No one took to pain so beautifully as Gabriel did. His tolerance was admirable, his pain threshold staggering. Paul knew this was hardly anything to him, a few swats on the butt was not something to get excited over, merely a warm up, but Gabriel's squirming was not for show. Paul knew he was grateful simply because of the fact that it was Paul that held the whip. He was always desperate for any touch, light or hard, indulgent or dissatisfying, as long as it was Paul.<br/><br/>"Count them..." Paul said dispassionately as he watched Gabriel breathe into the sheets, already relaxing for the next strike. The marks bloomed bright red against his pale skin, and Paul was intent on spreading that lovely shade until it covered the entirety of Gabriel's ass.<br/><br/>He began the spanking in a staggering rhythm. Sometimes he waited for Gabriel to recover before landing the next blow, sometimes he did it in quick succession, two or three at a time so he could not catch his breath. Sometimes he made Gabriel wait long, uncomfortable stretches, so long that the boy would start to fear that it was over, that they were done, before hitting him once more.<br/><br/>Paul never hit the same place twice, carefully placing each mark beside each other, not a single one overlapping. By strike 10 Gabriel's bottom reminded Paul of a Rothko, swaths of blotchy shades of pink and red blending into the pale white. It must have been smarting and Paul was tempted to grab that stinging ass, to cruelly press his fingers into the pain but Gabriel still had not earned his touch. Not yet.<br/><br/>"Thank me," he reminded, almost lazily.