12. Zane #2
I’d rather see him struggle to remain still as I rain lashes down his smooth back.
“We’ll see,” I say.
I retreat, going to the wall to select one of my whips. I settle for a medium weight flogger, and when I return, I let the leather tails trail along his skin.
This will leave beautiful marks on that pale skin.
If we were in a club setting, this is the part where I’d ask him for a safe word, but we aren’t within those constraints. We’re in my home, and this will be the last pleasure he’ll ever receive before I strangle the life out of him.
I take several steps away, then I lash out with the flogger, letting the tails fall in a way that will sting rather than draw blood.
For now.
Hyacinth doesn’t even flinch. The most sound he makes is a single, soft inhale.
I nod. He’s not like one of the people who claims they can handle anything, then cry out from the lightest stroke of my flogger.
The second stroke is harder, and the third is harder still.
He relaxes into them like he’s done this before. Something inside of me doesn’t like the idea that he’s experienced enough to understand how to use the shifting of his body to amplify his pleasure and reduce the chance of being injured unduly.
Not that I don’t plan on injuring him before the night is out.
Still, it would’ve been nice to have been the first.
“Good,” I tell him, my voice a low caress. “But this isn’t what you want.”
This isn’t what I want either.
Hyacinth chuckles. “I was just thinking that if this is all you can dish out, I need to find somebody else.”
“Patience is a virtue,” I drawl. One of the few I possess, really, for all that I don’t want to go slow and steady with him.
I don’t tell him to relax into the next blow, which lands with considerably more force. I don’t want this to be over soon, with a handful of strikes, but at the same time… I want to see blood running down his back.
It leaves a raised welt on his skin.
Hyacinth shudders and lets out a long, low groan.
My blood thunders in my veins, the need threatening to make my movements sloppy.
I’m never sloppy.
What is it about Hyacinth Cuore that’s getting to me like this?
He’s not like Colt, or any of the others I’ve done this with. The fact that he’s submitting, knowing his death is on the horizon, is as intoxicating as any drug.
I strike again, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room, then I hum as I examine my handiwork. He’ll bruise from the first few, but it isn’t enough.
I go harder.
I will drive more sounds from him by the end of the night.
It’s more difficult than I expected, though, and I realize I don’t know what I thought he would be like. For him to act out like a brat, to taunt me when I don’t hurt him enough? To yield instantly despite his bravado?
Either way, he’s acting like a beautifully masochistic submissive, one I could see myself returning to again and again.
Dangerous thoughts.
The sounds he makes are musical, all soft moans with the occasional groan peppered in, and I lay my strikes more heavily each time until I finally break skin.
It isn’t enough to make him bleed, not yet, but it’s a step in the right direction.
He writhes against the cross, inviting me to continue without uttering a word, and I oblige him in a silent language wrought of pleasure and pain.
One after another, I lay one strike across the next as I cross them, until trickles of blood are slowly seeping from the cuts I’ve left behind.
I should check in with him, like I would if we were in public.
I strike him again instead, with more strength behind the blow, and watch his reactions.
Hyacinth lifts his head back and moans loudly. His body shifts forward subtly, almost breaking stance.
I lower the whip and step to the side so I can see his face better.
My breath catches in my throat when I see his erection pressed against the cross.
He’s perfect.
It’s all I can do not to drop my pants and fuck him right now, forcing my cock into his hole over and over again.
Did he prepare his hole before he came here? Will he be tight or loose and ready for me?
Either way, I need to grab condoms.
No matter how much I want to drive into him raw.
I reach around and stroke his cock, squeezing tightly as I press up against his back.
This is the only time I’ll have this chance.
I should indulge myself.
“How many orgasms should I give you before I choke the life out of you?” I murmur into his ear, feeling calmer in the wake of so many lashes, in the wake of seeing blood slide down his back and onto his ass. “Have you decided?”
Hyacinth tilts his head at me, lips parted and pupils wide. “At least one, I said. But if you kill me now, I can’t stop you.”
“No,” I agree. “You can’t. Yet you came here anyway.”
I can’t kill him without feeling the tight stretch of his ass around me at least once.
I move away from him, going to the drawer where I keep condoms and lube, then return to him. “Can you come from being fucked?”
Hyacinth smiles and gives a small shake of his head. “Not usually.” The languid expression drops, and he averts his gaze. “Fuck me anyway.”
I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m that much better than his previous partners, but…
Oh, hell. Yes, I am.
“We’ll see what happens, then,” I tell him. I slip out of my clothes and drop them to the side, then slick up my fingers so I can slide two into his ass. He’s every bit as tight and hot as I’d expected, and next time, I’ll tell him to come prepared.
Except there won’t be a next time.
Hyacinth knows how to relax his body into the sensations, drawing my fingers inside him expertly. I feel him shiver when my fingers brush up against his prostate, and I press harder.
He groans and lifts his hips to get more of the sensation.
“Good,” I murmur, stroking that spot for several long seconds.
Normally, I’d add another finger, focused on stretching my partner out. But as languid as he feels against the cross, and with the residual emotions of the evening still driving me, I don’t want to go easy on him.
Instead, I rip open the condom and toss the wrapper aside before sliding it onto my cock. I rub the head against his hole, and I offer no warning before starting to push inside of him.
I groan at the sensation, which is even more intense around my cock than it had been around my fingers.
Hyacinth groans loudly and spreads his legs wider for me. His long hair clings to his bloodied back, the bleached strands soaking up the red.
“More,” he whispers. “Please.”
“I’ll give you more when I’m ready,” I tell him.
Despite the words, I force more of my cock into his vise-like hole, groaning at the sensation of his ass clutching it. I keep going until I’ve bottomed out, my hands going to his wrists and shoving him harder against the unyielding wood of the cross.