Interrogation part 2

Pain is my wheel house.

Ask most people who've played with me and they'll tell you I can take a beating. And, frankly, I love taking a beating.

I love it when you can get me to a place where I am a sobbing mess, tears running down my face, snot stuffing up my nose. It's not pretty, but fuck is it a lot of fun.

In my interrogation scene with Gray, I came in with a disadvantage. We'd played enough times that he knew my strengths, and he knew my weaknesses. He knew where to attack, how to attack. I knew I was fucked from the beginning.

He started with his paddle, attacking my legs and ass. Next was his red stripe cane, again going for my fleshy parts.

I love thuddy. Love it. I suspect he started with stingy because, as I tell folks, "I love thuddy, but I'll take stingy for you." For Gray, I'd take just about anything, especially when I'm bound and gagged.

After the red stripe, he switched to his bamboo cane.

"This cane is great for leaving marks."

One quick lash and the stereotypical double bruise rose. He attacked both my thighs and my ass, hitting up and down as he so chose.

"With you, you have this lovely ass which I can hit without hitting the ass hook." He lashed across my cheeks, burning pain surging through the muscles.

"Still feel it," he asked of the ass hook. "Yes," I screamed. "Remember, don't clench."

There is just something so primal, so taboo, so humilating and wrong about getting slapped in the face. I guess that's one of the reasons why I love it.

Gray first attempted to warm my dimples, but was fowled by my right leg's support rope. Holding me steady, his hand on my chin, he slapped first left, and then right, and then both once more.

Yeah, I need more face slapping in my life.

"Where's my Ow stick...?"

His pretty piece of thin graphite had gone missing. Frustrated, he approached me again with his bamboo cane. Again he stung my flesh, now attacking my nipples, my calves, the underside of my breasts, and once more targeting my thighs and ass.

Instinctively, I tried to get away. On my one heeled foot, I bounced around the matt as much as the chest tie and my body would allow.

"You can't hop away. There is nowhere you can hop that my cane won't reach."

But I have to try, I thought as I attempted to manuever my body in some fashion that would make his blows hurt less.

"Paddles, canes, all that shit..."

He walked back to his bag of tricks, tossed down the cane, and picked up his leather gloves.

"You know what I like," he said as I watched him slip on the leather.

I wondered if he could see the smile on my face through my gag as I beamed from ear to ear. Yes, I knew what he liked because it was also what I loved.

Gray sauntered back to me and immediately started punching my chest, my legs, my ass.

"Of course I know you've been hit by Murphy. And I don't hit as hard as Murphy. So I have to hit you more."

Multiple blows repeatedly landed on my chest, the thuddy surges coming in waves. I moaned, enjoying the exquisite pain, and the slight reprieve, of thuddy punches to my body.

"And now it's time for pressure points." Gray dug his fingers into my flesh. I screamed and screamed, the way both he and I liked.

"I'm not as intense as Murphy."
"You are always intense."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"You're humble. It's a character...istic." I caught myself before I said character flaw.

"I love playing with you. You can take so much pain."
"And you're a hoot and a half."