By slavebladeboi
Mike held the crop with two hands and stood back from the fuck bench. The three deep red lines it had just made on Nate’s ass stood out against the pale-pink skin that covered the rest of the boy’s rear end. He was quite surprised that, so far, Nate had chewed down hard on the gag and not made more than a fast exhalation of breath when the crop had bitten into him. Mike was also aware that he was using the length of the riding crop more as a cane than simply smacking Nate with the leather tip, increasing the pain somewhat, to make sure Nate understood the difference between punishment and an erotic beating. Seven more to go.
Stepping back into position, Mike raised his arm once more. There wasn’t any perceptible swishing sound cutting through the air as he very forcefully brought it down, and Nate suddenly jerked forward in his bonds as it landed. His head jolted against the collar, and this time he made a throaty yell through the gag, pulling at the cuffs that were fastened around his wrists.
Mike didn’t pause for long between strokes, maybe two or three seconds, so number five fell almost directly after number four, this time with a louder muffled yell together with a spray of drool and the sound of rattling steel as Nate’s wrists again tugged at the cuffs. Nate was audibly panting. His eyes were screwed tight. Mike knew he needed to make a point but was also aware of not pushing Nate too far too soon. He continued with the thrashing, using slightly less force, but still hard enough to produce a fine set of ten red welts across the tight, up to now pristine, perfect boy ass.
