I'll start slowly…😈 Because he's all confident, chest puffed out, convinced he can handle my pleasure of leaving him breathless. First blow: just a light whistle, an almost affectionate little kiss. He even smiles slightly, the idiot. He thinks today will be "easy." Fatal mistake. On the tenth blow, I return the smile… and change everything. The rod starts dancing so fast the air catches fire. Each crack is always in the same place: right on top of what's already purple, swollen, throbbing. He screams. I laugh. He cries. I hit harder. His voice tears apart, becomes a hoarse whine of a wounded animal… and I accelerate again. Until his legs give way. Until his body collapses on the trestle like a broken rag doll. I continue, without stopping, without pity, just because I can, just because I love to see the man who entered here with his head held high leave dragging himself and soiled. And then, only then, do I stop. A second of absolute silence. I lean in, smell the fear, and whisper in his ear with the voice of a mother who just gave her milk: — There, my love… now you can thank me. And thank me properly, with a loud and clear voice, otherwise I'll start from scratch and this time even the devil will turn his face away. There is no safeword, there is no limit, there is no forgiveness. There is only one thing: absolute surrender. Next Friday I'll bring the thickest sticks… Try sleeping on your stomach… if you can sleep…🔥🩸🚀
