted his weight from knee to knee to try to relieve the pain, the skin and think flesh under it still aching from earlier.

She pulled a leather belt out of the drawer, and slid her hands over it. “I try to be unpredictable, Cosmo says it keeps your man interested.”

He snorted. “Cosmo thinks relationships are Stockholm Syndrome with occasional oral sex.”

“Aren’t they?” She grinned and licked her lips, doubling the belt over in one hand.

He frowned, and then shrugged as best he could on all fours. “Fair enough.”

She turned around and brought the belt down across his shoulders, purring at the wet sound of leather smacking skin. “Time to torture the hostage.” She hit him again and giggled.

His teeth ground together at the arm pain radiating across his shoulders, and he flexed his arms, trying to let his body move a little with the blows. The belt hit him again, and again, and again. His body started to sink until he shoved his arms straight and held himself back up.

The sound of leather hitting skin echoed in her ears, and she licked her lips at as the skin on his back turned to mottled red. She fell into a rhythm, hitting him at a deliberate, steady pace, watching as he twitched and his body tried to move while his mind tried to make it stay still.

The thudding continued and filled the room until she paused and walked around to the other side of his body. “The marks were getting uneven. I hate it when you’re not symmetrical.” He didn’t comment, just took the brief respite to take a couple of deep breaths, and brace himself before the beating resumed.

The beating resumed, and she felt her passion building again, the deep burning inside of her body getting hotter. He felt his thoughts getting fuzzier, endorphins flooding his brain, his body melting away with the hot pain and force radiating down through his chest.

The belt slapped into one side of his body, then the other. She watched his skin turn from pale white to pink to crimson, listened to his breathing grow more and more ragged. She watched his eyes as she moved from side to side, catching the end of the fluttering eyelids and the wide pupils as she walked around him.

His thoughts got hazier and hazier, just a series of warming pain and the sensation of floating, the occasional sight of her walking in front of him a reminder that quickly faded of what was happening. The pain in his knees and the palms of his hands faded away, then the pain in his back, and finally all his thoughts were gone.

“Stand up.” He felt her hand pulling on his hair and his limbs responding, slowly forcing him upright. He swallowed hard and frowned at the bright spots appearing around the room, and his stomach started to twist and roll. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. “Uh, I think…”

He opened them to see her leaning over him, watching him carefully. “Hey…” He smiled, happy to see her, and noticed he was lying on his back on the floor. “Hi.” His brain tried to puzzle together what happened, and he blinked as she grabbed the pillows from the bed and propped his feet up.

One side of her mouth grinned down at him as she put a hand on his chest. “Don’t try to get up. Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and kept blinking. “Did I pass out?”

She nodded back. “For about three seconds, yeah. You probably stood up too fast.”

“Huh.” He had a strange urge to giggle, and shut his eyes to block out the too bright light of the ceiling fan. “I’ve never passed out before.”

“I wouldn’t make a habit of it, if I were you. I caught you, but it was kind of a surprise. Stay here, don’t get up, I’ll be right back.”

He casually took note of the sensation of his body, noting the carpet on his back, the heat and pain still radiating from where the belt had hit him, and the assorted other aches and pains. He heard her coming back and opened his eyes to see her holding a glass and a small plate. She sat down beside him, and arranged the kitchenware to her side. “When you’re ready, you’ll need to drink and eat. Water and salty food should help.”

“Yeah, think I’m good.” He slowly pulled his feet down and sat up, picking up the glass and taking a long swallow of ice water. “Oooh, chips.” He grabbed the plate and threw a handful of chips in his mouth, crunching and chewing vigorously. He alternated with swallows of water, and worked through both quickly, licking the flavoring off his fingers when he was done.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” he stretched and grinned at her. “It was just kind of weird.”

She nodded, and took the plate and glass from him. “Like I said, you probably just stood up too quickly. Luckily, the next item on your list is pretty low impact. I’ll put these away, you take a breather, and then I’ll get your collar and the leash.”

He nodded and smiled at her, glad they weren’t stopping.

Preview: Necks are for wearing collars with leashes attached.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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November 8, 2013

The List 3: Hands and Knees are for Crawling

Posted in stories tagged , , , , , , , at 6:57 am by littlesubmissions

If you’re just starting, here’s part 1 of the story

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.