Last week, I thought I was going to get hit (very, very consensually) with someone’s belt. It turns out they actually had a far more deliciously twisted idea of how to use it, which I really enjoyed. I began this story even before that, and I can’t tell if it is a little darker, a little more edgy, than my usual erotica.
“Give me the belt when you’ve got it off her. No. Make her hold it while you finish stripping her. She’s expecting me to use one of our toys to hurt her, but and I want to make her confront the fact I’m going to use part of that pretty little fuck-me outfit she came over in to hurt her.”
Fuck you, I want to snap at him, but I know it will only make things worse. Instead I stand there, and she sucks at my neck and grabs my flesh and squeezes my tits while she strips me. I hold his gaze, showing him that I can take this. I take the belt when she presses it into my hand, glad for an excuse to look down. She is eager and excited. I blush.
“Hurry up, or I’m going to just to make you hold her down and while I cut the rest of her clothes off her. That means if you let her move, not only will I be disappointed in you both, but your girl might get hurt.”
I stop breathing for half a second, as something twists inside me – I’m pretty sure she does too. She’s rougher as she finishes taking my clothes off me, smacking my inner thighs just to enforce the point that they’re in charge. Or rather that he is, and if she doesn’t help him hurt me, he’ll find a way to twist it against her.
I hate how much I love it.
Having to hold my belt, knowing he’s going to beat me with, is strange. He’s strapped me with his belt before and I now get wet at the very sound of him pulling it from his belt loops, which is hugely embarrassing. He’s never done this though, using a part of my outfit to hurt me. The closest we’ve come is him stuffing my wet knickers in my mouth to shut me up and show how wet I am, that he’ll take my arousal as consent – which is hot even when I’ve been begging him to do it anyway, so my consent is not even slightly in question.
This is different: he’s right that I came here wearing the jeans and crop top and cute grin that balance slut and corruptible innocence in the way that ends up with me in their bed quickest. There is something hot and perverted about him knowing that and thus hurting me . He gets off on the mind-fuck of forcing me to admit what I want as much as the sounds I’ll make when he hits me. He’s also doing it to her, a little, because she is never completely sure that it’s ok to be turned on so much by my pain. She feels guilty at how much the sadist in her enjoys me whimpering and begging.
The belt is heavy in my hand, representing the mix of fear and desire that is heavy between my legs.
“Hand me her belt and get our little slut face down on the bed. You’re going to hold her down so I can hurt her, aren’t you?”
Why is it so hot that he isn’t speaking directly to me? He hadn’t since he’d slammed me into the wall and asked if I remembered my safe word. When I’d nodded – as much as I could with his hand pressed against my throat – and whispered Newton sir, he had released me and ordered her to drag the filthy little girl who needed a beating through to their bedroom. She’d kissed me before obeying him.
The excitement in her voice is obvious, and I smile against the sheets as she arranges me on their bed. I love it when they play with me like this.
“You can count for her, I think. And you’re going to be a good girl and count properly, aren’t you? You aren’t going to lose your place or count a number twice so we have to start again, because you know that those things will mean I need to punish her more. Even though you know that the longer I beat her, the harder I’ll be – and the more inclined I’ll be to give orgasms to good girls who tease their friends.”
Damn him. He was clever, hinting at the possibility of an orgasm for her if she made this as long and as painful for me as possible. Even with my face in a pillow, I can picture her chewing on her lip as she tries to decide whether she could let her inner sadist out if she got to come later.
“Fuck you,” I murmured against the sheets.
I wasn’t ready for the sharp smack and try to flinch away from the blow. At least it was his hand, not the belt. (My belt.) I wish I could rub the place he hit me, but she’s pinning me firmly to the bed.
“What did the dirty bitch say?”
“She said ‘fuck you,’ sir.”
Oh yes, she’s definitely grinning now. I wriggle against the hands holding me down.
“Oh, I intend to – or maybe watch you fuck her. But right now let’s give her what she wants. Ready to hurt our little slut with me?”
“Always, my dear.”
Masturbation Monday is run by the fabulous Kayla Lords. Click on the logo to see what everyone else is getting off to this week.
This story features a submissive being hit with a belt, because that’s because it was a bigger mind-fuck for her than a flogger or a paddle. Thus, I’ll again suggest this Bondage Boutique Beginner’s Flogger, which is available for just £14.99 from Lovehoney, and looks like a good toy to start with if you want to try flogging for the first time!
Image sourced through Pixabay. This posts includes affiliate links and if you buy from them, I make a small commission.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.