Did I forget to put day 8 up here? Using thepromptfoundry’s Ominous October list.
We’re back with my OC Ira Carpenter. CWs for BDSM, kinky consensual flogging and painplay. Female Domme, ayyyy.
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Ira tries to breathe through it as the rod comes down again. A trickle of blood is running down his flank. It tickles like hell and makes him want to squirm. Bad idea.
He doesn’t know why he does this.
The pain hazes out his thoughts. The hand in his hair—a woman, tonight, she told him she works as a baker and damn, the strength in her arms—pets, and tightens, and sends little trembles of euphoria through him. He grunts as another blow lands across his back, and then groans as the pain blossoms inside him, a great throbbing red flower spreading through his whole body.
Sometimes it’s just an urge. An itch he needs to scratch. He just needs someone to hurt him and make him thank them for it. Thank him for it.
It’s always strangers. The people he knows—lovers, friends, sexually-charged enemies…well, none of them are right. They don’t want to hurt him, or they aren’t interested, or…he doesn’t know. It just doesn’t work.
The whipping has paused. He lies there and breathes while the pain matures, creeping its sultry red tendrils throughout his body till it throbs in his toes and balls and sinuses.
The hand threads back into his hair, combing through his sweaty, clinging locks. He makes a sort of purring hum in acknowledgement. He can’t move. “Good pet,” she whispers in his ear. And then her nails claw down his back, over the welts, and he arches back and screams.
Her approving laughter wraps around him with the pain. For a bit, nothing needs to matter to him but this.
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