Lots About Me Ch 09 Belts

Just to warn, this has some bdsm and quite rough hitting in it.

*****

We get home. We were out with your friends, who I don't really know, so I wasn't talking very much and was mostly thinking instead. I was sitting there thinking dirty thoughts, while we had dinner. Thinking about now. Thinking what I wanted you to do to me when we got home.

And now we're home.

We're home, so I take off my belt and hand it to you. I do it without saying a word. I'm wearing a dress, so it's a thin belt, a narrow belt.

A belt I know will hurt.

You look at me, and then take it.

"Make me," I say.

I know quite why, but I'm in the mood for this.

You nod, and reach towards me. I think you're trying to grab my arm, and pull it away from you. Instead you grab my hair.

You tug it, hard, so I wince. Apparently you're in the mood for this too. You hold onto my hair, and pull downwards, so I have to bend, and almost kneel. You keep pulling until I am actually kneeling, on the floor, and then you hit me with the belt.

You swing at me, a bit wildly. You hold my hair, and hit the belt against my back and ass through my dress, and against my bare legs, too. It hurts, especially on bare skin. It hurts enough I shriek, and try to pull away. It hurts enough I want to curl up and hide under my arms.

But I can't, because you're still holding my hair.

You whip me with the belt, in the hallway, on the floor, behind the front door. My dress slides up as I struggle, most of the way up my legs, giving you more bare skin to hit.

After ten blows, after I'm just lying there sobbing, after I've stopped struggling, you tug my dress all the way up my legs. You pull it up to my waist, so you can hit my tummy and hips and the top of my legs, too. You hit me again. You hit hard, so it stings sharply, so it's probably is leaving marks, grazes and bruises.

I want those marks. Later, tomorrow, I'll be proud of those marks and bruises.

You hit me once more, then let go of my hair, and grab at my undies before I realize what you're doing. You tug, suddenly, sharply, and they tear. I'm a bit surprised, and go still, and you hit my ass.

You hit my bare ass, as hard as you can. With the belt folded over now.

It hurts like fire, like desperately sexy achy wet fire. I sob, and gasp, and try to crawl away from you, but you keep hitting me, and I can't get away. I'm on the floor, crawling, so you can easily walk along after me and keep up.

You follow me, still hitting me. "Into the bedroom," you say. "Crawl."

I do. I feel odd. I feel ashamed. I feel excited, too.

I feel sore. I feel hurt. My back and ass sting, from you hitting me.

I crawl into the bedroom, and you follow me. You stop hitting me, finally, and come around in front of me. You stand there, looking at me. I look up at you, and wipe the tears off my face, and push my hair out the way, too.

I bite my lip. I sniff, and that's gross, but I can't help it with all the crying, and we've done this enough that you know that. I sniff, and push my hair back again, and look up at you, wondering what you'll do next.

You extend your foot. You're in heels, open shoes with bare feet. You put your foot out towards me and say, "Lick it."

I do. I want to. My back hurts and I'm kneeling on the floor before you and I want to do this. I want this desperately. I lick your shoe, and I lick your skin. I lick the shiny leather. I lick the top of your foot, and kiss your toes, and lick around your ankle.

"Here," you say, and touch your calf with the belt. "Higher."

I nod. I lick. I kiss and lick and taste you. You point again, higher on your leg, and I lick there too. You point again, and I lick again.

I lick up your leg, slowly, as you watch. I lick higher. Your knee. Your thigh.

You lift your dress, as I lick.

"Here," you say, and pull your underwear aside.

I lick you there. You hold me by my hair and make me, not that you actually need to make me. I lick you out, and adore your taste. I lick you so you have to sit down on the bed as your legs go weak and you come.

Then you put the belt around my neck, and let it tighten until I can feel it, like really feel it almost enough to be dangerous, and then you pull me up onto the bed too, and lick me out. You keep hold of the belt, the belt you just used to beat me, and you lick me out too.

Then you kiss my back and my ass and wipe away what blood there is with a damp warm cloth. Then you rub lotion into me where my skin isn't broken, and say you love me.

"Thank you for doing that," I whisper. "And sorry I'm so strange."

"You're not strange," you say.

"I am. But I'm glad you don't mind."

You smile, and I kiss you.

I love you too.