(Written by Bob Davies; edited/revised by Dion Lorah)
I can feel your breath on the back of my legs and across my cheeks as you lean in closely to inspect me. My whole body shakes as you run your hands up the inside of my legs and around my smoothly shaved scrotum and perineum.
You’re gentle at first and I’m moaning with your touch. Without warning your hand squeezes both testicles, causing me to cry out and clench down on the ball gag. I squirm trying to get away but am held in place. My bondage is becoming more threatening. Lost in the anticipation and sudden rush of pain I had forgotten about the other length of lassoed rope I’d left on the bed. Your fingertips grab the skin of my scrotum and tug downwards. I was reminded of the forgotten rope as you slide it over my testicles and pull the lasso tight, pinching my scrotum, and stretching my testicles from the base of my shaft. You wrap the rope around several more times turning my scrotum into a tight little pouch. I’m merely minutes into receiving your torture and am moaning and groaning from the pleasurable agony.
You tie the rope off to the horizontal bar joining the back legs of the chair. I’m in more danger of inflicting significant pain anytime I move. I strain to listen as you move away from me. I hear you emptying the contents of your bag onto the bed. I can only imagine the array of toys you have brought to play with. The TV goes on. The volume goes up as an indication of you attempting to drown out the sounds I’m sure to make. I grit my teeth down on the gag. My fingers grip the front of the seat as I try to steady myself. Try to prepare.
Suddenly I feel the cool surface of your leather paddle press against the cheeks of my arse. I know the sting of the paddle. I know this is not going to be easy for me. You hold the paddle against me letting me digest what is about to come. Letting me prepare. How can you really prepare for what is about to happen?
You lift the paddle away and then flick it back against me. The impact is gentle a precursor to what is to come. Many more times the paddle hits me from the where my buttocks meet my back over my rounded upturned cheeks and down to the back of my thighs. As you work down and back up again you increase the strength of your blows. The slow build up is frustrating in delaying the inevitable but at least warming me up will reduce the bruising to come.
Eventually the time comes. There is a slight discernible pause and then the inevitable heavy blow comes. Across both cheeks fire explodes and it takes all my self-control not to topple the chair over. I avoid screaming by clenching down onto the gag. The pain across my arse almost equals the pain in my scrotum as I buck under the blow. There is no time to recover as you land a blow across my left thigh and then immediately my right. I struggle to remain still for fear of doing severe damage to my scrotum.
Many more blows land horizontally across both cheeks and I find myself holding my breath riding through the pain. There is the briefest of pauses before you land a series of six or seven vertical blows to each cheek. To be honest I have lost track in the haze of pain as I concentrate on not screaming the building down. I hear what I think is a slight giggle and your hand pats the burning red globe of my left cheek. There’s a small thud and I hope this is the sound of the paddle hitting the bed. I breath heavily through my nose. A shiver runs through my body as your fingers dance across my cheek and down to the tight painful sack holding my testicles. Your finger nails scrape across the taut leathery surface. Mercifully you don’t squeeze them but then your nails dig into my skin; you’re rewarded with a cry from me as my nerves send messages racing to my already overloaded brain.
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