This morning the stars and planets aligned, and He and I found ourselves home alone. It was unplanned and unexpected, and we decided to make the most of it. Up early, I showered, shaved, and made myself pretty. Once I was ready, we met in the bedroom.
No rope or restraints were used. He bent me over the bed and exposed my bare ass. While I waited, He reached for His belt. Without ceremony, the beating commenced. I did my best to maintain position, but the occasional extra-sharp whack of the belt caused me to raise up off the bed. His hand in the middle of my back pushed me back down.
After a few minutes of this, He kicked my legs apart. He reached in between my legs to see if I was wet, and I was. With one quick thrust, He entered me and fucked me. But just a little; there was more beating to be had. And on it went--beating and fucking, beating and fucking, until....
Until the final round of beating, harder, faster, more intense than before, His hand on my back pushing me into the mattress, this round of beating gave Him want he wanted: my tears. He beat me until I cried. As I sobbed, still bent over the end of the bed, nose running, tears flowing, He fucked me some more. His delight in my tears was very apparent in the urgency of His thrusts.
He stopped after a few minutes, ordered me onto the bed, and I was rewarded with an orgasm, His mouth on me, sending me over the edge. I returned the favor, and He came hard and deep down my throat.
I should add that I enjoy my tears, too. I like it when He makes me cry. It isn't easy to do; as much as I like it, as much as I know He wants it, I tend to fight it. I hold back the tears for as long as I can. So when He takes me to that point of no return, it's a rush, a relief, and His excitement is a turn-on for me.
Anyway, it was bliss, all of it. I needed it. He needed it. And my ass still hurts, which makes it all the sweeter.