I like the days after more...

 (Originally posted to my fetlife account as erotica)

I like it when we scene. I like the abuse you put me through, the cuts and bruises promising to bloom.
But I like the days after more.

I like it when we play. When you come after me like hells fury and I laugh in response or growl in warning as we tumble across the floor. But I like the days after more.

I like it when you beat me. The strike of the paddle across my bottom as I strain against the cuffs, each blow in quick succession a reminder of your location. But I like the days after more.

I like the days after more for the ache. The ache in my muscles as I move about my day, the movement restriction I may be under because of how hard we went. The way the cuts and burns tug at the flesh around those carefully, lovingly made marks threatening to open up.

I like the days after more because every time I move I think of you. I'm reminded of our scene with every breath, seat adjustment and from the friction of my clothing on my skin. The ever aware pressure and pleasure I get from that restraint I have to keep.

I like the days after more because I spend them thinking about next time. The next time, the chance, the moment when we get to do it all over again.