“Few Tears Mean Nothing” pt. 2
I reached for the riding crop, a toy I had bought just for that occasion. The new leather felt so good in my hands. I ran it over Eli’s back gently, teasing him, letting him feel the smooth leather. I trailed it across his back several times before raising it back, behind my arms, making him wait, flinch and tense in anticipation of the sting. And then I began his whipping.
It wasn’t until number 10 or so when I really started to increase the intensity of how hard the riding crop came down on his tan, strong body that he even whimpered at all.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” I asked.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
I smiled, setting the riding crop down on the table and picking up the paddle. It was one I’d had for years, given to me by the dom I learned most things I knew about the finer points of Mistress-ing from. It was black with gold trim. I’d used it on Eli a couple of times before — and I knew he liked it.
I looked at the red streaks that now covered his back and ass. This was going to be a beautiful mosaic of red and pink and stinging when I was finished.
“Are you ready for your next gift from your Mistress now?”
“Yes, Mistress. Please, please Mistress.”
“Do you really deserve what I do for you?” I smiled, my favorite question to ask a sub, especially Eli.
“No, Mistress. I do not deserve the gifts you give me. You are too good to me Mi — ”
I struck him with the paddle on his left ass cheek before he could finish. I loved interrupting him mid-sentence after a question I had just asked him.
Without me needing to tell him, he got on all fours, raising his ass in the air for me.
I lifted the paddle behind my head, relishing the first blow from the paddle from its slow beginning to the fast, sharp stinging crack that sounded as the large paddle made contact with his already red right ass cheek.
Now he whimpered after the third strike. I started laughing as I hit him, something I liked and I knew he liked because as he had told me once in our post-session pillow talk, it made him think I “might actually kill him.”
After about 40 hard smacks with the paddle, I set it back down on the chest, now covered in the dust that had risen as I beat him all over his handsome, strong back and now bruised ass. I walked in front of him as more dust settled around us to see his face. He was crying. Long streaks from tears covered his beautiful face. I had seen him cry a little before, but this was much more than any of our other sessions. I asked him if he was okay — and his answer is one I will never forget, possibly the best answer a sub has given me to any question during any session ever:
“Few tears mean nothing.”
