Epilogue - Isaac #2
“Don’t lie to me.” I keep my voice gentle even as a wicked smile tugs at my mouth. “Are you nervous, Jackson?”
“A little, Sir,” he says on a shuddering breath.
“You trust me?”
“Always.”
He doesn’t say it lightly, doesn’t give it away freely. So when that one word hits me, something dark and protective unfurls in my chest.
“Good. You’re always safe with me, sweetheart.
You let me know if you can’t take it.” I trail the cane down his chest, across his stomach, letting the anticipation build in the air around us.
“Because this isn’t about punishment. It’s about surrender.
It’s about the way you come apart when you let go, the way you take pain and turn it into something beautiful. ”
Lowering the cane even further, I sweep it up the underside of his shaft. He moans and shakes.
“And it’s about the way I hold you together when it’s over.”
Even though we both love what’s coming, that’s the part that matters most. The after. The safety.
The hands that hurt but also heal.
“Isaac, please…” he whimpers.
I suppose I’ve made him wait long enough.
Bringing the cane back up, I snap it against his chest. Not hard, barely a tap. But I’m familiar with the cane and know it hurts worse than the crop. Even a smack that light can sting.
Jackson’s back bows. “Ow! Shit!”
I chuckle darkly in his ear. “Change your mind?”
He pants and shakes his head. “No, Sir.”
“Good boy.” I place a kiss on the side of his neck. “Hands and knees.”
As I crawl backward off the bed, Jackson obeys, moving almost clumsily until he’s in position. I take a moment to appreciate his ass how it is now—round, full, pale. It’s certainly not going to be pale for much longer.
I step around to the side of the bed, lift the cane, and skim it over the globe of his ass, watching as goosebumps rise along his back. I want him to know it’s there. I want him to know it’s coming. At least for this first time.
The first strike is light, more sound than force. The crack of it against his skin rings through the room, followed by his soft, broken gasp as his fingers curl into the sheets.
I wait.
I always wait after that first hit, taking the time to study him like I would a complicated piece of text, searching for any signs or hints of true distress, a hidden or deeper meaning behind every twitch and breath.
Each one he takes registers like a metronome I’m tuned to.
I count them without meaning to. I watch the way his shoulders rise, the way his fingers flex when he thinks I might move again.
Eventually, his breathing steadies back out, at least as much as it’s going to.
“Color?”
“Green, Sir.”
I bring the cane down harder this time with enough force that draws a choked noise from him somewhere between a sob and a scream.
My entire body goes electric with that sound. It’s not only with arousal but something even deeper.
Pride.
He takes it like he takes everything else in his life, with his whole self. No shame, no apology. No shrinking from it or making himself smaller. He’s just open, breathing through it, trusting me to know where the line is even when he’s dancing close to it.
There’s arousal too, of course, especially when I see that first red line burned into his ass, growing brighter. My cock aches, so fucking hard in my dress pants.
But I ignore it.
Jackson needs my entire focus right now.
“Keep your ass in the air as long as you can, alright, sweetheart?”
He’s shaking, and I can see him wanting to fall, to sink into the mattress instead of holding himself up.
But it’s easier for me to keep an eye on him like this, to make sure his cock stays hard, the one currently leaking all over our sheets.
I trust him to use his safe word if he needs it, but if he drifts too far into subspace, he might not be able to tell where his own line is.
His head hangs between his shoulders, but he still manages a weak nod.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good boy.”
The next strike lands, not quite harder but placed with more intention, right below the one that came before. Then another right above. I adjust my angle. My timing. I’m not chasing pain so much as I am shaping it, turning it into something that gives instead of takes.
That’s where the real power lies.
After nearly a dozen strikes, his ass is that gorgeous shade of red that I’m quite literally obsessed with.
My chest heaves, and a bead of sweat drips down my temple.
Every one of those delicious noises he makes goes straight to my cock, and if I was fifteen years younger, there’s no way I would’ve been able to hold back from coming already.
“You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. Remember to breathe.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath at the reminder. Tears track down his cheeks, and I’m as obsessed with them as I am with his noises and the shade his skin has turned.
I snap the cane a few more times against his flesh until he’s sobbing again.
“I love the way you hurt for me, Jackson.”
Smack.
“The way you leak from your eyes and your cock.”
Smack.
“Making a mess of the bed.”
Smack, smack.
“A mess of yourself when you get so fucking wet like this.”
I start easing up, the next couple hits landing a little softer. But when the last one strikes, Jackson drops onto his forearms with a choked cry.
“Yellow!”
Without a second thought, I drop the cane on the bed and kneel beside him.
“Come here.”
As I cradle his head in my arms, his body slumps a little further down, and I nearly grin at the way he still manages to keep his ass in the air. I love how he’s always so determined to be good, but I also don’t want him to push himself too hard.
Tears land on my forearms as I lean down to place a kiss against his sweaty temple.
“You’re okay,” I whisper as soothingly as I can while my voice is still raspy and breathless. “You’re safe. You did so good using your color, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. My good boy.”
He sniffs. “I’m sorry, Sir. I just n-needed a break.”
“You never have to apologize for that.” I kiss the side of his face again. “Does that mean my boy wants one more?”
I pay close attention to his body, to see if any part of him goes tense at the idea. If he specifically asks for a break, it makes me think he’s not finished yet. His cock is still hard and flushed and weeping.
He nods, and it’s like his head is moving in slow motion. “I can take one more, Sir. And then…”
Turning his head a bit more, he peers up at me with hooded, glassy eyes.
“And then what?” I ask.
“And then I can have your cock, Sir?”
I smile before placing a soft kiss against his lips. “Of course you can, sweetheart.”
Standing again, I pick up the cane once more. His ass is so fucking red with visible lines across each cheek and the tops of his thighs marking where the cane landed.
My marks on him.
My cock gives a twitch knowing it’s about to be inside his marked ass soon.
I give him what he wants first—one last strike with the cane. I aim it in the middle of his ass somewhere between hard and soft, but with how much he’s already taken, it probably feels like a lash of fire.
He sobs into the sheets, gripping them with white knuckles.
And still, his ass is in the air.
“That’s it,” I say, letting my hand rest on the small of his back for a moment. “We’re done, and you did so fucking well.”
I drop the cane to the floor. As I move to the nightstand, I keep the contact, my fingertips skimming up his side as I take lube out of the drawer.
I don’t make either of us wait long, quickly crawling back onto the bed behind him, settling between his legs.
As I take my cock out of my pants, I stare down at his ass all fucking red for me.
I want to grab it and knead it in my hands, feel the warmth of those marks, but since he just had to use one of his colors, I decide to show him mercy.
Especially considering when I part his cheeks just enough to slip a lubed finger into his hole, he gasps and whines.
“Relax, sweetheart,” I tell him as I work a second finger inside him. “Sir has to get you ready to take his cock. That’s what you want, right?”
“Yes, Sir,” he whimpers.
“Good boy.”
After I spend a little time stretching him, damn near losing it just from the sight of my fingers disappearing into his tight hole surrounded by those red cheeks, I finally lube my cock up next and press the head against his rim. He squirms, knowing what’s coming.
Slowly, I push inside, and the moment my crown slips past that tight ring of muscle, I let myself finally give in to my own pleasure.
Only for a second. My head falls back on my shoulders, and I release a long breath of relief that comes out sounding like a growl.
I give a tiny snap of my hips, chasing that tight heat of him.
But then I quickly return my focus to Jackson.
His head lolls on the bed, and his hands are no longer gripping the sheets as tight as they were. I think he’s so deep in subspace now that he’s no longer registering the pain that I’m sure must still be lingering in his ass.
Gripping him by the hips, I slowly start to thrust. His moans are quiet but endless as I pick up the pace and settle into a steady rhythm.
Every time I snap my hips and our skin slaps together, his pitch rises, moans and whimpers coming out a little higher.
If I thought my fingers disappearing inside his abused ass looked good, that has nothing on the way my cock looks sinking inside him, all the skin around his hole pretty and red.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Jackson,” I say breathlessly as I fuck him a little harder. “You’re making your Sir feel so fucking good.”
He moans loudly. “Can I come, Sir? Please?”
“Yes, you can,” I tell him easily, already having decided not to edge him, not after he took the cane so well. “You deserve it after how fucking good you were for me.”
I can sense he’s close, so I grip his hips a little tighter until I’m sure there will be marks there too.
“Do you think you can come hands-free, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” he whimpers without hesitation.
He’s done it a couple times before, and the fact that he’s so confident he can do it now after I just wrecked his ass stirs something feral in me.
“Fuck,” I groan as my thrusts turn faster and harder. “Come for me.”
I know the moment he does because his ass clamps down on my cock, and I swear my vision whites out. I punch my hips forward one last time, my hands gripping his so hard I think I might break him. My release comes shooting out of me, filling him.
Everything comes back to me slowly, but once more, I make sure my focus is sharpened on Jackson first. He feels limp in my hold. If I wasn’t still holding onto him, I’m certain he would’ve already crashed fully to the bed.
“Give me just a second,” I tell him, my voice softer now that I’m completely breathless. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart.”
He makes barely a noise of acknowledgement.
Slowly and carefully, I pull out of him.
When I peer down…
“Fuck,” I breathe almost reverently.
He’s going to have to give me a few more seconds now because my cum dripping from his hole between his two reddened cheeks might just be my favorite sight in the universe.
Unable to help myself, I lean down and swipe my tongue through the crease of his ass, licking up my own release, tasting myself on him. Then I do the same to each cheek, hoping maybe my tongue can help soothe him.
He makes another noise, and I help him up the bed, maneuvering him so I can kick the top sheet away and we can both lie down on the one under it that isn’t covered in sweat and cum.
He crashes onto his stomach, his head landing on the pillow.
His eyes are closed, and I almost wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already asleep.
“Look at me, Jackson,” I say softly, brushing my thumb across his cheek.
He opens his eyes, though they’re heavy. But he still smiles as he peers at me with that beautiful green gaze of his.
“How are you feeling?”
“Perfect.”
I love it when he says that.
I call him perfect because he is, and I love making him feel perfect.
“Good.” I kiss him on the forehead and then grin. “Because you might not be feeling like that tomorrow. Your ass is going to be sore for days.”
“Worth it.” He smiles a little bigger before it’s weighed down by exhaustion. “Can I sleep now?”
“Of course. I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”
I lie there and hold him a little longer, staring into his sweet, peaceful face as he drifts off.
We both could use a shower, but I don’t want to subject him to the sting of water just yet.
Instead, I carefully roll over and grab the lotion off the nightstand.
I apply it to his ass and thighs while he sleeps, and he doesn’t so much as stir.
When I’m finished, I kick off my dress pants and settle in beside him, holding him close.
I’ll take care of you.
I meant those words, and not just for tonight.
I meant them forever.
He’ll always be safe in my hands.