It hurts, after all. Whether I use my hands, or a flogger, or our lovely crop, there’s no doubt that it causes pain. Plus, it’s not pain that ceases immediately once the spanking is over. Joy reports that she can be quite sore all the next day and tender for a day after that following a nice evening of smacking the crop down upon her nipples, over and over, as she writhes in her bonds. This remains true even though I use a delicate combination of gentleness and cruelty, striving to walk the proper line between them.
Add to that the fact that it’s her breasts that we’re talking about! Joy very much enjoys having her bottom spanked, despite the fact that it, too, hurts. However, she is far more protective of her breasts than her bottom, and far more concerned that they might be harmed in some way. A bottom is made to take a bit of abuse–it’s what we sit on, after all. Female breasts, however, are delicate by nature. Joy worries that I might leave marks from the spanking, and I have to confess that even despite being careful, the possibility of bruising her pale, tender flesh remains a real possibility.
Oh, Joy truly dreads to have her breasts spanked–the combination of fear and pain causes her to break out in goosebumps whenever she guesses that this particular activity might be on the night’s menu. Once the first smack descends, she whimpers and struggles against her bonds, straining to get away.
Joy becomes extremely excited when her breasts are spanked.
Just the thought makes her heart pound. I usually don’t enlighten her with my plans in advance, but as I lay out the implements she often divines the possibility that her breasts may be due for attention. Her breath catches as I place the cuffs upon her wrists, and as I draw her arms up and fasten them out of the way, leaving her chest defenseless, her nipples come erect. She squirms as I insert the gag and draw it tight around the back of her head.
When I pause between smacks and stroke her between her thighs, she is sopping. The adrenaline courses through her, magnifying the effect of every touch, every caress. When I end the spanking and enter her, I find her three-quarters of the way to orgasm already. It doesn’t take Joy long at all after having her breasts spanked, and when she comes, she comes hard, her face twisting and her toes curling, a wordless expression of strain and release bursting from her throat. Her orgasm seems almost dragged out of her–she could not prevent it even if she tried.
Oh, having her breasts thoroughly and relentlessly spanked as she is helpless to prevent it holds great excitement for Joy, so much so that it can overpower the fear and pain. It’s a love-hate thing. Joy both dreads and desires, wants and despises, loves and loathes to be spanked on her breasts. She’ll tell me she doesn’t like it, and yet, when she knows it’s a possibility, I can watch her arousal level rise. If given the opportunity, might she ask for it of her own volition? I’m quite certain that even Joy, herself, doesn’t know the answer to that question.
But that’s the beauty of all this, isn’t it? Joy doesn’t need to face this quandary. It is not her choice. I choose for her and remove the indecision. And Joy is free to both love and hate, all at the same time.