Me again with a spanking prompt. They call to me, lol. ***
Christian’s on his knees on the bed, his ass raised by a body pillow, his hands cuffed together and secured to the sturdy headboard with rope, his legs hampered by the spreader bar between his thighs.
Christian’s not going anywhere, but that doesn’t stop him from fighting the restraints. He’s not testing them, not testing Steve, he’s really trying to get loose, really letting loose himself.
Steve watches as Christian yanks hard on his wrists, bucks and writhes, tries to get his knees more under him for leverage and growls in frustration. But Steve isn’t just a passive observer. Steve started with his hand, a few hits just to watch the pink tinge rise up on creamy skin. But Steve’s favorite is a wooden spoon. He supposes it says something about him, something about his love of cooking and his love of Christian, something about being both punishment and comfort.
That’s what this is. Steve whacks Christian’s ass with the spoon until its cherry red, until Steve knows that Christian’s going to have a hard time sitting down this week. ‘Course that’s why Steve only chooses the spoon from amongst their toys when Christian has a little time off.
Steve spanks him until Christian stops jerking and writhing, stops fighting against everything and himself. In the silence then, Steve can better hear what Christian’s saying in a hoarse, wrecked voice. “Don’t…Stop, please, Steve, no, don’t…”
But still Steve doesn’t hear the word that makes it all stop. Christian doesn’t want to be an obedient sub, doesn’t *need* that. Christian needs to fight, needs to rage, needs to hurt and be forced, forced to let go, forced to surrender. And Christian needs to know all the while that Steve won’t be scared away, that Steve will be there to comfort him when he finally breaks.
Christian shies away when Steve begins to prepare him, whimpering out, “No, please don’t…” until Steve’s fingers are brushing his prostate and Christian’s whimpers turn into a sharp cry. Steve leans his weight on one forearm across Christian’s upper back as he presses insistently inside. He knows that every thrust is shoving his hipbones into the bruised flesh of Christian’s ass, but he also can feel Christian’s hard length in his other hand as he strokes it in rhythm.
Defeated now, willing and wanton, Christian presses back into the brutal thrusts, still making little mewling noises that sound as much from pain as pleasure. Steve makes sure that Christian comes first, makes sure that he fucks Christian through it before Steve himself is filling the condom.
Gently, Steve removed his restraining arm from Christian’s back and kisses Christian’s temple before gripping the condom and pulling out. Christian lies still, exhausted and overcome. But Steve can’t rest because this part of the scene is just as important as the spanking.
***
Christian’s on his knees on the bed, his ass raised by a body pillow, his hands cuffed together and secured to the sturdy headboard with rope, his legs hampered by the spreader bar between his thighs.
Christian’s not going anywhere, but that doesn’t stop him from fighting the restraints. He’s not testing them, not testing Steve, he’s really trying to get loose, really letting loose himself.
Steve watches as Christian yanks hard on his wrists, bucks and writhes, tries to get his knees more under him for leverage and growls in frustration. But Steve isn’t just a passive observer. Steve started with his hand, a few hits just to watch the pink tinge rise up on creamy skin. But Steve’s favorite is a wooden spoon. He supposes it says something about him, something about his love of cooking and his love of Christian, something about being both punishment and comfort.
That’s what this is. Steve whacks Christian’s ass with the spoon until its cherry red, until Steve knows that Christian’s going to have a hard time sitting down this week. ‘Course that’s why Steve only chooses the spoon from amongst their toys when Christian has a little time off.
Steve spanks him until Christian stops jerking and writhing, stops fighting against everything and himself. In the silence then, Steve can better hear what Christian’s saying in a hoarse, wrecked voice. “Don’t…Stop, please, Steve, no, don’t…”
But still Steve doesn’t hear the word that makes it all stop. Christian doesn’t want to be an obedient sub, doesn’t *need* that. Christian needs to fight, needs to rage, needs to hurt and be forced, forced to let go, forced to surrender. And Christian needs to know all the while that Steve won’t be scared away, that Steve will be there to comfort him when he finally breaks.
Christian shies away when Steve begins to prepare him, whimpering out, “No, please don’t…” until Steve’s fingers are brushing his prostate and Christian’s whimpers turn into a sharp cry. Steve leans his weight on one forearm across Christian’s upper back as he presses insistently inside. He knows that every thrust is shoving his hipbones into the bruised flesh of Christian’s ass, but he also can feel Christian’s hard length in his other hand as he strokes it in rhythm.
Defeated now, willing and wanton, Christian presses back into the brutal thrusts, still making little mewling noises that sound as much from pain as pleasure. Steve makes sure that Christian comes first, makes sure that he fucks Christian through it before Steve himself is filling the condom.
Gently, Steve removed his restraining arm from Christian’s back and kisses Christian’s temple before gripping the condom and pulling out. Christian lies still, exhausted and overcome. But Steve can’t rest because this part of the scene is just as important as the spanking.
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