Reprise - Continued

[xkelasparmakx]

The lashes. The cracking sound of it, the strike, the jolt, the way Kelas could feel Jasi through this punishment—his strength, his dominance, his desire, and... something else. This was not someone who was giving him pain from a place of meanness or cruelty. How he could sense it, how it felt differently than he'd known before, Kelas could not understand but he was certain of it.

 

How grateful he was! As each snap-slap sent throbbing, stinging, pleasure-pain through his body he wanted to praise Jasi for his graciousness. He wanted Jasi to know—not take what was given to him greedily, though that desire was also there, to want more, and more—it burned deeply in Kelas's belly where his prUt was swollen inside his sheath.

 

But Kelas could not speak just yet. He was too intent on the strikes, anticipating them, savoring them, relishing in them to find words. He clawed at the wall and made sounds, yes plaintive, whining, desirous sounds—but no actual words. They would come when Jasi was finished spanking his bottom and making it beautiful with his signature. How Kelas would love to touch the raised welts tomorrow, how he would bask naked in the mirror twisting so he could see them; the colors, the crisscrossed stripes, the marks that Jasi had given him to wear. To be his!

 

There was a pause in the lashes and Kelas wondered if Jasi was finished, or if he was just drawing this one out, what was he doing? He was on the verge of thanking Jasi, once he caught his breath, but then Jasi was near to him and his fingers were inside hard, and rough.

 

“Mm-hm-mm,” Kelas panted, “ha—Jasi--” Kelas wanted to push back against those wonderful fingers, to meet the thrusts, to catch a claw as he had that first time, but he knew better. He tried his best to keep his lower body still. His thighs began to ache and quiver with the effort, it was such a natural instinct to seek out the pressure and hard-fuck of those fingers, instead of waiting and taking what and when Jasi wanted to give to him.

 

Being at Jasi's mercy this way, learning to control himself to truly submit like this—this too was different than the usual type of submission he had displayed for his partners in the past. This was more. This was... right. There was no thought that could accurately blossom to convey how right it was. But it was so arousing to make himself wait like this. By now he could have everted. There had been enough pain to prompt it and Kelas could feel the difference in his belly—the way the muscles were ready to push out now. It was a good feeling; feeling full of his own arousal, and Jasi's fingers, and on the edge of everting. At the last moment he held out against it.

 

Would Jasi wish him to wait until he'd been told to evert? Or would Jasi be cross that he was keeping himself inside? Either way the answer seemed to be pleasure for Kelas—he would either please Jasi with his restraint, or he would displease Jasi which might earn him more lashes.

 

Either way his arousal was so intense that a gush of lubricant slicked Jasi's hand and dripped.

 

“Ahh, I am sssuh-ho in need of you, Jasi,” Kelas hissed, “you ah making me, hha-” Kelas shuddered with the intensity of his arousal, “ssss—shu-hivah...” he took a few shaky breaths and had to pause to steady himself against the wall again. Do not push back! Jasi will give to you when he is ready. “Thank you for-ah my lashes, Jasi. My punish-a-ment that you give to me... makes me feel.. ssssuh-huch gratitude that you allow me to wearah these mahks. They ah hssss—beautifuh.”

 

They weren't only words, not a practiced play at submission that he had been used to. His true gratitude was obvious in his tone of voice, the sound of the words, the expression on his face whether Ekor could see it or not from that angle. His eyes were leaking again but rather than feel ashamed at what might be seen as a weakness he allowed the tears to streak his cheeks with their warmth and cling to his lashes. Let Jasi see them. It was okay, wasn't it? He would know that they were not tears of weakness for the pain he had received, but that they were tears full of feelings that Kelas did not completely understand—he would know, wouldn't he?

 

Jasi would not misread them if Kelas cried because he felt good, or because he felt so intensely, and punish him for a mistaken weakness as some had. Kelas knew it with every fiber of his being that he was safe here. It was illogical since he and Jasi were still mostly strangers. But the trust he felt was great. It was much to give but he hoped that Jasi would continue to accept it.

 

The trembling grew more intense as though Kelas' body was being racked with chills from a fever. If Jasi didn't deny him the contact of his fingers soon he wasn't going to be able to hold back—possibly he could still keep his prUt inside—but he was going to come, and so soon into their time together. But it had been longer than usual since he'd had intimate contact that wasn't his own hand or a lifeless toy—and that made him feel even more urgent.

 

Kelas pressed his forehead to the wall and waited to see if the waves would come, or if he could get a hold of himself, and keep it at bay a bit longer.