I waited for the second, and then tried to work out if it was more or less painful than his hand. His hand was heavier and covered more area, but this had a unique viperish quality to it that promised torments to come.
It was deceptive in its lightness, little whispers of pain flicking over my bottom until he started to lay it on more heavily and then I began to rock and gasp. Solid bars of heat fell, one, two, three, then stopped.
I looked over my shoulder. He had put the belt down. Was that it?
‘No,’ he said, in answer to the unspoken question. ‘Just an interlude.’
He spread my thighs and began to rub my clit, gently, not enough to bring me off, but little teasing touches that had me pushing myself on his fingers and moaning for more.
‘Just as wet as ever,’ he said. ‘You want it, don’t you? God, you’re horny as fuck. Sorry, Twink.’
He took his fingers away and I pouted.
‘I’m not finished yet.’
The belt lashed down again and now it made a loud crack every time. I hoped our thin walls were enough to keep the noise from disturbing the neighbours. What on earth would they think we were doing? Would it be obvious? The thought that they knew Dan was giving my arse a good thrashing with his belt got me through six more hard strokes, keeping me soaking wet and ready.
He put the belt down again, just as I was starting to struggle. My breath staggered out in uneven pants and I prepared for more fingering, hoping he would press a bit harder this time.
But no.
It was his tongue, warm and wet, that pushed at my pussy next. He made a seal with his lips around my clit and breathed on it until it felt so
hot and swollen I had to wriggle my hips furiously. Then the very tip of his tongue flicked at it, so tantalisingly I wanted to sob.
‘Oh, fuck, please,’ I wheedled. ‘Oh, yes.’
But he wouldn’t give me the pressure I craved. It was like having a feather lightly brushed over my clit, his devilishly unsatisfying combination of breaths and little tongue-tickles. I began to wish he’d get back to strapping me instead.
And so he did, six more firm strokes, and the harder he did it, the more I seemed able to take.
When he dropped the belt again, I was straining and beginning to sweat, but a strange kind of exhilaration made me want more.
Instead, Dan pushed the first couple of inches inside me and held it there until I begged him to fuck me.
‘Do you think you deserve it?’ he said.
‘I deserve it. I’m a bad girl.’
‘Then that means you need more of my belt, doesn’t it?’
‘Ohhh.’ I was delighted, loving every thrust, every stern word that went with it, even though it was more of his cock I really craved.
Obligingly, he pushed further in, but still with a maddening slowness that made me jolt my hips backwards, trying to catch his full length.
Once he was all the way in, I sighed deeply, ready for pleasure. But he thrust three times, then withdrew, and I was still vocalising my outrage when the belt lashed down again.
‘Just to make sure the message is getting through,’ he said, putting his shoulder into six more strokes.
I was struggling now, and he seemed to know it. When he put the belt down, I was right on the verge of tears and pleas. I drew a huge breath of relief and spread my thighs in invitation.
But, once he was inside me, giving me the hard fucking I’d wanted all along, part of me wished he hadn’t stopped. Part of me wished he’d carried on whipping my bum until the tears came and the pleas rained down, and then he’d whipped right through them. Did that make me wrong in the head?
I imagined him doing this while he powered into me from behind, imagined my bottom even sorer, my submission absolute. In the end it was those thoughts, rather than his stout attentions to my pussy, that made me come.
‘I need this,’ I sighed, while he speeded up and got ready to fill me with his spunk. ‘I need it.’
He grabbed my shoulder so hard it nearly dislocated, his orgasm mightier than usual, then lay down beside me, beaded with sweat, his eyes wide with astonishment at what had just overtaken him.