I wasn't in the mood...

Sex is few and far between right now; he’s picked up a ton of temping jobs, which is great in that he’s actually making more than he was full time but the hours are crazy. He just worked 30 hours Fri/Sat/Sun – for awesome pay, $35 an hour, but in a different state. Okay, that state is only an hour away, but still. But the time he gets home he’s wiped. We have dinner, put the baby to bed – if we have any kind of intimacy, it’s him wandering out just long enough to come in my mouth and then go to sleep.

And while casual use like that pushes some more general buttons of mine – he’ll stop me in whatever I’m doing, grab me by my hair, force me down onto my knees and push me onto his cock – it certainly hasn’t been doing anything for my sex drive. Masturbation just isn’t the same and I’ve been literally feeling like I’ve wanted to climb the walls, frustrated with life and stressed and horny as hell.

Usually. But tomorrow he has a slightly later start time for the job he’s at, so he stayed up a little later. After he put my collar on, he told me to go lie down, face down.

 “Are you going to rub me?” I asked hopefully. I was horny but stressed and upset, and not in the mood for pain. At all. A backrub…or elsewhere rub...sounded pretty good though, just attention from him…

“I…am not going to answer that,” he told me. Not a hopeful sign.

“I’m not up to play tonight…I’m too upset.”

“Go lie down.”

And I did, grumbling. I wasn’t up to what I thought he was planning, and my assumption was proven correct when he came out with the otk delrin cane.

“I want marks on you – I want bruises,” he told me, threatening.

“I can’t do this love, I’m too upset –“ I protested, but a mean thwack of the cane had me yelping. Fuck, that hurts!

“I want marks,” he repeated.

“You’re not listening to me!” I cried, panicked. That had hurt…and I so could not deal with pain.

“I’m listening. Why can’t you deal with it?” Thwack!

“Ahh! Ouch! I’m too upset…my head’s not in the right place.” The cane is the worst kind of pain for me, so cutting and severe that I can’t take it silently most of the time.

“I want marks.” Whap!

“Ow! You couldn’t want marks when I’m turned on?!” I was panicked, it was really hurting and in the best of situations I have no tolerance for it. I didn’t want to fight him on this but I was frightened…I just…I couldn’t do it. Not then. The day before I would have swooned for a beating but tonight I wasn’t there.

He took his cock out, and he was completely hard, super turned on by our exchange. He grabbed me by the hair and I begged for – and won – my only concession of no hair pulling…I still really wanted gentleness and was trying hard not to fight what he wanted. Holding my head gently instead, he forced his cock past my lips, letting me lick and suck for a moment before pulling out.

“Nope. I want them when I’m awake,” he told me, and climbed on top of me, grabbing my hair and squeezing me. “You’re mine. Your body is mine, for –my- amusement. Deal with it.” Pulling my ass apart, he started forcing his way into my anus…the pain was incredible, because I really wasn’t in a space to deal with it and had a hard time accommodating him inside me. I cried out as he fucked me, almost grateful when he pulled out…and saw his shadow on the wall, raising the cane.

Thwack. Whap.

And suddenly, my headspace just…transformed. It still hurt like hell. I hate the cane. But suddenly, I wanted the marks he wanted. As the cane whistled through the air, to finally fall hard on my ass and upper thighs, I wasn’t flinching and I wasn’t crying out. I was raising my hips upwards to meet the cane, wanting to feel it…wanting the pain, wanting the welts and the bruising. This was the hardest caning I’d ever had and I could immediately tell why I hadn’t bruised (or bruised much) previous times – as much as they’d hurt before this was much, much harder.

He’d grope my butt in between hits sometimes, squeezing and making me wince.

“Here comes a good one,” he warned.

“The other ones weren’t good?” I wasn’t be a smart ass – I was feeling…raw. Dreamy.

“Nope. This one will be really hard.” I gasped when it fell, clutched the pillow I was laying on but I felt…hazy. I wanted more.

I have no idea how many strokes of the cane fell. He didn’t make me count, and I’m grateful – the numbers would probably have scared me.

But without a doubt, it was the longest, most intense caning he’d ever given me. When he went back between my legs to force himself inside my ass again, he told me my butt was one big welt…I felt the hard swellings that would be bruises and the soft welts that would fade by the next day. As he fucked me, forcing himself in and out of my asshole, I felt him slamming against me, the soreness of his groin grinding into my ass just…indescribable.

If I had thought the caning would be over when he came, I was wrong. After he pulled out, he grabbed the cane and in an almost dreamy way I watched his shadow on the wall as the cane fell several more times…and when it was over, I asked for more.

I can’t really explain why, sitting here now, but I did. I asked for, and got, several more cane strokes. And then I offered my breasts, which are now sporting 5 bright red weals. (3 on my left breast, 2 on my right. Assymetry!)

And later, after we’d cleaned up and he’d poured a shot of scotch for himself, I lay on the couch next to him and offered my thighs. Ignoring my left (a bad angle, he said), ten strokes that felt much too hard fell on my poor soft right thigh, which is now sporting some stripy bruises.

The bruises on my butt are just starting to be visible. I can feel them as I walk…and I will feel them tomorrow, and remember his words.