He was twisting and turning, trying to turn his head to catch sight of me as I moved my hands away from his body. Violet blood leaked down from the nonsensical patterns I had sliced into his stomach, the cuts just barely breaking the skin in some places, in others driving in deeper. The marks from my nails were already fading, as well as the lighter cuts from the knife, but the deeper ones were taking long, scabbing over.

Below his stomach, his erection was jutting out, almost angrily, bobbing in time with his heartbeat. Thin rivulets of his blood had fallen even there, and stained his coal-black skin purple. He let out a soft moan, an almost wanton sound, but it was heavily muffled by the shirt cuff I had filled his mouth with earlier. His body trembled, and I could see that he was restraining himself from moving too much - of course that could also be because if he moved too much, he would fall to his knees.

“If it is too much,” I whispered. “Fall, my warrior, fall. There is no shame in that.”

Gently I ran my lips across his collarbone, breathing in the still pungent odour of his strong blood that at least oozed at his collar bone. I gave him a playful nick, my grin large and ominous. Then I parted from him to lean back and take up the plait I had hidden the pebbles in at one end. As his body trembled with the decision of whether or not to fall I grabbed a few other strips. Darting forwards, before he could do anything but be indecisive I flicked three bands of fabric around his eyes, catching them easily. I kissed his neck cruelly as I tied them tight at the back of his head, his use of eyes now not available to him.

He shivered, and I could see the muscles in his shoulders and legs twitch and strain. Then he breathed in, deeply, his chest rising and falling once, twice - and then he deliberately knelt down. His knees were now on either side of the tent pole, his feet a short distance behind it. I watched as he leaned his head back and rested the back of it against the pole behind him. My lips curled up in a smile and I let him rest for a couple of minutes, getting his breath as I eased out the cords of the makeship whip in my hand.

My body shivered with my own delight and I felt my underneath beginning to self-moisturise. Indeed, I was enjoying this as much as he was (by his stiff manhood), but I would not let him know.

Not just yet.

Slowly I breathed, and let the minutes extend. I did not move, as he was left in unknowing silence. I could see his shoulders roll and his body tremble, and there was an odd, curious groan that tried to slip out past the gag. His head twisted slightly, as if he was trying to reach me but I wasn't there. It seemed to confuse him.

Laughing with delight I skipped around to his side, pleased to see he still wanted me. I eyed his side for a moment - the strong thigh and the chest - and there I focused before extending my arm out behind me.

Then I struck. Hard and unforgiving, the pebbles smacking against his flesh. He shook, his body flinching away - then he was back, straight backed, his head trained in the direction had struck from. I could see that his body tension had shifted - from confusion, to anticipation.

He liked it then. So, again I hit, bold and determining, smack on his side. I saw a large bruise popping into existence from where I had first hit and now a second stripe was joining it. If he could gasp I am sure he would have as I used all my strength to then lash his chest, right along the diaphragm. My own body surged with delight at the prospect of dealing, and memories of taking, this type of pain to one who was allowing me to do it.

A fourth time I hit, on the opposite thigh to the place I had begun and I whispered. “Do you want me to stop?”

His hips rolled back and forth slowly, and he shook his head with a heavy motion, like it took conscious thought to make it move. He had leaned towards my voice when I spoke, moving towards me as much as he could. I grinned and gave him a single gift - a short but heavy kiss, around his gag. He seemed to enjoy it, stretching towards me longingly, but I was not finished.

I moved back and swung back the crop as best as I could before driving it over the exposed cheek of his arse.