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As i stroke your inner thighs, you know what's coming. Your ass can take much more than the insides of your thighs, but my mood is languorous: it will be easier to give you the entrée of pain there.
First a light slap, one i know won't hurt you at all. Then, after a few heartbeats, another. We both know the harder slap is coming, but i do like the challenge of trying to give you some sense of anticipation. Several more heartbeats - another light slap ...
... followed almost immediately by the hard one. There's a faint intake of breath from you; that's what i want to hear. Part of what i want to hear this session, anyway.
Another hard slap, and another, and another, and the pain starts to bloom. Your small yelp both satisfies and arouses me, and i feel the urge to become more vicious.
i take your suffering flesh between my thumb and the first joint of my index finger, and squeeze, then twist. Your intake of breath is not quiet this time, and neither is the yelp when i let go and slap that spot even harder.
Smiling, i lightly run the tips of my fingers along your skin in one direction, then use the backs of my nails for the return journey. i press the tips of my nails into you, claws beginning to dig into your flesh. My thumbnail is particularly sharp, and i push it hard into your skin, then slowly drag it across you, knowing you will at least welt.
A few inches that way ... a few inches back, along a different path ... a few inches forward again, describing yet another path, your slightly laboured breathing the only noise from you as you brace against the pain.
And then, of course, several more slaps, the hardest yet, and i can't help but growl in response to your cries. i take such pleasure in how you willingly take from me the pain i need to give.
A pause, then a coda in the form of a punch. There'll need to be more punches; i plan to leave bruising that will keep you aware of your inner thighs for days.
But that's enough for that thigh for now. Time for the other side.
☙