Walker Bexley

“Do they still hurt a lot, baby?” I murmur, kissing one of Mike’s plump, bruised-up butt cheeks, and he sucks in a sharp breath, then shakes his head. Christ. His little ass is so pretty and fuckable. I love that Mike has a high pain tolerance, but that’s also dangerous sometimes, because when he’s in his Little headspace, he often can’t tell the difference between good pain and too much pain. Which is why I rather ask too much than not at all. But I trust Mike’s words, so when he says it’s okay, then it’s okay. The spiked paddle I used on him for a demo this morning left gorgeous punctures, and luckily only a few are bleeding. My pretty boy. He bruises so quickly, and so beautifully. “Alright,” I murmur, pulling him onto my lap after I’ve sat up on our bed, and he curls up. Mike loves c