She

She is behind him. Above him.

He can feel her hands on his lower back. They are warm, but he shivers anyway.

He tries to contain his movement. He wants so badly to please her.

There are clamps on the fleshy bit where his scrotum meets his body. They hurt. They are relentless. No matter how hard he tries to ignore the pain, it is always waiting in the wings for him to lower his guard.

That's why he likes the hand. The hand feels so good.

He's tired. She's been doing this for a long time. His arms and knees ache. He trembles a little from his growing exhaustion. The clamps hurt so much.

That's why he likes her hand. The soft, commanding touch that turns his mind away from his hardships. His thoughts lean into that touch as the hand traces down his back. His nerves, drink up the sensation. It fills his mind, even though he knows that's a bad idea. He knows he should resist, because as soon as she can feel his senses open completely...

Crack! She spanks him. It's a hard blow, one that no doubt purples his already reddened skin. And the second that pain leaves, the clamps are in his mind, mocking him, breaking him. He doesn't feel the strength to fight them much longer.

He wants so badly to please her. He loves her so much.

He begins to whimper from the pain.

She coos to him and resumes stroking his bottom. He must have taken thirty such blows by now, and his ass must have been marked, even with only her bare hand. She hits very hard.

He can't see any of this. He is always to look straight ahead. He learned that the hard way. The marks he received in the process weren't made with her hand, and took two weeks to fully disappear. On his hands and knees, he looks ahead unless she says otherwise. "I'm giving you the gift of my touch," she said when teaching him, "you should be happy with that alone." She struck him with a cane between each every word.

So he can't see her now. He can't see her eyes. He can't see her face. He uses her eyes like a lighthouse to guide him through a perilous darkness. Her look of pleasure is his magnetic north.

The pain from the clamps is winning. He feels like he’s going to cry. Worse, they have been on for a very long time. He knows that they long ago starved the relevant nerves of blood, numbing them out. He knows when the clamps come off, and the nerves wake up, that the pain he feels then will be far worse. The idea conjures such real terror, that he bites his tongue to hold in his safeword.

He crams his mind into the inch of his flesh under her fingertip.

One hand becomes two. One on his lower back, and one gently brushing the head of his cock.

The hands feel good, so good.

He wants so badly to please her.

And then the hand on his back is gone, and he feels the rush of air as she makes her backswing.

He flinches, trembling with fear.

But the blow never comes.

And then her face comes into view. She is smiling. His heart swells.

"How are we doing, little boy?"

He whimpers, just managing to hold back an open cry. "It hurts Mistress."

"You're doing very well, you're making me so proud, so happy..." She places a finger under his chin, lifting him to his knees. As his hands come free, she catches one and feeds it into her panties. He can feel the dampness within. His cock twitches as she finishes her thought "... So wet."

He takes a deep sharp breath as his lust fills him.

"So, can we keep going?"

He wants very badly to stop. He feels so weak. He hurts, and he wants to stop hurting. But she's smiling. He loves her smile.

"Yes, Mistress, if it pleases you."

Her smile, her eyes, they turn sinister, covetous, malevolent. She whispers in his ear, her hand sliding under his belly to touch his cock. "Good, because I don't want to stop until there's nothing left of you."

Without warning, she yanks off the clamps.

The agony is like a bomb going off in his head. He seizes up, going tense, and then as limp as a rag doll. He collapses to the floor. He shudders in pain, and tears begin to roll down his face.

"I love you, Mistress,” comes his plea for mercy.

She merely smiles, stroking him as his spasms subside.

"There there, little boy. Catch your breath so we can start again."

She looks down at the broken boy below her, searching out the next tender spot for her clamps.