The Diary Of A Submissive: A True Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

in a regular rhythm until my heart was practically beating in time with his tempo, my body responding to the beats of him beating me. He varied where the brush landed until the whole of my arse cheek was warm and I was squirming across his lap in an incoherent bundle of nerve endings. In that moment my world was him and me, the stinging warmth of my arse, the wetness between my legs and the feeling of his cock hard against my thigh as I squirmed against him. If he’d asked me what I wanted him to do, if I was capable of forming words, I’d have been begging him to stop as the pain was on the edge of being too much. But at the same time the warmth between my legs meant I knew with utter certainty that if he had stopped within a few seconds I’d have been bereft and pleading for him to continue. I didn’t actually get the choice, which to be honest is just as well as by that point there was no way in hell I was capable of speech anyway.
    He switched cheeks, and the process began again. But as I tried to temper my reaction to the pain, I felt a fingerslide between my legs, and easily – so easily that I was glad I was facing away so he couldn’t see the sudden blush on my face – he pushed inside me.
    By this time I was practically writhing on his lap, my breathing heavy, tears behind my closed eyes. He didn’t hold back on hitting my arse with the brush, and as I turned to look up at him, I saw the flush of exertion and excitement on his cheeks, and an expression that made me whimper. He looked so sexy. The look in his eyes, the way he held his head, had changed from the Ryan I had previously known. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was power. Control. He made me feel warm and cold and excited and nervous and like the whole world was being turned upside down and all I could do was hold on for the ride and trust him to lead me through it.
    As our eyes met it was like a spell was broken. We were both more than ready to fuck, and while he wasn’t going to leave a job half done the last three smacks with the brush were at least quick, albeit hard enough that I gasped at the pain. My mind was spinning as I couldn’t breathe enough in between hits to in any way prepare for them. I rode the waves of pain as best I could and was still gasping as he manoeuvred me on to all fours ready for –
please please please
– us to fuck.
    He filled me and I moaned in relief. But relief turned to confusion when it became apparent that it wasn’t his cock filling me. I turned round, eyes blinking and trying to focus, to see him smiling at me again and holding the brush from the wrong end so he could show me my juices glistening on the handle. He tucked a strandof hair behind his ear as his dimple flashed again, a glimpse of playful Ryan. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist.’
    I harrumphed and opened my mouth to try and formulate a response, only to be stopped when he pushed himself deep inside me. As we fucked, me grinding down on him as feverishly as he pushed himself up into my wetness, the pain from the already forming bruising of my arse, the stinging heat of it, was a harsh reminder of the punishment.
    He leant forward, frigging my clit as our movements got more frenzied and desperate, both of us close to coming. Just at the point where I felt like I couldn’t go any harder, or take any other stimulus, he ran the brush, metal bristles side down, along the full length of my still-throbbing arse. It was like running needles across my flesh. I couldn’t help it, I screamed. If I could I would have begged him to stop, purely because the sheer force of feeling was so much I thought I was going to shatter. But as fast as my brain shorted out, saying I couldn’t cope with this and it was all too much, my orgasm came and with it the flood of warmth that makes me want to curl up and rest for ten minutes before doing it all over again because it feels so amazing.
    We lay there, tangled in the sheets, the sweat from our exertions drying as