How did you know?

When he beats me it makes me want to suck his cock.

Last Sunday we went out to Fem Sub Club. It was a lovely afternoon spent with friends that included tea, cake and a damn good beating. They have my favourite spanking bench which is basically like a padded curved bed which you lay over and it raises your bottom up. He used a variety of implements on me starting with the bircher, then the single tail which makes the most amazing cracking noise, followed by two different poly-carbonate canes. At one point he was using them both simultaneously a bit like drum sticks across my both my bum cheeks. Then it was the turn of the metal rod which is so thuddy it jars right through my body which always seems to make me very wet. Eventually he cast aside all the  evil tools and just used his hands. By then I was floating happily on a sea of endorphins and my arse felt hot and throbbing and raw and tingly and so damn good.

I love it when he gets me there. At first everything just hurts so bad and I my body fights it. I twist and turn beneath his weapons of choice, moaning about how hard it is, how much it hurts, protesting about it all. “Why does it have to hurt so much” I ask and he always says he is not really doing that hard and I need to relax and focus and that if I want the marks I have to be good. And I know he is right and yet my body ignores all that and screams PAIN at me. But he knows to carry on, he knows to ignore my whinging and encourages me to power through. He tells me to breathe, he strokes my back and hair, he pauses now and then and runs his finger tips over my scolding skin. He changes up the implements, stingy to thuddy and back again and gradually the my body stops fighting quite so hard as my bodies chemicals kick in and mask the pain. Eventually I am lost into it and it and sometimes I end up laughing or even crying not because it hurts because there is this rush of heady feelings that overwhelm.

He is packing up the bag and I am laying there on the bench.

“Will you make me bleed?” I whisper

“Now? If I do that now there will no more play later”

I consider his words for a moment

“Yes please Sir. Now”

He pauses and I know he is pondering whether to let me have what I want or not.

He uses the garden rake. Trailing it over my hot bruised skin and then lifting it up and hitting me with it. I can feel that and I cry out but he hushes me and places a hand in the small of my back to hold me in place. Just when I think I can take it no more he stops and pulls one of my hands round to my bottom.

When I see the blood on my fingers I can feel a rush of heat and liquid between my thighs. I want so many things in this moment. I want his cock in my mouth. I want to masturbate with my bloody fingers. I want him to fuck me from behind so he can see what he has done to me and what I have taken for him.

It is not the time or place though. We could go and find a private room but we decide against it. We are both hungry and thirsty. We do nip out to the hallway and take a picture though.

Later that night when we get in the car I tell him how much I enjoyed it, that my bottom is still hot and sore but that there was one thing missing

“You didn’t get to suck my cock” he says

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Because you always want to suck my cock when I beat you. In fact what you really want is to suck me while I beat you”

And he is right. I do.

The next morning we have the house to ourselves. I kneel beside him in the bed, my bottom turned towards his head and suck him off while he digs his fingers into the tender bruised spots that he lovingly inflicted the day before and comes in my mouth with a glorious growl.