I was punching him over and over again: his face alternatively screwed up with pain, mouth open in a silent yell, then stoic against the hurt, completely closing down, trying to get control back. His body thrashed violently against the restraints at the peak of each wave until I could no longer aim the strike and had to stop.
He was so fucking pretty when he was like this: not thinking, just reacting. Some fear, a hint of betrayal, a tilted-head smile when I would talk to him between the punches.
I put on my mock sympathy face “Awww… does it hurt bambi? But you are *invincible*…”
It was a word he had thrown at me earlier. “INVINCIBLE!” he had declared. Funny.
More punching, that same spot… more and again. His body almost throwing me off the bed with the violence of his reaction, despite his restraints. Powerful, hot… so fucking hot.
I manoeuvred myself so that my pussy was within reach of his fingers. It was awkward, his wrist cuffed, tied to the corner of the bed. I pulled his fingertips against me, and watched his face change as he felt how wet I was, how wet he made me. His entire body relaxed, his face blissing out a little as I shoved my cunt against his hand.
“THIS is why we are doing this… THIS is why…” I said.
He nodded, a tiny smile playing at his mouth. He made a soft sound as I fucked against him, his fingers slipping inside me easily. Maybe a minute or two before I got back on top of him.
“Why do you like it?” he asked. “Is it the pain or the reactions?”
“…because… I like *you*…”
“Yes but you can have me without the punching…”
“Because I can. Because you are so beautiful…”
I had no better answer.
I looked at him lying there, waiting. I readied my fist, watched his brow furrow. He took a deep breath. I let my fist fly.