Chapter 32 #2
If someone said it was easy, they didn’t have as much experience with impact as they were leading you to believe.
“Daddy!”
“To be clear,” he rumbled, “that’s not a safeword, darlin’.”
It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t pose it as such. No, he just focused on delivering the next four hits, each harder, sharper than the next.
I gave him my color while my entire self was consumed by the heat blooming, the deep burn that would become a medley of colors and broken vessels.
With each hit, tension left more of my body.
I didn’t disappear—I was here, grunting and gritting my teeth every time the leather hit my skin—but parts of me did.
The parts that kept me away from this, that hindered my search for the few things that made sense, that stirred me back alive.
The knots at the end of each strand were a reminder.
It was a new sensation, one I’d work to catalogue once I wasn’t ambushed by them every few seconds.
They felt heavy. Heavier than I’d thought.
It was like a regular flogger being followed by a paddle that had some kind of spiked attachment.
Theoretically, I knew it was only leather.
My brain wasn’t catching on to it, though, the weight and texture of the braided leather disorienting enough that making sense of it became something I couldn’t spend more energy on.
That energy was needed to absorb each hit, each strand that fell against my skin with the intention to break it, to leave a kind of mark that went beyond the superficial.
“Color, darlin’?”
Shit.
Lost track of time.
I blinked, that disorientation manifesting as a fog around my head.
My body burned.
I felt myself trembling, sweat beading down my hairline. My body convulsed when I parted my lips with the intent to give an answer.
It was fine.
I just needed another second. A deeper breath to get me back on track.
This wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with before.
As much as my body didn’t belong to me—not in the ways that mattered—I was in control here.
I cleared my throat. “Yellow, Daddy.”
I wanted to take more, wanted to swim deeper into the fog surrounding me. But I knew my limits, too. I knew the responsible thing to say, even when it wasn’t necessarily the fun thing to say.
Saúl moved closer. Glancing backward showed him draping the flogger over the bench, a few inches beside me. He placed his hands on my lower back, massaging the area that hadn’t been hit but had taken a workout too from holding on to the position he’d placed us in.
“You’ve done amazing, darlin’ boy.” His voice was so raspy, so warm, so fucking soothing, it had a tear streaming down my cheek and falling to the floor. “You’re perfect.”
I gasped. Panted? I didn’t know.
It didn’t matter.
I didn’t think it did.
No one had ever said I was perfect.
No one had sounded so fucking honest when they praised me, either.
“Um. Daddy?”
I blinked hard. It was bad enough he’d already seen me cry more times than most people who had known me since I was in diapers that had nothing to do with kink.
I had sort of made my peace with the fact that I cried more often and more easily than most men around me, even other queer men who pretended to have deconstructed themselves more than they’d actually had. It didn’t mean I was its biggest fan.
It was different when someone asked me for it, when it was someone’s kink, and I didn’t have to consume myself with thoughts on whether it was right or not. Too much or not.
I sucked in a lungful of air, shaking the thoughts away before this turned in the opposite direction of where I wanted it to go.
“I’m here, darlin’.”
He was.
I knew he was, and it wasn’t only because of the soft patterns he was drawing across my lower back. I didn’t think anyone could ever doubt that Saúl would be there for them no matter what.
If I focused too much on it, though, more waterworks would come.
“Fuck me?”
It was the most bare, but the most desperate I’d ever begged someone.
I sniffled and cleared my throat before too much was bottled up there.
“Lift up, darlin’. Slowly.”
In my defense, I tried to follow the command.
Tried was the operative word, though. I couldn’t say I’d ever been too good at it.
The black spots weren’t a surprise, but they still made my heart speed up, panic threatening to grab hold of me and erase everything else that had flooded my senses for the last… however long it had been.
“Easy.” Daddy was there before I could let out more than a panicked whimper, strong hands on my hips pulling me against him. He absorbed my weight like it was nothing, and I didn’t have the strength to help him with it or do anything about it. “That’s it, darlin’. Lean against me.”
If I’d had any of that strength, I would’ve snorted because the idea that I was doing anything at all to lean against him or anything else was laughable.
As it was, I just closed my eyes and tried to even out my breathing while he carried me wherever he wanted to go.
Growing up in the sanctuary had done wonders for his muscles.
Like, they were the kind that weren’t there for show and actually worked.
I was a fan.
“I’m not going to sink inside of you for the first time while you’re bent over somewhere uncomfortable,” Daddy explained.
I mewled. My gaze opened to focus on the soft red lines on my thighs.
Ones that must’ve been caused by the bench when the force of the strikes pushed me against the wood.
I couldn’t say I’d been too aware of them happening.
“But I don’t have the patience to move us much farther. ”
“Huh?”
I swiveled my head to try and get a glimpse of him. Some D-types really liked to turn everything into riddles when us s-types weren’t at full capacity. Very unfair.
It made more sense when he plopped down on the leather chair behind the desk, dragging me down with him. The soft graze of his lips on the top of my head didn’t help it make sense, but it replaced some of the fog with the warmth that came from being cared for. I didn’t protest.
I protested in the form of a loud, unabashed scream when my behind was scratched by the hairs on his torso and the rugged skin I salivated over on the regular.
The fog dissipated with the physical reminder of what I’d just put my body through.
Shivers ran through me as I saw my knuckles whiten against the edge of the desk.
“Cam?” The same raspiness in his voice that had kept me together earlier let me loose now.
Fuck. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to break down crying, sobbing, desperate for air in front of him.
Not today. Not like this, after the first time he dared to try a flogger on me, after he’d said— “Are you okay, Cam?”
He tried to veil the urgency in his tone, the way he’d half lifted off the chair and pressed his hand against my chest, where my heart beat faster.
Did it count as beating faster when that was its normal pace?
Fuck.
“Cam?”
The same urgency in his voice.
I coughed. It was a valiant effort to dissipate the mucus in my throat, the tears clouding my vision and keeping me frozen.
“Don’t stop.” I panted. “Please don’t stop.”
Was this what that Dom back home had meant when he said all I needed was a really good cry?
“Cam…”
It was a warning—I recognized as much. I just couldn’t tell what he was warning me against.
“Please.”
There would be hell to pay for my insistence later, but it would be worth it.
I just… I needed him—needed him to touch me, to hold me, to force me to stay present with every trust of his hips until nothing else existed again.
He was the only thing tethering me to the ground.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do if that anchor left.
“I’m not going anywhere, Cam.” It was a promise, one that settled deep in my bones, in the core of what made me me. “Breathe.”
I huffed, breathing still ragged. It was fine when I was the one telling myself to breathe. When others did, there was this weird itch to scream in their face or just break down crying. It didn’t come with him, but I didn’t want to wait for it to come either.
Instead, I turned around before he could change his mind. Or before I could change mine? Things were still fuzzy.
Ignoring the sensation in my protesting muscles as I straddled him was easier than ignoring all the prickles and needles from his front touching me. I usually relished that afterburn. I didn’t know what was going on, only that I’d really meant it when I’d asked him about how intense this felt.
It was overwhelming, and maybe in a few days I’d look back at it and cringe at myself because I was letting all the hormones wafting around us take control of my prefrontal cortex, but right now, nothing made sense except leaning into it.
“Y’know,” I sniffled, “it really sucks that you’re not big into dacryphillia.”
The concern in Daddy’s face was there, but it evaporated after my very artfully placed joke. A not-so-subtle shake of his head later, he lifted his hand to wipe some of the tears I was giving up on.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t break like this in front of Damian, or he’d be stealing you away.”
I chortled. “I wouldn’t have gone with it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Daddy.” My jaw clenched. The effect had to be diluted by all the tears and snot, and whatever else, but I didn’t care. “I love you.”
He didn’t have the right to question it when I was hurting all over and begging for his cock and crying because he had managed to unlock things no one else had before him, and I was drowning in the realization that I was way deeper than I’d ever thought could be possible. Or healthy.
There was probably some unhealthiness to this.
I’d worry about it later.
Now I just needed him, and he wasn’t getting the memo.
Was he?
“Easy, darling.” Neither did he have the right to sound so smooth and calm and reasonable with a dash of loving, while I was barely keeping it together.
Or to feel so soft when he leaned forward and kissed the skin over my cheekbone.
“There are condoms and lube in the top drawer to your left. You take what you need, okay?”
That sounded more like it. Yet I let out a mewl, dropping my forehead against his shoulder. No idea what was happening with my energy levels.
“You do it,” I harrumphed.
Did it sound petty? Most definitely.
The longer I stayed here, though, the more jelly-like my legs felt, and he was the one who had promised to fuck me anyway, so why did I have to do all the work?
I didn’t care that it wasn’t rational. I just wanted to melt into him and drown in the physical sensations again.
Daddy made a humming sound. I couldn’t tell exactly what it meant, but he held me closer, and he leaned forward, so it had to be a good thing. Right?
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, darlin’.”
Hmm.
I could get used to all the praise. It was like Daddy never got tired or out of things to say. I could never consider being a D-type to someone. I’d implode before I could get half of the required praise out of my mouth.
How did they manage not to make it sound cringe?
It was a mystery.
“Daddy,” I breathed out as his cock lined up against my hole. A hint of a hiss wanted to come out when it grazed the abused skin, but I held it in. The warmth of his chest was more than enough of a distraction. “Teasing is not nice.”
Daddy snorted. It was… Yeah, I liked that I amused him, but it wasn’t fair, was it? I was being serious. Just because my voice went smaller and I was struggling to actually use my limbs didn’t mean I wasn’t serious.
“Is it teasing when I’m trying to slather you in lube, darlin’?”
Oh.
I pursed my lips. No way I was going to admit anything, but… Yeah. Lube was nice. I couldn’t fight that point and risk the consequences.
My breath hitched. Now that I knew what to look for, I noticed the gooey texture on the tip of his covered cock as he spread it around my hole.
“Faster, Daddy.”
No, I didn’t have anywhere to be, and I wasn’t in a hurry. There was no charge to the air that was making me beg for an impending release. I just wanted more of him to hold me together.
Not much to ask for, was it?
“Easy.”
He’d already asked me that, hadn’t he?
Well, props to me because he didn’t need to do it again.
Mostly because he started to stretch me open with the head of his cock, and I had no idea how some people could have so much self-control to go that slow, but I was more than willing to worship every inch of him for it. Every inch I could reach, at least.
Logistics were the absolute worst.
“You’re so good, darlin’.” Daddy grunted the words with each thrust.
Panting wasn’t the most articulate response, but it was what I could do. That, and ghosting his skin with my lips until he had my entire body stirring up with the kind of release that didn’t leave my body once the cum was out of it, and I was pulled into more of a trance state.
“Such a good fucking boy.”
I was pretty sure he said more words while he sped up his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm, but I didn’t hear them over the waves pulling me under, the absolute knowledge that I was safe here, that Daddy would be here to hold me close through every shiver that racked down my spine and threatened to overwhelm me with its power.