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Maybe I’ll turn it into a series. It has become an obsession. Yes, I’ve probably watched too much Vikings and Vinland Saga for my own good.
[The Old Norse religion practiced something called Blót. It’s like a sacrificial festival held in honor of gods such as Odin, Thor, and Freyr.
Animals were usually offered, and their b!ood (hlaut) played a central role in the ritual. It was collected and ritually sprinkled over altars or the participants themselves.
Much of what we know about these ceremonies comes from medieval sources like the Heimskringla, written by Snorri Sturluson in the 13th century.
As for Choso, I feel like he’d be deeply obsessed with these kinds of b!ood rituals.]
choso's cheeks are flushed such a pretty pink that anyone would think you've already slapped him. he's a blushing mess, though you aren't sure if it's because he's embarrassed, or because you're milking him for the little release he has left in him.
what is this... his third orgasm? he's sweating—your hands are splayed over damp, heaving planes of his chest as he looks up at you with pretty pleading eyes and makes his request.
"i want..." he starts again, just in case you didn't hear him the first time, "i'dlikeyoutoslapmeplease."
you adjust your position so that you're seated more comfortably on his cock, and narrow your eyes at your boyfriend. "is this a sex thing or am i punishing you for stealing my panties again?"
he tries to look disgruntled at that comment, but the way his spent cock twitches inside of you betrays him in vile ways. "sex thing," he mumbles, leaning forward and pressing his face into your tits to then deliver a muffled "you already punished me for that."
"yeah," you bite your tongue to try (and fail) to stifle your laughter. "your ass looked great in my pink set. ooh, i should set that photo i took as my lockscreen."
"stop," choso groans against a nipple, sucking it into his mouth for comfort... or to try and shut you up. one of his hands paws at your other boob, and his other one grabs your wrist and guides it to his hair, which is down and aching for fingers to card through.
"naw," you hum, scratching your nails against his scalp and reaping the rewards of his subsequent moan against your nipple. "you're embarrassed. i'm sorry, cho."
he releases your nipple and presses his cheek against your chest, still avoiding your gaze. "are you really?"
you tug at his hair a little to get him to look at you. meeting his gaze with a softened one of your own, you offer your choso the sweetest smile you can muster. "not even a little bit."
another groan from choso, and you're sure he'd hide his face in your tits again if not for your hands now holding each side of his jaw. "why do you want me to slap you? is everything okay at home?"
"yes. it's just, the other week, when i... you know..."
"spanked me?" you offer.
choso nods. "yeah. i liked that... a lot. but i think i like the thought of you hurting me more than the thought of me hurting you."
"well," you shift a little to alleviate the stretch of his cock inside of you, which makes choso gasp. "it's not about hurting each other. it's about feeling each other... hurting each other... huh."
choso smiles as your analysis falls flat, which draws a smile of your own onto your face. though no matter how much you love your boyfriends sweet smile, a gross urge to wipe it clean off his face drives your open palm across his cheek with a loud smack!
you gasp louder than he does. choso's head turns with the force of your strike, and the hand that had been kneading your boob like a stress ball flies up to touch his cheek.
and then you feel it. the sudden jolt of his hips upward into you, the release of his fourth orgasm of the night spurting hot inside of you. he just came.
and so, you lean into the sadism now pooling in your heart. your legs are pushing you up off his only half-hard cock and dropping it back down before he can even find his breath to ask you to slow down.
"wait, wait," he chokes, a loud gasp sounding as he grabs at your hips to try and control your mean pace, just to be slapped again.
you watch his eyes roll back a little, and something sick and twisted indie of you spurs you on. "count."
"...huh?"
"count. you know how," you repeat, lifting up on his cock and slapping him across the face again as you drop down and take him to the base. "come on, count or i'll stop."
that gets him going. "god... three."
you ride him like you aren't exhausted, reaching out to take choso's chin between your fingers and guide his gaze to yours. he flinches as you do so, which tightens both your heart and pussy, because apparently you're one of societies sickest.
"now thank me," you lean forward, manoeuvring his head so that you can lick up the side of his cheek. the skin you've slapped is hot on your tongue and makes choso's entire body squirm.
"please," he uses his manners, though not the ones you asked of him. grabbing at your hips, digging fingers into flesh so hard it hurts enough to spur you on. "please, thank you. more, thank you... please."
well—you've gone and broken him.
he takes the fourth nicely, with a choked thank-you and a few tears now cradled in his lash line. a part of you wants to hold him close and wipe his tears dry, but the poor soul is bucking up into you to meet your pace and clenching every muscle in his body preceding his fifth orgasm of the night.
and before you can even raise your hand to slap him a fifth time, he's looking up at you with these huge eyes and your spit on his face and sweat sticking his pretty hair to his forehead. "five," he's counting before-the-fact. so eager for you. "five, five, please."
god, you love him.
the fifth slap sends him nicely into his fifth orgasm. his whole body shakes, spurting nothing inside of you because he's been milked dry as it is. still, the absolute mess of a man that he's become beneath you is enough to tip you over that same fine edge.
you don't have half the mind to consider the ethics behind orgasming this hard after striking your sweet boyfriend across the face. if you're this dazed—struggling to catch your breath as you lean forward and press a relentless assault of kisses to the face you've just slapped senseless—you can't imagine was kind of sludge you've turned choso's brain into.
"still alive in there?" you manage, checking his eyes like you're observing a head trauma victim. "too much?"
despite a face wet with tears and an apparent inability to find his words, choso shakes his head. he looks dumb with overstimulation, but still manages to grip your hips and start lifting you up on his cock again.
"what are you—" you look down to where his shaky arms are guiding you to start riding him again. "i think i might have damaged your brain, baby."
Not to be incredibly vulgar and nasty or anything, but I’d like to close my eyes and rest my head in somebody’s lap while they run their fingers through my hair
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