Christmas spanking story
As we ate a light Christmas day lunch, Mark did ask for one other gift. He asked if he could have a Christmas spanking, the kind where I warm him up slowly and take him to LaLa Land. I told him to undress and then go to the toy drawer and pick out two instruments of torture he would like me to use. While he was agonizing over his choices, I brought a straight-backed armless chair into our room and put it by the bay window just to the side of our bed. He finally brought back the small square paddle that has smooth black leather on one side and a fur-like covering on the other. he then handed me the heavy strap, 14 inches long by 4 inches wide and attached to a wooden handle. It is a wicked, painful device that Mark mostly doesn’t like. I was a little surprised he selected it.
I sat on the chair and pulled my naked slave-boy over my lap so that his head and shoulders reached the side of the mattress. I started with my hand, carefully spreading the red hand marks evenly over his ass
cheeks and then the backs of his thighs. I stopped often and fingered his ass, testing his reaction to the spanking. The hand spanking increased in intensity until my hand began to hurt. Regardless I kept at it for a while. When his wiggling slowed a bit I switched to the small paddle. Her wiggling immediately increased back
to sadist-pleasing levels while my hand stopped stinging. Mark jumped even more when I hit the backs of his thighs with the hard leather. I confess I like it when it’s hard for him to take. I worked him over for about 10 more minutes, spreading the effect around until once
again he began to go quiet on me.
I knew he was getting close to getting loopy so I changed to the big strap. I again started lightly but soon was popping him pretty good. I moved him from my lap to face down on the bed so I could have more room to swing the strap and hit my intended target. At this point it was “let the whipping REALLY begin!”. The percussion of the strap smacking his ass literally rang in my ears and his whimpers and moans were a sweet melody.
Checking in with him I said, “Merry Christmas, slave-boy. Is there anything else you would like?”
I knew he was gone when he said, “I would like more, Sir.”
I went back to work on him, harder than ever and marveled at how much he could take and how much he was ‘into’ it. Each time the thick leather strap struck his butt he lifted it to meet the leather. I then began to strap his thighs and he didn’t even cry out. This was
the ultimate test of how deep he he’d gone into sub-space. He was light-years away. Finally, exhausted and satisfied with my handiwork, I stopped the blows and just watched him shuddering and sighing on the bed covers.
I undressed and joined him. In the afterglow of his Christmas spanking we made sweet and gentle love.
I love this boy as I’ve not ever loved. I know, I know, he is supposed to be a slave, a piece of property contractually owned and nowhere in a slave contract is love required. The Master/slave purists would shake their heads at me, I know. And yet the love is there and without it I couldn’t do what I do. I love him not because
I own him, but rather I own him because I love him. Without it, without the love, I would be only a man who gives pain to and has kinky sex with a boy whom allows me to do such things when he isn’t otherwise serving in more mundane ways. For me anyway it is
better that my slave is also the love of my life.
********
Happy New Year, everyone.
Rand