Asra bends over your lap, elbows braced against the couch cushions as your palm splays across his throat and collar bone. With your dominant hand, you deliver the first swift spank. Asra jolts, a yelp leaving his lips. “Oh!”
“Still good?” You rub a gentle hand over his backside, his flesh still thrumming from the hit. He nods. “Yes, yes, keep going.”
He braces himself for the next hit, yet he can’t help the small grunt that’s forced from his throat when your palm collides with his ass, faint callouses of your palm roughening the touch. The next spank comes quickly after, offering him no reprieve from the sting.
“F-fuuuh-” “Hush now, save your throat, I have uses for it later.”
Asra swallows, vision spinning with the rapid, consistent strikes. He feels the pain of the spank start to approach the undesirable, and you stop before he even has to say so; ever the aligned with his needs.
Instead, your fingers dip down between his thighs, your middle and ring finger rubbing over his soaked cunt. “Please,” he croaks, eyelids fluttering with the gentle squeeze to his throat.
“I love you.” You whisper to him as your fingers plunge in deep, his sharp gasp melting into an intensely pleased moan. He purrs at your touch, eyes nearly crossing as your fingers hook up. He won’t last, not at all, not with the stinging in his rear and the all enrapturing pleasure every little crook of your finger causes him. Do wreck him, it’s only fair.