When he grazed the tender spot, it sent an incredible sensation of pleasure coursing through me.
Soothing. This part, in the wake of the pain from before, was incredibly soothing.
It was short-lived, though, because the sensation on my intact ass cheek disappeared. He drew one of his hands away from my ass and then smacked it, hard.
Smack.
I lurched forward, not expecting the impact.
Then he did it again, his palm open so the noise cracked the air like a whip.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
I couldn’t help my body’s jerking reaction. With the leather over his hands, it gave the slapping sensation a more luxurious feel than normal.
It was almost as if the pain was coated in something more extravagant, like velvet.
After the fifth smack, my Sir soothed the tender skin. He moved his hand in broad, swooping circles.
The sensation was more than soothing — it was deliciously validating.
“You’ve been such a good boy tonight,” my Sir growled.
I felt a unique type of pride at his words. Like I’d had only one job and that I’d done outstanding work exceeding his expectations.
I felt like I was on top of the world.
Then he moved his hands from the swooping circles around my ass, over my hips, and pulled my ass right up against his crotch.
I could feel the warm, hard cylinder of his hard cock pressing hard against his leather pants. He must have been going crazy with want.
His left hand stopped at my hip, using it to keep my ass pressed against him. But his right hand kept going until it wrapped around my three-fourthsie.
I heard him grunt, a primal sound that drifted up to my ears and triggered some instinct within me. A shudder passed through my body.
My Sir released me, reached over to the nightstand where I’d placed a bottle of lube — label facing neatly outward of course — and I heard the distinct pop of the bottle cap.
A small farting noise sounded as he squirted some into his hand, then I heard the swishing motion of him rubbing his hands together.
The sound of him exhaling with his mouth open floated to my ears, and I guessed he was blowing hot air on his hands to heat the liquid.
It filled me with joy that he thought about that, too — that the temporary cold sensation might alter the way I was feeling things.
It was just more proof that I could trust my Sir to take care of all of my needs.
Then, he resumed the position he had me in earlier, with my ass pressed against his crotch, his left hand on my hip, and his right hand was snaking underneath to wrap around my throbbing erection.
It only took a few slow, slick strokes before my erection was hard and tight.
He kept stroking me, slowly at first, but then picked up speed.
He slid his left hand over my other ass cheek, panting the tender spot with the lube.
Ever the sensationalist, my Sir alternated sweeping lube over the spot and blowing cold air at it, all while slowly jerking me off.
I felt like my brain and body were going to explode. Every nerve was on fire, and I felt like if it could, my hole would be gaping with greed.
It seemed like an eternity he was doing that to me, pushing my senses to their limits.
My body bucked against him, practically begging for his cock.
Finally, I heard the rip of velcro and knew he was taking off his pants.
There was a pause our rhythm, some fumbling as he squirted more lube onto his hands, and then I felt his fingers dabble around the entrance of my hole.
“Such a beautiful pink hole…” he said, almost with reverence in his voice. “You take care of it so nicely.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I uttered, the side of my face pressed against the soft sheets.
His fingers danced around my hole, teasing me, then he inserted one of his slick digits inside.
I drew in a harsh breath, but this was less painful than I was used to. Priming me with all of that sensation play prepared me for this.
He worked that around a bit, loosening me up.
His other hand was on my low back, massaging me.
“Relax,” he commanded.
“Yes, sir.”
I focused on controlling my breathing, letting his fingers tantalize my body.
Everything was perfect. Everything was exactly where it needed to be.
Through controlling my breathing, I relaxed even more, and he slid another finger inside.
I moaned but made sure to breathe through it.
“Good boy,” he said, almost in a hushed tone.
After loosening me with two for a while, he slid a third inside.
I bit my lip as I felt the divine sensation of him stretching me. I knew what came next…
After a minute or so of three fingers — I couldn’t tell, it wasn’t my job to keep track of time — I got antsy. I was being tortured; pleasure was being withheld from me.
It made me a little angry the longer I had to wait.
“Give it to me,” I commanded, my voice low like a Dom.
He stopped the movement of his fingers, letting them rest inside my hole as my body pulsed around them.
“What did you say, boy?” he asked.
“I said give it to me,” I said, my voice coming out sassier than I expected.
We were both still on the bed, and for a few heartbeats, I wondered if I’d done something wrong. I wondered if I was in trouble and felt the delicious fear leak into my senses.
But then he chuckled, the sound low and filled with light. “Always the Bossy Bottom…”
“No. I’m a Power Bottom,” I said with sass. “I know what I want, and you’re gonna give it to me.”
He paused, and I wondered if I’d taken him out of the moment.
“As you wish,” he finally said, resuming his dancing fingers inside of me.
I’d never felt more powerful than I did in that moment.
Then, one by one, he withdrew his sausage-sized fingers, letting my body snap down on the remainders until they were all gone.
There was a pause as I imagined him
