Chapter 22 #2
I came back to the present when Jude said, “Take a standing pose but I want you to look at me.” When I did, I shivered under his studied gaze. “Color for wrist and ankle restraints?”
“Green, Sir.” As much as my preference had evolved into me being the Dominant at home, a chill ran through me at giving Jude my safeword.
I felt nerves pouring off Jude as he was close enough for me to inhale his scent when he snapped the wrist cuff in place.
I considered saying something but then decided to wait until the flogging began.
I’d know immediately if he had settled. This was the first time that he’d ever restrained me to the saltire.
The other times were mild impact scenes, and I’d leaned over a spanking bench or had laid down on a massage table for a sensory session.
When he’d finished and my body was stretched out in an X to fit on the St. Andrew’s cross, he stepped backward and a whoosh of air escaped him. “I’ve never seen you more beautiful. Your body looks magnificent, your eyes are shining, and your semi-hard cock is swelling the more I stare.”
In a low voice but with no hint of nerves, he said, “I’ll try to do my best.”
Not allowed to speak without his permission, I only nodded. I thought for a moment, he was going to call me Daddy and that would’ve taken him out of his role as sure as anything.
He backed up and walked with a straight back to the table. I heard him pick up a flogger. “Color, boy?”
“Green, Sir.”
The falls swishing through the air in figure eights as he warmed up was music to my ears.
The footfall of his boots as he stepped within striking distance.
And then… finally… the first contact of the leather on my skin…
Christ, I wanted to weep and melt in satisfaction at the same time.
The lash landed with confidence. I hadn’t self-flagellated since Hawk had called me out on it so I was mouth-wateringly hungry for my skin to be raw, burning in pain while still begging for more. Because I would beg Jude.
He struck my ass cheeks and the tops of my legs, giving me mild thudding sensations. Nothing hard enough to have me making significant noises. Another twenty lashes and he laid the flogger on the table.
He must’ve selected his next tool because Liam said, “Jude, as you spread out to other parts of his body, especially as you use more advanced whips, remember the golden rule. Which is?”
Jude cited what Liam had gone over with him countless times. “Only target areas of the body well protected by fat or muscle. Hard limit areas are the kidneys, neck, tailbone, hipbones, the head and all joints.”
“Excellent, you’ve been a good student, Jude. But for the first time, I want you to stay away from his nipples if you decide to do his front.”
“Thank you, Master Liam, but for the first time I’ll stick to his back.”
Hopefully, since Liam cautioned Jude, he’d decide to jump right into the hard-core whips.
He had stamina since we both began working out and sparring at The Ring again.
I’d reassured Hawk that since Jude and I had been together I hadn’t engaged in self-harm.
However, I explained that I wouldn’t give up having impact scenes under supervision at Hard Limit and that Jude was being mentored by a respected Dom.
Hawk had conceded to us remaining members and had taken to sparring with me again.
He’d also mentioned that I’d never looked so healthy and happy, which made Jude blush a deep red and Hawk chuckle.
Sure enough, Jude had selected a single tail whip.
The difference with other floggers was that as the tail sliced through the air, the movement created a spine-tingling crack.
The noise was loud and people who drive cattle had used it for centuries, hardly ever striking their charges with the whip as the sound was enough to get them moving.
However, in BDSM unlike an average animal hide, which is far tougher than human flesh, people like me reveled in the caress of the whip that had the ability to turn lethal depending on the intensity.
My body buzzed in excitement of an impending orgasm when Jude asked, “Color, boy for a single tail whip?”
I appreciated Jude’s caution in telling me what he was using even though I knew he’d practiced for hours—I’d watched him practice. However, a stuffed straw dummy was quite different than his boyfriend. Wanting to give him a boost of confidence, I replied, “I’m very green, Sir.”
I thought I heard an exhalation of relief. I also knew that one ill-targeted strike and Liam would call a stop to the scene. But I had confidence in Jude if only because although he was acting in the role of Dominant, he strove to please me.
After a minute or two, he found his rhythm and I was beginning to feel the cutting sting of multiple strikes.
Even though he alternated between the left and right side of my upper back, my ass cheeks, and my upper thighs, I felt burning pain when he landed on flesh that had been hit already.
When he missed his mark and the tip of the tail caught my balls, I yelled, “Fuucck!”
Jude called yellow. “Ethan, should I stop?”
“No. Green, Sir.”
“All right but I’ll stay away from your upper thighs.”
“Thank you, Sir, but I’m fine. I’ve had worse. I was just caught by surprise.”
To Jude’s credit, after taking practice swings, he ramped up the power behind the thrusts and I became vocal with grunts and fucks and even, Motherfucker, that fucking hurt.
Sweat poured generously from every pore of my body and pre-cum leaked to the floor as the intense pain morphed into an exquisite bliss.
When he ordered me to count out the final twenty, I was a wet, weeping mess of nerve endings that felt on fire.
But I’d endured before and I’d do it again.
And Jude was breathing hard, grunting himself with each strike.
Counting down, he eased up until the final five when he rasped, “Color, boy?”
“Green, Sir. Please give me what I need, marks that will last.”
Jude dipped his chin and made good on his promise.
I counted with each strike even as the tears choked me and streamed down my face.
Simultaneously, my mind tumbled into another zone—subspace.
Or something like it where the droplets of blood that coursed in a thin line down my arm were the satisfying manifestation of freeing the world of reality where love didn’t abandon me.
When I whispered, “Five,” on a pitiful moan, I went limp and my head hung forward.
Liam helped Jude take me down. “Take care of him and I’ll clean up.”
“But it’s my responsibility, Master.”
“No, Jude.” He gestured with his chin toward me. “Your submissive is your responsibility first and always. No exception.”
My cock was so fucking hard, an angry mix of red and purple. But I also couldn’t walk without my legs wobbling. So, Jude held me by the waist, supporting me until he helped me sit on the bed. “I’m only half here. Part of me is still on the cross.”
“Then just listen to me, Daddy.” He held the rim of a water bottle to my lips. “Drink, and then I’m going to take care of the open lacerations.”
I let him continue to hold the bottle while I chugged, draining it quickly.
He tossed it into the recycle bin and then toweled me dry from my face and neck, across my torso and down the front of my body.
When he saw my dick, he slid onto the carpet.
“Lay on your side, Daddy, and I’m going to drain your angry cock of all its cum.
” He gazed up at me with hooded eyes. “After I suck you dry, I’m going to patch you up and then I’m going to take you home where I’m going to love you for the rest of the night. ”