Ricu – Stranger in the dark – 5

5th chapter of the English translation of the short story about Ricu I’ve already published in German. The previous chapter can be found here. Full number of chapters will be 6.
Translation was done with DeepL translator, followed by revision on my own

The fact that he seemed satisfied, that he let himself be appeased by giving in and obeying, could have been a good sign. And perhaps he lashed out a little less forcefully than he could have. But his thirty-five, as far as Ricu managed to count, he got from him after all.

To Ricu’s surprise, the whip was less painful than the belt. Just from the multitude of leather strips, he had expected the opposite. But still, counting became impossible for him, and he was already getting muddled in the range of ten to fifteen. It appeared to him to be more than announced. But from about twenty on, it gripped him quite deeply anyway, giving him a shake when the next one hit him, on his back, on his buttocks, occasionally also on his arms and thighs. By and by, there was simply no place left that would have been unharmed before a new blow hit it. His crying had become uncontrollable.

Instinctively, he had raised one arm in the meantime, writhing to the side, trying to protect a spot on the side from which it was literally screaming at him that this had to stop. The other showed patience with it, and even if he did not stop hitting him: he came closer to him in the process. Almost tenderly, when he grabbed Ricu’s wrist, he put his hands on the floor, one on top of the other, and held them there briefly. Casually he stroked his hair.

Something had changed, between them, when the punishment was finished, when he grabbed Ricu by the upper arm. With gentle force, he pulled him to his feet.

Ricu felt like he was going to faint, now that he had been down there on the floor for quite some time, in such an uncomfortable pose. His buttocks glowed like fire, his back ached, and his knees felt stiff and far from good. An arm wrapped around his side, supportively, not romantically or tenderly. And this man here, acting like a beast despite his well-groomed appearance even today, led him to the bed, handing him a handkerchief.

Ricu’s face must have been bright red with tears. With difficulty and without much success he wiped it off, then sniffled into tissues. It helped. But his crying did not stop so quickly.

He allowed it as the other told him to lie down on the bed, pushed him into the position he wanted him in, sideways at first, then on his belly. And as much as Ricu felt the urge to ask why this guy was doing this to him, he refrained, staying quiet. This was not the moment for words. They both knew that this punishment had been the beginning, nothing more. It was time for him to accept that.

Not only had his attitude shifted, during that apparent demonstration of power, after which he almost didn’t mind what was happening to him: only this pain had to stop. Perception of his body had also changed, due to the blows. If it had been well to bear at the beginning, that had changed little by little. His skin had to be reddened, by now. Burned. And above all, it was incredibly sensitive.

To be ashamed of his nakedness, he now lacked the strength. And pulling the blanket over his somewhat sore body would have hurt more than it would have helped. So it became all right to stay stretched out here, flat on the mattress, after the other had put the pillow aside. And to feel how he began to touch him, this very skin that had turned so sensitive: from the neck along the spine, down to the buttocks, then, starting again from the top, with both hands over the sides.

It became intense, also because of this sensitivity that made him feel every little difference between tenderness and a punishing grip, stroking and a harder tug, amplified by many times. Still was there this trembling. And like that involuntary reaction, Ricu watched his body as if from afar, powerless as his whimpering turned into a moan while that stroking didn’t stop. Lustful and loud it became as the other leaned down and kissed him, on the nape of his neck, while fingers clawed at his sore buttocks, inseparably tying the pain to the caress.

Those touches, the caresses, became more insistent with time, more palpable, exploring his body more and more: not only the back and buttocks anymore, they also slid down his legs, between his thighs.

Ricu was puzzled by the fact that the other still remained nearly fully clothed. He had only just taken off his jacket, removed his shoes. But even when he pushed Ricu a little further into the center area of the mattress, knelt down on the mattress himself, on top of him, he remained fully clothed except for this jacket. So it was not skin that Ricu felt on his as he leaned down to him, close to him, and snuggled up to him, half coming to rest on him to kiss him again on the neck. With his lips then again wandering downward, down his spine. It was fabrics that touched him, textiles that felt rough and scratchy on his sore skin. Unrelated almost, despite the closeness that settled between them.

Fingers dug deeper into his muscles, in time. In his shoulder girdle, at first, where it was like a massage, hard and painful, under which he whimpered in turn. But further down his body it went on, to his buttocks, his lower legs. And there too, on either side, he felt those fingers pressing between his legs.

He was uncomfortable as the other began to kiss his lower body: From the back down, deeper and deeper. He acquiesced, at first, despite the reluctance that grew within him. But then, when his hand was grasped, his body rolled a little to the side, to guide that hand under him, along his belly, downward, until he could feel his own skin, cool, against his glans, it was too much for him. He began to struggle against the foreign grip, making every effort to free his hand.

Punishment followed promptly. In one fluid move, the other pulled back from him just a little, reached back perfectly incidentally, to his whip – and lashed it briefly and violently five times across Ricu’s back.

He gasped a little with surprise at the first one. But his skin had calmed down to some extent, meanwhile, was certainly still reddened, but hardly hurt anymore. Routinely, the other tried the same again: Once again he grabbed Ricu’s hand, led it into his own genital area. And again he resisted. Now, after this long period, which had remained pleasant for him throughout, and the experience just now, that he had also just endured the blows well, he began to seriously resist, and to fight against the other. Until finally he managed to pull up his legs, over which the other one just now had been half kneeling and half lying.

Ricu turned to face him, and as he now tried to sit on his butt again, he became painfully aware that there would probably be marks at least on that spot. And that perhaps a beating there was also something he’d better not risk. Sitting hurt.

His counterpart, now facing him directly, gave him a superior smile. A smile that made Ricu feel: If he would not have basically agreed with this new constellation, there wouldn’t have been the slightest chance to gain even an inch of space from him.

Ricu continued to fight back in earnest as the other now grabbed his legs and lifted them a little, very effectively depriving him of the opportunity to use his arms to defend himself. He was stronger than Ricu, it was as simple as that; and even as he now just held on to one of his legs to grab his whip again with one hand, Ricu could wriggle as much as he wanted: there was no escape.

The whip hit him across the stomach, this time, and when the third one very narrowly missed his genitals, he abruptly calmed down considerably and stayed down before there would be an ‚accidental‘ slip in that direction. With the knob of the whip still in his hand, the other pushed him down, taking his head back a bit. Looking down on him from above in such a way that Ricu again felt provoked, challenged. And then completely caught off guard when the other leaned down to him, breathing a kiss on his cheek. Again coming to lie half over him, so that the weight of his body also made it difficult for Ricu to dodge.

There was an air of distance that he maintained, at that moment, that made Ricu feel that he was the prey in this game. And yet there was this urge, suddenly, that came over him, in this touch, in this feeling that this was a game, by all means, but one in which he had to do more than lie there and let things happen. All at once there was a fierce need to kiss the other.

It was Ricu who pressed himself deeper into the pillow, leaning to the side, pressing his forehead against the other’s head. And who sought his lips as soon as the one turned toward him, just a little, just enough for Ricu to reach him.

It began to return something to him, suddenly. Made him feel: He wanted this. And even as their lips parted, the other’s kisses traveling down his body, across his neck, across his chest, downward, that desire remained: He wanted this.

He didn’t resist any further as another hand wrapped around one of his, making him satisfy himself, slowly at first. He was aroused anyway, even before he started touching himself, and that too was an unfamiliar experience: this hand, a foreign hand, guiding him, imposing its rhythm on him, making this something completely different from something that would have belonged to himself.

The other’s kisses continued to wander, meanwhile. To his side, down his belly. Deeper. Deeper and deeper.

He came, and moaned heavily as one of those kisses reached his thigh, between his legs, passionate, poignant, more penetrating than anything he had ever experienced. That something that emanated from that kiss gripped him, all his arousal, that high, the release he felt anyway at that moment, chasing it through his entire body. Up until he could feel it, in every pore, in his chest, his nipples, his legs. All the way to the tips of his toes and fingers. He moaned, he trembled, he shook. And he felt, even that, all of that was not his own, as he again felt lips on his. Lips that tasted of salt and blood. And to which he was surrendered totally.

To whom he, everything about him, at this moment… belonged with absolute devotion.

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