16. Tony
SIXTEEN
tony
“ W hat do you look for in a spanking, pup?”
I rested my hand on his lower back before I lost Jaime to more baser instincts. Part of my research had talked about the connection between primal and pet play for some, and it certainly fit my observations of the pup. Right now, though, I didn’t need him going with what his body needed. He could do that in a couple of minutes.
“Release. A blank mind.” Jaime furrowed his brow as he searched me out. “But also a test. A challenge that I can take it.”
I’d supposed as much. I imagined Jaime could turn everything into a test if he tried hard enough.
“Let’s make one thing clear, pup.” I pulled his head up to make sure he was focused on me and not wherever his gut was taking him. “As much as I appreciate a sub who likes a challenge, I’m the one who says when and how I put you to the test.”
His gaze grew hooded, pupils dilated. “Yes, Sir.”
I sucked in a breath. It was hard not to have a bigger reaction to the honorific. It wasn’t something I demanded of a sub unless they were into it, but it was clear the three-letter word wasn’t given with the same kind of teasing attitude he’d used earlier. It meant something now.
“That’s a good pup.” It took me a beat too long to offer the praise. I couldn’t tell if he noticed—and I didn’t bother to check the faces in the group gathered in front of us—but I noticed. This was supposed to be about challenging him, not me, and stripping him of the barriers he put up the rest of the time by adding an unknown variable. He wasn’t supposed to get the upper hand here too. “Can you think of anything else I should know?”
Jaime groaned, burying his head against the plush couch. I always thought leather couches made more sense, but Mónica—of all people—had vetoed the option.
Just because we had the couches by the bar area didn’t mean they didn’t see action, and leather was easier to clean than this. I assumed as much, anyway.
“Nope. I’m good.”
He proved it by wiggling his ass in front of me. I started to casually kneed his cheek with one hand. If he wanted a more thudded kind of pain, warming up the skin first helped. I started explaining that to the people watching. About half of them—the inner circle Jaime was part of—knew all this, and everything I was about to say, but the other half was a mix of new faces and people who came by the club often enough but stuck to the sidelines. The first group could bore themselves to tears for all I cared if it meant the second half didn’t end up fucking things up with someone.
Plenty of peer-reviewed studies might’ve proven that there was no correlation between kink and trauma, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a higher risk of creating that trauma with the way we played. Maybe not the big kind of trauma—the one that came from long-term conditioning or abuse, but even small traumas took a toll on the body. It meant we were more aware of the way trauma worked. At least, the people who mattered were.
Or those were the rose-colored classes I chose to wear when I engaged with the community.
Huh.
Who would’ve said I was an idealist?
I addressed Jaime before I could get too lost in my internal musings. While I’d distractedly gotten him ready, the poor pup had been squirming for friction and failing to be subtle about it. “You’ve been more specific than most when it comes to letting me know the kind of pain you like. As we discussed while we were setting up, I’ll illustrate the kind of pain you don’t like as much, but I won’t make contact on those swats, yeah?”
“Yes, Sir.”
We had discussed it, before I knew what kind of touch he’d want, but given he’d acknowledged the role his head played in not sinking deeper into a scene involving pain, I figured putting him at ease would help us both.
That part had been the least surprising about the things he’d revealed today. Jaime getting in his head had become glaringly obvious the second I started doing more than observe him. It was the reason he didn’t seek out Domms on his own. It was the reason behind all the back and forth, and why this arrangement with him worked best when I kept him in the right headspace and didn’t grant him the give to even choose if he wanted to pull out.
It was only a matter of getting him to see it and agree without giving in to that fear.
Back to the present moment, that meant I needed to keep him focused on his body and nothing else.
The first time my hand connected with his ass, it was harder than I’d usually go for when playing with someone new. Going softer meant he had more time to worry about the buildup before I got him to sink into it. I massaged the skin as I’d been doing, keeping an eye on him. Jaime had made a sound, a mix between a gasp and a groan, but he didn’t seem worried. He was not questioning what I was doing or how I was doing it. It was as much of a win as I was going to get with him.
I mimicked the hit on his other cheek before I checked in with him. “This force good?”
Jaime nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
I breathed out. It wouldn’t have been completely out of character for him to fight what we both knew: that he was into this. He wanted this. He wanted to give in and let someone else take the reins, and he wanted to go wherever that person wanted to take him.
I didn’t care how long he allowed the fantasy to last. I was going to be that person for him.
I didn’t explain that part to the people drawing in closer, but I explained the merits of starting lighter or harder, the difference between the angles, the positioning of the hand, from how high up to hit, and what each thing achieved. Jaime’s ass went from a light shade of pink to a deeper red. He kept seeking friction, too. Another day, when and if there was more history between the two of us, and more defined boundaries, I’d keep him still. I’d threaten him with a punishment if he didn’t behave.
Today, I let him. I sunk the pads of my fingers into the fleshier parts of his ass, reveling in his groans as I noted the areas where he’d wake up with bruises. I made sure to never give him more than a couple of seconds to ruminate on the words I was saying before the next hit came. I didn’t plan to overwhelm him, and that was the only thing his ruminating would achieve.
It turned out, Jaime had a higher tolerance than I’d expected after all his attempts to deny it.
It was yet another piece of the puzzle I’d have to dig into more. Later.
There was so much to do later.
Now, I ran a hand up his back until I could grab a fistful of his hair. It wasn’t so styled and put together right now. I thought I’d like the look, the physical evidence of the effect I had on the pup.
Instead, I found myself wanting to smooth it over, to give him back that pristine look he showed to the world. It was primitive, neanderthal even, but I wanted that pristine appearance of his. I wanted to know I was the one getting under his skin, but I also wanted to know he was my strong pup, the one full of stamina who was not going to let anything show.
“Can you move to straddle me, pup?”
It wasn’t a familiar feeling, but I wanted him to show his strength, to show he could move on his own even when his gaze was hooded, his face flushed, and his ass was sore.
I gave him two seconds to bob his head in assent. Another two seconds to move on his own.
I moved my hands to his ass right away, kneading and spreading his cheeks. Jaime sniffled. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were starting to get a shimmery quality to them.
“Color?”
“Green, Sir.” His voice was wet, but it was steadier than I would’ve thought.
“Good pup.” I raised my hand to hit his right cheek and left it there for a beat, feeling the warmth radiating and spreading across the skin. I did the same with the left one, noting the way his breath caught, the way he trembled, swaying toward me. “Do you want to try the other position we talked about?”
I didn’t project my voice when I asked. For once, it was a good thing that Erika hadn’t listened to me when I’d suggested microphones for the workshops. The question wasn’t meant for an audience, and I didn’t care about them hearing it and analyzing Jaime’s response to it.
“Yeah.” Jaime swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down. “I’m good.”
I watched him and all the ways his face showed what I was doing to him—what I was putting his body through. It was the determination in his eyes that sealed the deal and had me moving him off my lap and on his feet before me.
“Now.” I addressed the audience again. “When the goal for a spanking is release, pleasure, or fun, having a sub sprawled over your lap or in any position that allows for plenty of contact gets the best results.” My gaze flicked to Jaime. This part was supposed to be for the people watching, but I found myself lifting my hand to his jawline. There was a hypnotic quality to him I couldn’t quite put into words. “But sometimes, or if you’re that kind of Dominant, most of the time, spankings might be about discipline, punishments, and a dash of humiliation. And if so, you might not want them to get comfort from being on your lap.”
Jaime’s pupils dilated. He gasped. I’d discussed this with him before, even though it was supposed to be organic. Ev had had a point. Negotiating everything up here involved more risks. I’d left out the standard questions, but I had discussed the general idea and the structure of the workshop with Jaime beforehand.
As oddly natural as it felt to be with him, I had to remind myself that we didn’t have a long history between us. I might’ve been watching him for longer than I wanted to admit, but I didn’t know how he behaved in close quarters with a Domm; if he would say yes to the humiliation when I presented it to him mid-scene because he was drunk on endorphins.
It sometimes happened with a sub, and the last thing I needed on our already rocky foundation was to have him regret something we did after he’d recovered and the endorphins were back to regular levels.
“Get on the floor, pup.”
“Yes, Sir.”
It was good to know he recovered fast. His face looked just as flushed, but his voice had lost that watery quality. He was more graceful than I expected, too, as he moved toward the three cushions I’d strategically placed on the laminate floor. One for his head, two for his knees.
His back arched beautifully, the black rubber reflecting the light overhead. I’d always favored leather for myself—and to honor the history of it in kink—but I could appreciate the way the plastic-like fabric clung to the skin, covering while leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Now,” I said to the people watching. I caught a few with their hands under their pants and made a mental note to test the waters of humiliation further by letting Jaime know once we didn’t have an audience. “The thing about spanking is that it forces you to stay near. When you’re whipping someone, you can add detachment simply by moving farther from your masochist. Or by emphasizing the fact that you’re not touching them. It gets trickier to achieve that when your instrument is your own hand.”
With any other sub, I’d circle around them, build up the anticipation. However, circling around Jaime meant giving his thoughts time to seep through and sabotage him. With that in mind, I kneeled beside him, by his hips, and kept talking with one hand on him.
“That’s when mind games come into play.” I lifted my hand and hit the darkened skin. Jaime’s jaw opened in a half scream. It served both purposes. “There’s been no difference between the force I’ve used now and the force I was using when he was on my lap. But right now, your sub will feel more exposed, more vulnerable. They don’t have any way to seek friction that distracts them from the pain. They can’t easily reach you, even if they’re not restrained.”
Jaime’s breath quickened. I gave him just enough time to slow it down. “Still green, pup?”
“Yes, Sir.”