Hurt me

'Hurt me?' he whispers, and his voice is high, breathy and soft in that tone which means that he wants it. 

I am glad to oblige. I have felt insecure with him, recently. More so than usual, that is. There is something about this boy that affects me, makes me fear the power he has over me. Something about him that makes me misstep, misinterpret, mistake.

Something about him that makes me hesitate. 

But not now. 

Not with that tone to his voice, not with that softness to his eyes.

That's what I look for in a horse, you know. A certain softness to the eye, that shows a willingness, a desire to please. 

I see that now in his eyes, and just as it attracts me to a mount, it makes me ache for him. 

I bring my hand down on his bottom, sharply, and he makes a small sound of pleasure-pain. His little ass is perfectly shaped, perfectly formed for my hand. A perfect heart shape, a perfect texture for spanking, biting. 

That beautiful little ass wriggles across my lap, and I can only laugh at his shameless antics... even as my hand comes down again, again, again. Directly across each cheek, just under, a little to each side, finding one spot over and over... varying my blows, stopping to rub and massage, leaning down to bite. 

But my hands are soft now, uncalloused, and grow red and sore quickly, so I switch to toys. The rubber loop paddle, the evil stick. My teeth in his back, his shoulder. He is so beautiful when he writhes for me, groans, yells.

The redness growing along his ass, his thighs.

Light, stinging blows. Hard, heavy ones. 

Holding my hand still. 'Relax for me,' the warning before the evil stick applied to his inner thighs. 

He'll get me back... he always does the next time we switch... but right now I don't care. I just want to hurt him. Want to give him what we both want, what we both need. 

His blood is close to the surface now: his pretty little hips, and long, graceful thighs are red with blood flow and blows, and I want to take my knife to him, want to cut his soft skin open and lay my mouth to the wound, drink his life into me. 

Soon, I will. Soon. But not tonight. Not yet. 

When the crimson droplets bead up along his skin, run in slow waves across skin and the scent rises up coppery, sharp, and sweet, it will be done right. Done with the time to savor his skin, the edges of the cut, the flavor of his blood like fine wine. Done with care, rolling the flavor around my mouth and across my lips. Kissing him with the taste of his blood on my mouth. 

Not tonight, not yet. 

Instead, I drag his mouth to my cock before fucking his beautiful little ass.