Customize Consent Preferences

We use cookies to help you navigate efficiently and perform certain functions. You will find detailed information about all cookies under each consent category below.

The cookies that are categorized as "Necessary" are stored on your browser as they are essential for enabling the basic functionalities of the site. ... 

Always Active

Necessary cookies are required to enable the basic features of this site, such as providing secure log-in or adjusting your consent preferences. These cookies do not store any personally identifiable data.

No cookies to display.

Functional cookies help perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collecting feedback, and other third-party features.

No cookies to display.

Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics such as the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.

No cookies to display.

Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.

No cookies to display.

Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with customized advertisements based on the pages you visited previously and to analyze the effectiveness of the ad campaigns.

No cookies to display.

Skip to content

Expressions of Pain

As the cane bites, she reaches reflexively back and digs her fingers into the soft flesh over her hip, tugging at it in a desperate, convulsive way. She lets go. She cries openly from the sixth cane stroke onwards. To keep from screaming she bites the blanket in which her face is buried. By the time we’re done it will be wet with a mixture of tears and spit, blacked with chaotic flecks of her eyeliner.

She apologises every time she screams. Reflexively. A verbal tic. I tell her it’s unnecessary, but she apologises all the same. “Sorry, sir.” She moves a hand to tug at her hip and then snatches it quickly back again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise for this,” I say.

“Sorry,” she says.

Once, after a particularly hard stroke, she contorts on the bed, arches her back. Her tear-streaked face upturned, a wad of blanket still in her mouth, reaching for her hip to dig and tug the skin there. For a moment she’s elsewhere. Transported by pain. And then, as it withdraws, she spits out the covers and moans an apology before resuming her position.

The moment remains fixed in my head. For a long time after the caning – after we’ve fucked and napped together and been for a walk together and parted company and arranged to meet again, I think about her in that moment of agony – the constellation of all her expressions of pain at once: the tears, her teeth fixed on the blanket, her fingers digging into the flesh of her hip. I try to think of a way to convey to her just how beautiful she is when she willingly suffers so acutely for me, but I can’t really think of the words.

MMM Mondays is a sex blogging sex writing meme

*

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, consider buying me a coffee to support the work I do...

Your support will allow me to keep on writing things like this!

Published inDirty StoriesVignettes

3 Comments

  1. […] Kristan X gave us a rare glimpse from a sadists point of view in Expressions of Pain. A beautifully told short story, where emotion highlights every […]

Leave a Reply