Scar Tissue

Kim Chaewon is not like other girls.

See, Kim Chaewon likes whips.

Whipped vanilla ice cream, sure, but also the kind that cracks against her ass.

Sometimes, Kim Chaewon also likes soft serve, but she never likes softness in bed. Which is lucky, given that your idea of foreplay consists of a riding crop and candle wax, rather than roses and candlelight. It’s nice of you, really, to match her freak. It’s better for both of you if you’re both whacked-out and weird. She looks more put together than you do: she looks the way a perfect girl should, but under those designer jeans are scars. You like running your lips over them, over the crinkles of where her skin once splintered. Her eyes grow large when she sees the marks on her body, and her lips stretch into a smirk.

Now, there’s this little thing she told you once, somewhere between your lips on her body and her fingers raking your face, so, here it is—a recap.

“Love is for losers,” said Kim Chaewon. Then she pulled you into a kiss, one that brokered no argument. You weren’t about to argue, because why would you? Love is for losers.

And there’s no denying that this girl has a reputation; you knew that well before you started burying your head between her legs or flogging her until she’s sobbing your name. She doesn’t do strings, only ropes, cuffs and chains. This girl fucks—hard and fast—and whatever the rules, she breaks them. Kim Chaewon does a whole lot of things. But what she does best is this: she chews a person up and spits them out when she’s done with them.

“So don’t go thinking this means anything. I won’t take your feelings seriously, so don’t try that shit with me,” she warned.

It seems funny now, that this warning—that what you have is shallow and physical—would be considered her kindest words. Should you fall for her, you’ll be fucking yourself. Funny, too, because it’s obvious you’re fucked either way. You’re far from special. Many have seen the way her back arches against silk sheets, and many will feel her lips on theirs. Some try to pursue it further, but all leave in the end with bitterness.

Her skin feels like sugar under your touch, and just as addictive, so you wonder: why haven’t you ended up like the rest? You’ve been doing this—whatever this is—long enough, and most of them would have feelings by now—a fact she dutifully reminds you of. It’s been countless times of rough, unhinged fucking since that warning, and you’re still going strong.

That’s why she’s here now, bent over on all fours as you trace the shape of her spine. She gives an exasperated scoff—'Why can’t you hurry up?‘—as her breasts press into the sheets. That was your fault. You love to tease and drag things out for her torture. You always insist on getting creative with the tools you can use for maximum effect. You figure that the more uncomfortable and degraded she gets, the harder she cums. It’s a working theory, of course.

She lets out a guttural cry as the crop snaps across her ass and her fingernails dig into the mattress. You set the crop aside and yank at her hair. Her breathing goes shallow and heavy as she presses herself back onto you. Your free hand slides between her legs—your fingers press into the soft, damp flesh, drawing a choked moan from her throat.

“See, I could listen to you like that all night,” you whisper, your tongue wet against the shell of her ear. Her hair smells faintly of strawberry as it grazes against your cheek.

“Harder, hit me harder,” she moans breathlessly. Her whole body is shaking and tense. She shoves her ass towards you impatiently and growls something that sounds a lot like your name, like a command, the way she’s always demanded your touch.

The riding crop cracks against her body, its surface marking red splotches then your tongue draws a line between the welts. When your teeth sink into her flesh, she flinches and shudders. Her ass tastes as good as it looks. You relish in the way her skin jerks under the crack of the crop as she digs her face into the pillow, mashing the fabric around her.

Loud cracks ring throughout the room every time the crop hits, the sound harmonizing with the choked sobs tearing from her lips. Each slap rings harder than the last, and the yelps increase in volume until her throat gives in and all that’s left are a series of strained whimpers and sputtered gasps for air. You like her face like that, scrunched in pain, and her hands clawing around the ropes binding them, red-knuckled and taut.

But she does her begging with her ass, wriggling and wagging as you make mark after mark, trying to signal for the next. That’s just the crux of it all, isn’t it? She knows how good she looks and how she can tempt you, with a swish of her hips and an arch of her back.

“Please,” she whines, breathless. Her hair is as messy as she is. She rubs her tits against the sheets, her nipples tight and raw. She squeezes her thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. “More, please.”

You place the shaft of the crop between her teeth and instinctively she clenches it. “Hold this for me?” you whisper as your run your hand over the sore skin of her ass. There are these few seconds of eye contact, while she waits for how you’ll punish her next.

You sink a pair of fingers into her cunt and she arches her back, pressing herself onto them. The moment they enter, she clenches around them, whimpering quietly around the crop. You set a quick rhythm and curl them forward—that gets her so worked up you swear her mouth almost opens in a scream. Instead, her grip on the leather gets stronger and her brows scrunch, sweat trickling down her chin and into the sheets.

You stand behind her, fucking furiously into her. Her eyes grow round as she shakes around your fingers, like a vessel containing concentrated pleasure. And you get her right there, on the edge, you’ve seen her body like this far too many times that it’s easy to recognise. Then you pull your fingers out and step back to admire the mess that is a needy Kim Chaewon.

With you nowhere near touching her, her face starts to dissolve into rage. She spits the crop aside and seizes up, pulling her restraints—tight on her wrists and ankles.

“Let me cum,” she growls, squeezing her thighs hard and rolling her ass, grinding up on nothing.

Now it’s just your hand, crashing against her skin and spanking her hard. The shake is glorious, ass flesh rippling and thighs wobbling. Kim Chaewon is pure heat, each tap sparking a new fire, sizzling between her legs, just waiting to burst.

More, she deserves so much more.

Now, what was that thing about whips? You uncoil it, feeling the braided handle in your palm and squeezing it tight. With a flick of the wrist and a crack, the whip bites into her skin. She flinches and whimpers, hips jumping, her head rising up from the sheets in pleasure. You know how it feels, the impact numbing the spot before the pain, the burning agony. Another snap. Her body rocks forwards, straining. Another crack, this time on her thighs.

See, Kim Chaewon likes whips.

Chaewon is so tense—so expectant—waiting for the next, not that it ever arrives. Her head swimming in the pain, she doesn’t know what you have planned, but 30 seconds and a good slathering of lube later and you’re pushing a bead into her ass. A furiously sharp intake of air; her shoulders and back go rigid. She pulls against her bonds as you ease the string of beads into her, her ass snatching at each one hungrily. Each one is just a little wider than the next, forcing her open each time.

By the time the last of the beads is inside of her, she’s rocking against her bonds again. She feels so full and every movement of her body—even the smallest quiver—has her losing her mind. Just one look glance over her shoulder and her eyes tell the story. She wants to be fucked.

Her thighs tremble uncontrollably as she clenches her jaw. Her eyes burn into yours as she gives a raw growl. You slither your hand up between her thighs. Her cunt is weeping, the beads stuffed in her ass threatening to spill out.

Your thumb settles on her clit, rubbing circles around it with growing vigour. She writhes around on the mattress, throwing her ass upwards. The begs are frantic as she rubs her clit up against the slick pad of your thumb.

It’s not enough. A high whine. A whisper of your name. “Harder.” She moves around frantically, and you just barely rub her harder. Not quite enough, still, she groans, tears slipping past her lashes as her heart beats out of control. “Fuck me,” she hisses, struggling to think anything but that.

Through all of this, the idea was to work Kim Chaewon up well, tease her and hurt her until her mind went wild. You keep telling yourself this, it’s the reason you’re edging her like this—you just wanted to see how far you could push her before she snapped—but even your own body is reacting to her moans. You want her. In the dirtiest of ways. You’re sweating a lot more than you thought. You’ve become aroused not just by the sound of the leather snapping across Kim Chaewon’s ass and the choked little gasps coming from her throat. It’s a wonderful effect that Kim Chaewon can produce on you.

You might well need to cum as much as she does. Maybe you should reward yourself and do her too. Maybe the teasing should come to an end. You curl the whip around her neck and wrap it firmly, and she knows what’s coming next, that knowledge lighting up her eyes like fireworks in the night sky. You yank it back and she moans. Right now feels just right—to fuck her and be fucked. To cum and to make her cum. To share in a moment of weakness and indulgence.

Fuck Kim Chaewon as she deserves. Strike her ass with your palm as you pound her. Watch as she struggles so full of cock, full of beads and so full of pain. And she will scream.

Scream your name right as she cums. She does that a lot, so you know it’s inevitable.

Then, you will cum too, right over her reddened ass, and maybe after, you’ll whip her one more time—for good measure.

Because Kim Chaewon is not like other girls.

See, Kim Chaewon likes whips.