Chapter 25. Liam
His voice drops to a low, dangerous tone.
"You know what happens to boys who can't follow simple rules, don't you?
They get reminded. Every. Single. Time. Until the lesson finally sticks," he says, pushing my sweatpants down, revealing my white briefs.
Then he pulls them down too and runs his hand over my ass.
He gets off on scolding me. Good thing I do too.
It's my favorite part. I take a deep breath and grip the armrests of the chair, bracing myself, and I'm so, so hard.
Ethan's hand comes down hard on my left cheek, and I yelp.
"Oh, fuck!" It hurts much more than I expect for a slap, and the burning is exquisite.
My face keeps reddening as he continues, harder each time. I feel each slap, but the burning is constant. I struggle to stay still, but Ethan holds me firmly. I squirm and wriggle, making pathetic little noises.
"This is for putting your future at risk," he says, voice low and firm, and fuuuuuuuck, I'm dripping onto his thigh, trying to stay still but failing.
He holds me firmer each time I move, and I love the grip of his hands.
"What were you thinking? Do you understand how bad that was?
You could have been sent away!" I moan and cry out, my body betraying me as my arousal grows with every spank.
Ethan's hand is tireless, and he isn't done. Not even close.
The worst part, which is actually the best, is that I've never felt more vulnerable in my life. I can't make him stop. I can't run. All I can do is stay here and take it. I squirm and cry out again, but he holds me tight, no signs of stopping, and then he pins my legs with his, trapping me.
"Ow, ow, ow, fuck," I say, and the tears start.
My ass is on fire. And I'm just tired. In pain, but especially tired.
I haven't felt this tired in ages. Like all the exhaustion of all those years on my own catches up at once, and I just cry.
Raw and ugly. But not bad. Blissful, the relief, the release, finally feeling him with me again. Finally not being alone.
He spanks me, over, and over, I cry and moan, squirm, and beg, and it doesn’t help, he keeps going, relentlessly, again and again.
After what feels like an eternity, he stops.
I'm panting, my ass stinging with every breath.
I'm desperate for it to be over, for him to let me up.
But at the same time, I never want to leave his touch.
I'm trapped in time, and everything that matters is my body on his body.
He stays there, rubbing my back, soothing me.
I stop crying, but I feel completely drained. Like he's emptied me out.
"It's okay. It's okay. Good boy. I'm so proud of you," he says.
It breaks me completely.
"I missed you," I whisper into his thigh. My voice is wrecked. "I missed you so much. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. I'm sorry for the weed. I'm sorry for everything."
His hand pauses on my back. Then resumes, slower.
"I missed you too," he says, quietly. "And I'm sorry I hurt you. I just... I was scared of losing you."
"You won't lose me, you idiot. You're stuck with me."
"Good," he says, and his voice cracks just slightly. "Don't do that to me again."
"Don't ignore me again, ever."
"Deal."
I press my face harder into his thigh. We're okay. We're going to be okay.
"You can get up now," he says after a minute, "but it doesn't seem like you want to. You're rubbing yourself on my leg."
I don't even realize I'm doing it. But he's right.
I'm grinding against his thigh like a pathetic little animal.
I don't feel shocked. I don't think I can feel any more embarrassed.
Like I've hit peak embarrassment. So, I look up at him, still draped over his knees, still feeling his heavy hands on my back.
Ethan doesn't move for a moment. Just lets me rut against him, his palm sliding up under my shirt, dragging along my spine. He laughs, and the sound shoots electricity straight to my cock.
"You really like getting punished, hmm?" he says. "Or maybe you just like me bossing you around. Or both."
The only sound I make is a whimper. My face goes hotter. My brain is static. I try to push myself up, but he grabs me, flips my body so fast I'm almost airborne, and then I'm sitting across his lap, legs straddling his thigh. He laces his fingers in my hair, tugging my head back.
"You want to cum, don't you, pet?" he says, and when he calls me that, I go feral. His smirk grows. "Answer me."
"Fuck you," I say, but I'm laughing. He's still smirking when he grabs my face, fingers digging into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.
"Answer me properly, or you go back over my knees."
I make a horrible, pathetic moaning sound. My mouth waters.
"Yes, Daddy. Is that what you want to hear?" I say, mocking, but his eyes go wide, pupils dilating. He loves it when I call him that. Not just likes it. Loves it.
"Good boy," he says, and kisses me.
The kiss is feral. He devours me, sucking my tongue, biting my lower lip, his hand still gripping my jaw so tight I can't pull away. I suck his tongue back, shivering all over. My hands go to his shirt, pulling at the fabric. I need to touch him, need his skin, need everything.
He reaches down and palms my ass, the sting from the spanking making the touch electric. I yelp into his mouth, and he grins against my lips, the hottest thing I've ever experienced, then bites my lip again and sucks at it until I'm dizzy. My cock throbs, so close to losing it just from this.
He lifts me. Before I can breathe, he lays me on my back on the desk, spreading my legs wide. He kneels between them. Not gentle. Rough. I love it.
Ethan opens a drawer and pulls out lube.
Of course he has lube. That fucker is always prepared, which is ridiculous.
He squeezes it onto his hand, coats his fingers.
I can only watch as I feel them between my cheeks, probing my entrance.
I'm completely out of control now. My cock is hard and throbbing on my stomach, leaking, red and swollen.
He slips a finger inside, twisting, stretching me open, and I gasp.
So painful and so delicious. I'm so full, and all I can do is make pathetic sounds.
"Hmmmpffff..."
I push myself toward his finger, fucking myself on it. He chuckles and fingers me harder, two fingers now, stretching, scissoring, then three. I moan, sob, beg, cry, almost coming just from his fingers. I am a needy little slut, have always been.
"So hungry for me," he says. Low. Controlled. Even now.
My heart pounds. My mind is chaos. He keeps going, deeper, and I don't stop him.
He pulls his fingers out. I groan. I want more. I want his cock. He stands, turns me over so I'm on my stomach on the desk, and I look back at him, eyes pleading. Ethan hardly ever looks this amused.
I watch him unbutton those ridiculous khaki pants, revealing his erection.
Big, swollen, leaking. My mouth waters. I've waited so long for this.
This motherfucker took forever to even kiss me.
I want him inside me now. I wish I could tell him, but all I can make are sounds I didn't know existed in me.
He spreads my cheeks and I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance, pushing in slowly.
"F-f-f-fu-fuuuuck..." I moan, eyes closed, seeing stars. I shudder, but I'm so turned on it only feels good. "Go deeper, Ethan."
He laughs. Having the most fun I've ever seen him have.
"I don't want to hurt you, pet."
"Do it. Fuck, just do it, please." He does. Keeps going deeper, and I make these sounds, not caring if someone hears us through the door. "Call me pet again."
"You like that, pet?" he says. "Demanding, aren't you? Maybe I should make you call me Daddy again. Make you beg."
"Oh fuck, fucking hell… please, Daddy, please!"
"Please what?"
He starts pumping. I lose the ability to speak, to think.
The stretch is ridiculous. My fingers claw at the wood of the desk, nails scraping, looking for something to hold on to.
All I can do is moan, mouth open, eyes shut.
My thighs are shaking against the edge of the desk, and I can feel the sweat pooling in the dip of my lower back.
He spanks me when I don't answer, and the sting layers on top of everything else.
I yelp and jump, but he keeps thrusting, one hand pressing down between my shoulder blades, pinning me flat.
"Answer me when I ask you a question."
"Fuck, sorry. Please keep going, Daddy, please." I'm not even embarrassed calling him that. I love it. I thought it might be weird, but it isn't. It's hot.
"Good boy," he mutters, going deeper. I moan and push back, meeting his thrusts.
He stretches me beyond what I thought possible, filling me entirely.
The burn is ridiculous but so good. I can feel every inch of him, the slow drag when he pulls back, the sharp fullness when he pushes in.
My cock is trapped against the desk, leaking, throbbing with every thrust, and the friction is almost enough to make me cum right there.
"You like this, pet? Being taken like this?"
"Oh, fuck yes. Yes, I do." He smiles. Reaches down and grabs my hair, pulling me up, arching my back, turning my head to kiss him.
Our lips meet, tongues intertwine, and his other hand wraps around my throat, not squeezing, just holding, his thumb against my pulse.
I can feel my own heartbeat hammering against his fingers. Unlike anything I've ever experienced.
We stop kissing. He pushes me back down, chest flat against the desk, and keeps thrusting.
The wood is cool and slick with my sweat.
It hurts, but it's also the best thing I've ever done.
I've fucked many times before, but nothing felt like Ethan.
Next to this, every other fuck I've had felt like a math class: boring, stupid, stressful.
"You're driving me wild," I gasp. "Please don't stop, Daddy, please."