Chapter 28 #2
A crazed laugh escapes me as I rush back toward the lobby. When I hear the kitchen doors slam against the wall as Young-gi follows, I almost trip because my knees go weak.
I can’t wait for him to catch me. But I’m enjoying this too much to stop.
I’ve never been pursued by someone that I wanted, someone that I chose. I’m…overwhelmed.
Thinking fast, I duck into an empty conference hall, rows of chairs cluttering the space, but the stage is empty and there’s no sign that the room was being used before the evacuation.
The alarm abruptly cuts off, leaving my ears ringing. The sudden silence spikes my adrenaline impossibly higher and I pick up speed, running towards the stage. Right as I hear Young-gi enter the room behind me, I see what I’m searching for: an employee door off to the side–a backstage area.
I burst into it, thanking my luck that it’s unlocked, only to realize I’ve made a mistake.
The backstage area is dark, cluttered with presentation equipment, extra chairs, podiums, concrete pillars reaching to the high ceiling, and other shadows I can’t make out.
There is no red exit sign, no other way in or out, and Young-gi is too close behind me to reverse course.
Heart pounding, I throw myself forward into the dark and dart behind some stacks of chairs. Just as I settle into my hiding place, Young-gi comes in behind me. He pauses, and I listen to his harsh breathing. I can see his shadow on the floor in the rectangle of light from the open door.
“Uh-oh,” he says, teasing and almost cruel. “Looks like someone came into a room with only one exit.”
The door slowly shuts, closing us in the darkness together. My mouth drops open as I pant, trying to quiet my breathing. I tense when I hear a metallic crash. Needing to know what he’s doing, I risk a quick peek.
Young-gi shoves a music stand across the door and through the handle, barring it shut.
He yanks on it to test it; I can barely see him in the faint red light of the single exit sign above his head.
He makes a satisfied noise when he sees that the door isn’t budging, and I’d need to pull the bar out in order to open it.
“I’m taking inspiration from you,” he calls, turning back around to scan the darkness.
I yank myself back into hiding. He’s trapped us in here, trapped me in here.
“That was clever, with the doorknob upstairs,” he continues, prowling deeper into the room.
I’m trapped here. He’s going to catch me. I’m going to lose.
And I…I…love it.
Now that I’m not running, my dick is getting excited and I almost groan.
My legs shift restlessly, my cock aches as it presses against my briefs.
Why is this so fucking hot? Why am I so turned on?
Shame is throwing pebbles at me, trying to get my attention, but this is all so overwhelming that I can’t focus on that.
I’m living in the moment, brutally present and aware, and it’s fucking exhilarating.
Crawling as quietly as I can, I slink further into the darkness, carefully maneuvering between stacks of chairs.
He’s walking soft-footed, moving slowly, trying to pinpoint my location. I fall still, trying not to give myself away.
“When I catch you,” he suddenly speaks, low and menacing, “I’m going to fuck you.”
I put a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp.
“I’m going to give my good boy exactly what he wants.” His deep voice echoes and bounces around, making it hard to know where he is. “Because he deserves to feel good. He deserves everything.”
I shake my head silently, my cheeks wet under my hand, and blink more tears away. Why am I crying? Such a fucking baby–
“I’m going to explore you, take my time with you,” he promises, sounding closer. “Make you feel good. I’m going to find out everything, every way to touch you. But first…”
Holding my breath, I wait for the rest.
“First, I’m going to spank you. Not to punish you, just to make sure you remember this test I passed. To keep you sore enough to behave, just like you like it. Isn’t that right?”
I’m breathing too hard. Surely he can hear me? I try to crawl backward, trying to put more distance between us, and that is a fatal mistake. I bump into a chair that screeches along the floor.
Fuck!
Immediately, we both burst into motion. I jump out of hiding like a rabbit from a burrow, and run for the door.
I get my hands on the music stand, but before I can pull it out, his arms appear from the darkness behind me, pale in the red light haloing us, and grab me around the middle.
A small scream rips from me as I’m yanked backward, unable to help it.
I grip the door hard, overwhelmed by the experience of being caught, torn between really fighting or giving in already.
But he’s stronger than me, pulls me back, and the door handle slips from my desperate grip.
“Shit!” I arch my back, try to slow us down, but my socks skid on the smooth floor and offer no resistance.
He drags me away from my escape route, back into the dark.
I thrash in his arms, testing his hold, but he has me.
With a swift movement, he swings me around and pushes me against one of the concrete pillars that soar to the ceiling.
It’s cold and gritty under my hands as I push against it, against him, but he pins me there.
“Fuck you!” I growl, grunting as I shove with all my strength. I rock him backward, but he presses his whole weight against me, pinning me to the stone.
He has me.
“Got you,” he growls into my ear, sounding as out of breath as I am.
And I…go limp. I bite my lip hard, because for some reason, I’m fucking crying now, like for real, like a lot. Sobbing like he just broke my fucking heart, which is so stupid because I don’t feel sad really.
I feel so good, so happy, so confused.
“Ho-holy shit,” I blubber, shaking, weak.
“That’s right,” he says, kissing my jaw, my neck, adjusting his hold on me to be softer. Giving me some space from the concrete. “Cry for me. Weep for me.”
“Fuck,” I sob, covering my mouth with my hand, shaking my head, but I don’t even know why.
“You did so good,” he praises me, holding me up because I feel too weak to stand. “Such a clever boy, so determined. Didn’t make it easy, did you? I didn’t expect you to. But you made it real.”
An ugly sound escapes me, wounded and weeping. He shushes me, guides me over to a podium, and helps me lean forward against it.
“You told some lies earlier,” he reminds me as his hands go to my pants. “Now I’m going to make sure you remember the truth. Make sure it feels real, sweet boy. And I’m going to love doing it.”
I groan and rest my forehead on my hands, forearms on the grainy wood podium.
He pushes my pants down to my thighs, and I choke on a whine, because I’m so fucking turned on.
I can’t believe how hard I am, how into this I am.
I can’t believe that this is what’s burning into my soul, ripping me apart, blowing my walls and my inhibitions to smithereens.
“This is real,” he says. I expect him to say more, to keep talking to me, but instead he just cracks my ass with a brutal fucking spank and I jerk with a cry, flinch, gargle some sobbing sounds in my throat.
“Shit,” I cough out through the tears.
“Say it.” Spank! He gives me another good one, and I know I’m gonna be sore from this. And I love it, I’m looking fucking forward to it. I want to be sore already, want to feel the way his attention sits under my skin. “Tell me that this is real, Tommy.”
“This is–” I’m weeping, fucking crying. I shake my head. I can’t. Can I?
Spank! “I’ve got all the time in the world,” he purrs. “This is real. You’re going to say it. I’m going to help you say it.” Smack!
I jerk and squirm with each spank, my ass already stinging and on fire, my head spinning because I was already running for a while before this and now I can barely breathe. “Young-gi–”
Spank! Three quick ones, and then he leaves his hand there, making me feel the burn. “Who am I to you?”
“Daddy,” I gasp.
“And who are you to me?”
That’s harder to say, but I manage it. “Your sweet boy. Y-your Tommy.”
I should feel so stupid, so ridiculous, saying something like that. Because it should feel fake. But it doesn’t.
“That’s right,” he rewards me with a few more spanks, and I groan, loud and embarrassingly rough. “Are you crying, Tommy?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You’re so pretty when you cry. Will you cry again for me later, when I fuck you? When I’ve brought you back to our bed, where I’ll take my fucking time with you?” The way he makes everything sound like a threat is fucking slaying me.
“Yes, Daddy!”
“Shh,” he warns me. “We don’t want to be too loud here, sweet boy. What if someone comes in?”
My heart skips a beat and my cock jerks at the risk.
“Tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll take you back home.”
Home. Take you back home. Weirdly enough, that’s what finally breaks me. Calling it home, implying that it’s our home, my home, cracks me open inside.
“This is real,” I sob into my arms. “You’re r-real, I’m real, th-this shit is real.”
He immediately slides his arms around me, traces his palms up my stomach and chest under my shirt, and pulls me upright so I’m leaning back against him. He kisses my neck while I stand there, my pants still around my thighs and my cock still hard, his hands feeling me up as he praises me.
“Good boy,” he kisses the words into my skin. “Will you remember, or do you need this to hurt a little more?”
“I-I’ll remember, Daddy,” I promise, my hips shifting restlessly. “I want–I want you to–please.”
One of his hands reaches down and grips my dick, and I choke on a moan.
His other hand covers my mouth as he strokes me, gentle and mindful of friction without lube.
It still feels amazing–just enough to make me cry some more, not enough to make me cum.
Young-gi holds his hand over my mouth and makes me take it, licks the tears off my cheek, bites at my ear, teases me.
And not once does my shame come for me. My ass hurts so bad, it’s euphoric. I think I might be high on this, addicted to this. It’s everything I want. It’s what I need. Nothing about this feels fake.
“I’m going to take you back home,” Young-gi reminds me. “And have a little fun with this,” he gently squeezes my dick, and I nearly scream, the sound muffled behind his palm. “Ready to go? Or do you need more time? More of my attention right here?”
More torment is what he should be calling it.
But I get what he’s saying. And part of me is tempted to tell him to keep me here, to hold me like this, to let me suffer and relish the way I got caught, the way I surrender to him.
But I want him so badly, want to take him inside me, want him to play with me just like he said, and make me cry, whatever he wants.
“Take me home,” I rasp, yanking his hand off my mouth so I can speak. “Please, Daddy, take me home now. I-I-I need you. I need it.”
He knows how I feel about that word. I’m basically cracking myself open and letting him see my insides. Letting him see everything.
“Good boy,” he whispers, peppering kisses to my temple, down my cheek. “Good boy, Tommy. So brave. Let’s go then.”
He pulls my sweats up over my aching, hard dick. “How will we get back up?” I ask, my thoughts turning to the fact that I have to actually get back upstairs in this condition.
“It’s my building,” he says arrogantly. “I alerted my team that it was a false alarm, but to keep everyone outside until I say so. We can get upstairs before anyone else comes back in. Let’s go, baby.”
“So you telling me to be quiet was bullshit?” I ask, a little pouty. “We were never going to get caught?”
“Just part of the game,” he smirks. He links our fingers together, wipes my tears off with his other hand, and leads me toward the exit. “You liked it.”
His tone dares me to lie, but I don’t want correction anymore. I’ve been corrected, now it’s time for my reward, so I tell the truth. “Yeah.”
He chuckles darkly as he yanks the music stand out of the door handle and pulls me back into the light.