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XERXES

I let my tip rest on my tongue for a moment. But keep holding her hair. It's almost interesting to watch how she keeps shaking under the suppressed cough. How she tries to defy this automatism. And she succeeds. But since I'm aware that at some point she too won't be able to withstand it anymore, I slowly let my glans slide out of my mouth. Threads of saliva connect the erection to the lips. But this sight is too short for me, so she gasps greedily for air and lets the cough run free. And with that, I let her go completely. She immediately bends forward to make breathing easier and the tones of the panicked intake of oxygen can be heard again and again.

I bow my head briefly and look at the spectacle that is presented to me. How Kalota lies naked in front of me, squirms and for the first time probably doesn't pay attention to her posture anymore. I like that. I like it when women just let themselves go. It's only here because she couldn't breathe, but that doesn't bother me. I don't really care why women can't control themselves anymore. The main thing is that it takes place.

Only after a while does she regain her composure and straighten up a bit. And now the blindfold seems to throw her off balance. Her head kept bobbing back and forth. It almost seems as if she has orientation problems. And that's probably the case. After all, I don't make a sound. She clears her throat softly and sits up straight again.

"Hello?" The voice is slightly raspy, showing that her throat has just been used for something it wasn't actually made for. Actually, I would say something. Suggesting that everything is fine and that I'm still with her. "But something is holding me back this time. She looks lost. As proud as she seemed before, she looks small now. Though I'm not sure if it's just because she's kneeling in front of me, not standing. But That's what I want to find out. So I keep the silence. But instead of getting restless, she just takes a deep breath and wipes the saliva residue from her mouth. And then she doesn't do anything. Absolutely nothing. She just sits there .

And that's exactly what shows me that something is wrong with her. This is not normal behavior. Not even for a woman who is a prostitute. They would grope their way forward, would ask again, or at least try again to guess something through the blindfold. At least that's my experience. Ignorance breeds anxiety. A normal behavior. An automatism of the body. She seems to be missing this. This is how someone behaves only when there is trust. Or if she has nothing left to lose. If she doesn't care what follows. It was probably meant to trigger something like pity. But that's not the case. I find it interesting. Really interesting. So I squat down and that alone seems to be enough for Kalota to hear me. Immediately she straightens her shoulders again.

"You did well," I say quietly, looking at her again. I'd really like to see her eyes, but it's too early for that. So I stand up again with a sigh and brush her cheek once. She has Really beautiful skin, delicate and soft.

"Thank you," she mumbles, just sitting there. "You have to get up now." I briefly consider helping her, but decide that she should be able to do it on her own. So I go to bed and finally reach for the object of my desire. Just feeling the firm grip of the leather makes my heart beat faster. And it brings out the beast in me even more. Even my breathing becomes heavier as soon as I have the crop in my hand. And I find it incredibly difficult not to swing them right away. But I have to be patient a little longer. So I turn to Kalota. She stands there and seems to be waiting for instructions. Again she seems too calm. But this time I don't give it a second thought. I don't give a damn what's on this girl's mind. I want to hear the leather pop. So I grab her arm and pull her to the bed. And while I'm pushing her upper body forward, I'm talking, "Stick your ass out nice and if it's too much, then say it." I'm serious. I want to know what the limits are. She nods while opening her hands The mattress presses. And immediately she sticks her butt out further. Does Kalota know what to expect? In fact, she seems experienced. No trembling. No hesitation. Just executing. what to expect? In fact, she seems routine. No shaking. No hesitation. Run only. what to expect? In fact, she seems routine. No shaking. No hesitation. Run only.

Then I rub the leather over the back, it tightens slightly, but that's normal too. The spine protrudes strongly from the skin and every single vertebra is recognizable. I tilt my head slightly, keep stroking towards her buttocks and watch how goose bumps form again. I can't tell if it's out of fear or desire, but that's not important either. What is important for me is the reaction to the punches. How much this thin body can take and what her voice sounds like.

"I'll start out soft and build up." Kalota tilts his head slightly in my direction and nods tentatively. "Okay." And right at that moment, that tender voice excites me to the breaking point. I like to subdue, but she awakens something else in me. I can't really grasp what it is. But it's strong. Damn strong. So I let the whip fly through the air. The hissing sounds. And then the leather meets her skin. She flinches and makes a low, strained sound. But not even a second later she sticks her butt out even further, wiggling her hips slightly.

And that's exactly what makes it seem like she's actually embracing the pain. And so I strike again. There's a loud bang and I exhale heavily. I have to stay in control. But I find it difficult. Really hard. The beast in me wants to be released. But I can't allow that. It's fallen on my feet too many times. It's kind of like a blackout. I can no longer control myself - no longer think. And even when I wake up from this, I can no longer put together what happened. There is a veil in front of it. One who makes everything seem like a dream. But these blackouts are dangerous. Not for me. But for everyone around me. Normally I would try to negate the dark side in me. But it does not work. I also had to experience this.

And so I lower my hand slightly, want to take a short break and stroke the affected areas. The small stripes are red and are already swelling slightly. God, this sight is just breathtaking. How the otherwise so flat image of women's skin is interrupted. Knowing that it was me that this is my work. So the woman's body would be a white canvas and I can paint it according to my ideas and wishes. And there's that pulling in my groin again and I shake my head slightly.

"Is everything okay?" Yes, I ask the women if they are okay. Yes, I care about the well-being of people. Unlike my father. Unlike so many men.

"It's fine." Her voice is firm. Really firm. And now this is throwing me into a state of complete confusion. How can punching a woman make her appear more confident?

"You can go ahead," she whispers, and there's that cute blush again. She's embarrassed. I should be wondering why that is. Should probably be questioning what's going on here. But I'm not doing any of that. Instead I grip the handle tighter, grab her upper back, and strike. Over and over again. Hiss after hiss, bang after bang, white skin turning red. I want to hear her scream. Or at least a whimper. But this all that sounds are muffled sounds pushing through her clenched teeth.

Kalota clutches the mattress of the bed, showing me that she's still there, but she doesn't react enough. And that makes me hit harder. But the problem is that with every hit, the beast keeps coming out. I hardly notice it, but it grabs me. makes me blind My environment is blurred. I hardly notice anything. I only know one thing: She should scream. I need a sound drenched with agony. As I need to breathe, this should be louder than the leather hitting her skin.

And again my everyday struggle arises. Give in to the desire for suffering or let reason prevail. I have to fight this one every day. Each night. Every damn second. Sweat builds up on me. Runs down my forehead. My breathing is difficult too. I would like to stop But I can not. My heritage takes care of that. i need the power The control. the screaming Anything that feeds my dark side. This is important. Otherwise it will eventually overwhelm me and completely overwhelm me. The middle ground is good. This turned out to be correct. At least until now.

Blood is produced, making the crop shine even more in the glow of the fire. I clearly perceive it. See it. And yet it doesn't penetrate through the swamp of my thoughts that that's enough. I keep kicking my butt. A growl presses down my throat and with that animalistic tone I know I'm about to lose control. If I don't stop right now, I won't be able to stop. And for a moment I think that I should just grab her and squeeze my erection between her thighs with full force. Without regard to losses. Turn my anger into desire.

I want her to feel pain with every thrust. Wants her to sob softly every time my pelvis bangs on her bruised bottom. My hardness seems to twitch under this thought and I give in to the urge. I will take her as I want. No more watching. I don't want to fight my needs anymore. And anything is better than blacking out again. So I'll pick it up again. The leather snaps against the skin. She winces violently. And that's when I notice the rushing of my own blood.

Also that Kalota is no longer so secure. she is shaking. Has trouble keeping her arms straight and supporting herself. Her elbow bends slightly and she straightens it again, but it shows that she is not as strong as she pretends. And right with the thought I hear the soft sobs. I didn't notice. forgot everything And now I drop the switch. It happened again. I lost control Not strong. The scale is evident this time. At least she's still alive. breathes.

Kalota trembles again and now I hear the whimpering. She sounds sad. Really vulnerable. And with that I manage to push the beast back a little. I immediately grab her shoulder and yank her up, spinning her around to face me. I need to see the eyes I need to realize if that was too much. And so I remove the annoying cloth with a quick hand movement. Kalota flinches again and her lower lip trembles uncontrollably. But I deny that. What is important is the expression in the eyes. I need to know if I've gone too far. This is important. Very important.

Tears have moistened the skin. And the eyelashes are also moistened by the small drops. I grab her chin roughly to keep her from turning away, and it seems my grip is a little too tight because she's whimpering slightly. But I do not care. Anyone who can take such blows will hardly be bothered by something like that. And then I see the brown eyes. A deer immediately comes to mind. A shy deer. And there is something like shock coupled with suffering. But no fear. Nothing to suggest I've pushed it too far. And that makes me angry. That can not be. Never before has a woman been able to take so much the first time. Something is wrong with her. Or me me. Maybe I just don't want to see the fear. Maybe I don't want to recognize the disgust towards me.

She seems to sense that I care about her well-being. Or more likely mine. But she can't know that. Yes, not even remotely suspect. "It's okay," she whispers, and again the voice is far too quiet. "Really."

And now I'm letting go of Kalota. I immediately bury my hand in my hair and can only look at this petite person in complete disbelief. Then blood runs down her legs. It's obvious she must be in pain. She must suffer. And yet she really doesn't seem to mind. That makes me tremble. My breathing is getting heavier. And there's the beast again. What my father created. What I want to let out and yet try to tame. But it's hard for me to keep control. Infinitely heavy. The monster in me wants to make her fall - show her that nothing is okay here and that she should fear for her trivial life.

I clench my fists and Kalota sees it. She swallows hard and stares at it for a little too long. Then our eyes meet again and a slight smile creeps onto her lips. It's not real. Should be encouraging. I don't care. That's how I know I have to get out. Instantly. Otherwise something will happen here that I will regret later. Without looking at her again, I spin around and storm out into the hallway. The monster inside me is still raging and it's getting harder and harder not to hit the wall uncontrollably. I have to vent my aggression somewhere.

Platura stands in the aisle and looks at me in amazement, but I can't deal with that either. I have to leave real quick. And I don't have to worry about what he thinks about him. He knows me. Know my weaknesses. I've often had to make my victims disappear and cover my tracks to maintain my reputation as a good man.

"I want her," I bark, just rushing past him. "I want her at all costs," I mutter. And at that moment I ask myself if I really want this or if the evil in me wants it. Again my environment blurs and actually I should despise Kalota. But she's not afraid of my inner beast. She's not afraid of the dark side in me. And maybe with her I can learn to control the monster. At the price that it will take control again and again. That it wants to destroy them. But that's okay. Kalota seems to be able to take it.