The Color Red

The problem I'm coding my way through is the sort that, had it not been for you, probably would've kept me from eating until very late last night and I probably would've barely slept at all. As it is, I've barely slept at all anyway. I must say I can't complain when you find better uses for my nights (among other, ahem, things of mine) than my machine, or school does. I wake to find you gone, having left before I woke to spend a day with your mother, and stumble into the shower and through the rest of my morning wake-up routine. Once conscious enough to do some abstract thinking I return to the program that so held my attention the day before, and manage to make quite a bit of progress. At the expense of lunch, and more dinner than a quick sandwich and some chips.

Nine times out of ten when I hear you get home from anything, I drop what I'm doing and practically pounce on you (except for the times when I'd be pouncing on a Very Tired Ma'am(tm), and catching you or breaking your fall is called for instead). This is one of those one times I don't. I blink and look at the clock as I register that you're home ... and it's well after normal dinner time, you must've eaten dinner out or gone to a movie or something. My customary slouch disappears temporarily, but I'm too wrapped up in bug-fixing to stop quickly. Still, at least I'm not caught off guard (that'd only happen when I've been up for 40 hours) when you slip up behind me and wrap your arms around my shoulders as you lean into to kiss my cheek.

My normally frantic typing slows and I smile, "Hey, you."

"What'cha doing?" my answer, involving a rather nasty part of writing my own compiler for a class, instead of drawing the usual "In terms humans understand" type comment just gets an "Ahhh" of understanding.

Your grip on my shoulders tightens, and I feel lips and teeth bite down on the upper part of my ear. Typing, along with most thought, stops completely as I tilt my head towards yours slightly. My mind goes blank, and a feeling of warmth courses down through me. The small mewling sound I make is cut short as the bite changes quickly from gentle nibble to being just short of breaking skin. And the bite isn't short, lingering with my ear clamped roughly between teeth for a moment before worrying it slightly and letting go. After release you growl angrily in my ear, "You were instructed to wear red for Me today, teisuu." At this I tense up completely. The pain from your marking my ear with your teeth is almost forgotten, drowned out by fright and guilt.

I am most definitely not wearing any red. Oh. Shit.

I've dressed without thinking almost every day of my life. I don't even really see what I'm putting on except to make sure I'm wearing everything I should. You (and I, rather quickly) thought it would be a nice, easy bit of Domination to have you pick a color for me to wear every once in a while (and vice versa). Nothing complicated or extravagant (although I did find amusing the time you told me to wear some shade of red I'd never heard of before the next day over lunch, and had had to write down the name and hurriedly go find a shirt that color on my way home that evening), just something that I'd have to actively remember at one of the times I'm most unconscious; something simple that I'd have to break years of not-quite-habit to do. And I'd forgotten completely.

Oh. Shit.

Very quietly, the fear and guilt showing in my voice, "Th... this one begs forgiveness. He completely forgot Ma'am's instructions as he was dressing this morning. He is most sorry an-" my attempt at an apology is cut off by a hand cupping my chin firmly as I close my mouth to pronounce the 'd'.

Most of the displeasure is gone from your voice, replaced by more than a little warmth, "I encourage your sometimes too-sharp tongue because it's one of things I enjoy most about you. Since I encourage it, it's not fair to punish you for things you say. Most of the time. You never have, and I doubt you ever will, displease me in anything important. But this was something small. Something you've managed to do before. Something easy. This will not do. You will come with Me. Now. And you will be silent until I say otherwise or I'll shove a gag between those kissable lips." Something in the tone you say the last in leaves me with the impression that you just may anyway.

I nod quick assent, and hit the pair of commands that save my work in emacs, then stand, not waiting to shut anything down.

Once I've shut the door to the bedroom quietly behind us, you say only two firm words before turning away and heading towards your closet, "Strip. Kneel."

I'm on my knees with my gaze dropped to the floor in front of me as you come back over to me. A single finger tilts my head up so I'm looking at you. ... In one hand you're holding a ball gag and a blindfold. The blindfold is red. Your smile at the moment i find ... chilling. That smile is the last thing i see before you kiss my forehead and the world goes black as the blindfold is fitted to my head. When you ask how many fingers you're holding up, my wry murmur of "42" gets me a swat as you mutter that you should've just held up one.

"I'm not going to bind you this time." you say, then a touch more wryly, "You'd enjoy that, no matter what else I do. Brace yourself against the bed. I can't stop you from writhing, but you will not move from that spot any more than you must."

I brace myself against the bed as instructed, and out of habit I drop my head to face the ground in front of me. There's some rustling before I sense you behind me. Full breasts, nipples standing out from the cool air in the room, brush my back as you lean in to whisper in my ear warmly, "I am going to use the latigo, teisuu, and I'm only going to be gentle enough to keep you from bruising. Much. Remember your safe-word. Yes, Ma'am?"

You've never used anything quite so severe on me before. "Yes, Ma'am." I murmur in reply.

We'd decided that "SKITTLES!!!!" would be easy enough for me to remember no matter what, and neither of us could imagine a reason for me to scream that in the middle of a limit-pushing scene. I'd jokingly commented that that wouldn't work if you ever decided to use Chinese Skittle Torture (think Chinese Water Torture ... With Skittles) on me. You, quite seriously, replied that should you ever feel the need to do that to me, I'd be given a more appropriate safe-word then. My guess of, "Starburst?" got me a swat and, "No. Gummi Bears, smart ass. Or maybe Jelly Beans. Depends on if I intend to use either of those in addition to the skittles."

The warmth of your closeness leaves and I'm left a few moments in silence.

The first blow catches me almost completely off guard. There is no warm up. Pain shoots like lightning out from near my shoulders, where you strike. The next, a few seconds later just above my ass. The second is much lighter than the first. The third lands on my ass after a much shorter pause, as light as the second blow. Then three heavy strikes in rapid succession up higher.

How long you beat me, I can't begin to guess. You never build a rhythm, and you vary the strength of your blows. Although endorphins eventually take some of the edge off, I'm swimming in pain throughout. The lack of any sort of regularity in the strokes leaves me almost as unprepared to each blow as I was for the first. I'm distantly aware of myself writhing away from where I guess the next blow might land. None of it matters. The whole thing hurts like hell in a way I never thought I could. But I don't safe-word. I get close sometimes, but you always seem to know just when, and you back off slightly, switching to running the ends of the flogger down my back for a few moments, letting the leather slide over marked skin.

It seems like an eternity since it started when ... no more blows come. You'd paused, but never to kneel at my side. I'm unable to tell, but it feels like you wish you could wrap your arms around me more firmly than you do. When your arms slip around me, you avoid touching my back anywhere but near my kidneys where no blows fell. You don't hug more firmly because of the undoubtedly much increased sensitivity of my back and sides. I... I'm sobbing. Big, body-racking sobs as semi-coherent babbling spills from my lips, half of it praising you, the rest begging forgiveness. I don't recall having started doing either of those things. Tears have soaked the blindfold, some escaping down my cheeks. Murmuring how very pleased you are with me, how proud of me you are, then wordlessly just making comforting sounds, in my ear, you wipe at the few tears that have escaped.

After a while, you back me away from the bed, slipping in front of me to slide arms around me, still murmuring comforts. I don't know how long it takes me to stop crying. I calm down eventually in your arms, leaning against you heavily. My knees are weak, and feel a little raw from the carpet. You, I realize eventually, are sweating some from effort exerted. You've been silent for a while, just leaning back against me. The realization that you're sweating comes shortly before the realization that we're leaning against each other. Naked. The effects that thought, and the sensations associated with it, has are quite predictable.

You shift a little, giving my cock a little more room as it begins hardening and pur languorously before saying in a quiet voice, "Mmmm. 's good to know despite all I've done to you tonight you still have that reaction." You trace my lips with a pair of finger tips, which draws from me an almost soundless "hnnn" at the gentleness of your touch, as you continue speaking, "You were beautiful tonight. As you always are." A slight pause, then, "If you are spent, then I am done with you ... Are you all right? Say something if anything's not okay. If you are not spent ... well, we'll deal with that when you've satisfied me that you're okay. Are you?"

I swallow a few times, trying to get some moisture in a too dry mouth. My answer surprises me, maybe it shouldn't. My voice is a little hoarse, "I doubt I could take much more physically, but I'm okay otherwise. I think I need to lay down for a while." And ... I am okay. I'd done it. I'd taken an amount of pain I couldn't have imagined myself capable of taking. All for you. A small bit of pride forms in the pit of my stomach, along with the warmth and comfort that only comes from being in my Owner's arms.

I can see your head tilting in my mind as you ask quietly, "And if I demanded more from you?"

I'm quiet for a moment, then, "You'd get my best until I collapsed."

You shift back, trapping my now fully aroused sex between us, kissing me. Your kiss is as ungentle as the beating was, your tongue forcing its way into my mouth to brush at my tongue then the roof my mouth before retreating. Once your tongue is free of my lips, you break the kiss. The ferocity is back in your voice, "Then I am not done with you, my teisuu. I worked up quite a little sweat punishing you. Lay on the bed. On your back."

After you slip out of my way, and gently point me in the direction of the bed, i stand to get on the bed. My knees ache when i stand, and i can feel where the carpet dug into my knees. It's all i can do not to groan as i lay down as instructed. Now that I'm becoming more aware of it, my back and ass are one big mass of pain and sore spots.

Once I'm situated, you slide up to straddle my stomach, thankfully you're keeping your weight on your knees. i can feel fiery tresses fall around my head as you lean down to kiss me again, roughly. Your position over my stomach makes it obvious that I'm not the only one aroused. "Yes, this probably will hurt you some. And it certainly won't work me up as much a sweat as i did before, but it will help me sleep a little easier. But it won't help you. You will not cum without permission this time; and I will not be giving that permission tonight." You brush at the border between blindfold and forehead with fingers and i can feel your smile as you say in a very pleased voice, "And you will sleep wearing red for me." One last kiss before you sit up causes me to gasp. Compared to the others and to almost everything else tonight, it's shockingly tender. After lingering with lips pressed for a long while, you sit up, hair sliding over my blindfolded face. You, eagerly it feels like, shift yourself backwards and position my cock at the wetted entrance to your pussy.

You give a little sigh of pleasure at the feel of cock's head teasing at you, then, almost unceremoniously, drop, quickly sliding your pussy down my shaft till I'm buried completely inside you. At that we both cry out, I'd not guessed at just how turned on you were, my cry is as much from the sudden coming of warmth wrapping around me, of completeness, as it is from the sudden shocks of pain your putting your weight on me causes to shoot from the bruised flesh I'm laying on.

You moan softly as you grind a little on top of me, then sit still for a moment, clenching your cunt muscles around the base of my cock. The combination of sensations brings another gasp from me, and a long, loud whimper. It's going to be very, very hard to not to cum even with all the pain added in. Maybe especially with all the pain added in.

My hands, by now, have instinctively gone to your hips. You run your hands along my chest for a moment, before your pussy clenches and relaxes again. As it relaxes you slowly lift your self up off my cock, then drop back down again. Then you lift and drop again, this time clenching as you lift away, velvety walls and lips clinging as they're pulled away. Then the same again, the lifting away doesn't take so long this time, the drop to impale yourself completely again is always just as quick as it was the first time.

A rhythm is started. And it builds steadily, although quickly, smooth fucking motions taking my cock slowly from you, sometimes almost all the way, only to have it returned to your glistening sheathe again quickly. I don't do much except steady you with my hands as your pace increases. It's all I can do to keep myself from approaching orgasm as you continue riding me. My breaths come in the same ragged gasps yours does.

Forced to keep my attention anywhere but on the combination of your, now nearly animistic, fucking and the pain from being ridden upon after so strong a flogging, the coming of your orgasm catches me almost off guard. The rhythm you'd built up is broken as you slam yourself down on my cock, cunt spasming around the thickness inside it, as you cry out once loudly, fingernails digging into my chest as you cum.

My breath catches, so close to disobeying you again ... my thoughts are buried under a thick haze of arousal. If you moved the slightest bit, spasmed even once more, clenched yourself more tightly around me even a little, moved to slide my cock from you any sooner, I would've been lost to the rushing tidal wave of orgasm. As it is, I lay very, very still, not breathing at all as you come down.

Between deep breaths, "MMMMMmmmm, I wish I could just fall asleep with you like this ... but I won't torture poor alex like that this time, he's endured enough for one night."

You reluctantly slide my cock free and move to one side before telling me to pick the side that hurts less. After trying one then the other, I settle on my right. You nestle up against me, wiggling a little at finding me still hard.

"Maybe if I'm feeling gracious in the morning, I'll let you get rid of that pesky hardon." You reach behind your back to grope, "You deserve it." After groping, you nestle back up against and pull my free arm around you, murmuring something about a good blanket.

You seem to fall asleep rather quickly. Or at least your breathing gets deep and even. Although I did choose the less painful side, that's not saying much. I lay awake, listening to you breathe. How long I stay awake, nestled like a spoon with my arm wrapped around you, I can't say. But I do eventually drift to a sleep free of dreams wearing the color red.