Chapter 27. Florian
In the bedroom, the air between us had shifted since our return from the drive. He looked at me with that old desire I knew very well. Tonight, he would not be gentle. Tonight, he would claim what was his. And I couldn't fucking wait.
"Strip," he commanded.
I obeyed, of course, as I watched him cross to the dresser in the corner. From the bottom drawer, he got black leather cuffs and returned to stand before me as I let the last of my clothing fall to the floor. His eyes traveled over my naked body, slowly. I felt myself hardening.
"On the bed," he directed, voice controlled. "On your knees. Hands above your head."
I climbed onto the king-sized bed and positioned myself as instructed. Knox followed. He secured the cuffs around my wrists, checking the tightness with a finger slipped beneath the leather before attaching them to the headboard.
Then, he moved to the foot of the bed. More cuffs were fastened around my ankles, but instead of securing them to the footboard as I expected, Knox guided my legs upward, bending them at the knees.
He attached my ankle cuffs to the wrist cuffs, creating what I'd learned was called a diaper position, legs spread wide, bent back, exposing me completely to his view and access.
I felt vulnerable, displayed, my most intimate areas presented for his inspection and use. A flush of embarrassment mixed with arousal spread across my chest and up my neck.
“Don't forget your safewords. Do you understand, boy?” he asked, always careful with me.
“Yes, Daddy, I know.”
“Good boy,” he said. He stood at the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, his eyes dark with desire as he surveyed his handiwork: me.
From somewhere behind me came the sound of a drawer opening again, then closing. When Knox returned to my field of vision, he held a wooden paddle in one hand. My cock twitched in anticipation.
"You've been such a good boy today," Knox murmured. "Driving with such care. I think you deserve a reward. And a reminder of who you belong to."
Without warning, the paddle connected with my thigh. The sting bloomed across my skin. Before I could recover, a second blow landed, then a third.
“Ouchhhh, Daddy!” I complained loudly. He chuckled, amused at my suffering. "I thought this was a reward?" I whined, writhing as the spanking continued. "Is this because I called you a sap earlier? Are you avenging your honor, boomer?"
There was a pause, the paddle hovering just above my ass, and I could feel his glare. I braced myself for impact. "It’s because you have an unrepentant smart mouth," he said, and brought the paddle down with extra force. “And this is a reward.”
"OUCH, Jesus Christ…" I yelped. "I’m going to have to sit on an ice pack at class."
He kissed the stinging skin. "If you're lucky, the marks will last through your whole week's schedule. Then you'll remember who owns you with every step."
"I'll remember every time I try to walk," I muttered.
"That's the intent." His hands skimmed along my thighs, pausing at the backs of my knees. Then, he brought the paddle down again on my ass, over and over.
"Ouch, Daddy, please!" I tried to kick, but the cuffs held me perfectly in place, folded open and powerless.
"You're not really in a position to make demands, are you?" he said, and hit me again, loving every second of it.
“Daddy!!”
Knox established a rhythm, the impacts firm enough to build a deep, spreading burn. I dreaded the next impact as much as I dreaded the thought of him stopping.
I don’t know how long he had spanked me for, but I was panting, my skin sensitized and glowing, my cock achingly hard and leaking precum onto the sheets below.
"Beautiful," Knox murmured, his free hand smoothing over the heated flesh he'd just paddled. "So responsive for me."
He set the paddle aside, then I heard a bottle cap opening. Slick fingers probed between my cheeks, circling my entrance with teasing pressure before one pushed slowly inside. I moaned.
Knox worked me open, slowly, patiently. He added a second finger, then a third, stretching and preparing me.
When he withdrew, I whimpered, but soon felt something firmer, cooler pressing against me, the smooth silicone of a plug, slick with lube.
With gentle but insistent pressure, Knox worked it inside me until my body accepted it fully, the flared base nestling against my skin.
"Hold that in for me," he instructed, patting my flank as if praising a pet.
“Daddy!” I tried to protest. "This is the worst," I groaned, trying to wriggle out.
Knox's hand smoothed possessively over my thigh, stopping my squirming. He was smirking, amused. “If you don't stop bratting, I'll bring out the ginger next time."
I felt my eyes go wide. "G-ginger? You wouldn't."
He leaned in, inspecting my face. "I absolutely would. You'd look exquisite, wriggling and red. But for now, the plug will suffice." He grazed his palm over my ass. "Hold it for me, and I'll consider removing it before breakfast tomorrow."
“B-breakfast?!” I asked, shocked. I didn't know if he was playing or not. I was feeling so full with the plug in place.
The next sensation caught me completely by surprise, a shocking cold against the heated skin of my backside. I yelped, trying to squirm away, but the restraints held me in place.
"Stay still," Knox warned, his voice stern.
I realized he was tracing an ice cube along the same paths he did with the paddle.
The extreme contrast between the heat of the spanking and the cold was fucking insane.
Pleasure and pain was racing along my nerves.
Water droplets trickled down my skin, pooling in the small of my back or dripping between my cheeks to melt against the base of the plug.
"Please, Daddy," I gasped, unsure whether I was begging him to stop or continue. My cock was so hard it was aching.
Knox continued his torment, the ice moving across my skin until it melted away completely, leaving me shivering and desperate. Then his hand was on me, wrapping around my cock, stroking with just the right pressure to bring me rushing toward the edge.
"Not yet," he said sharply, sensing my approaching climax and withdrawing his touch. "You come when I allow it, and not before."
“I know, Daddy,” I complained. He smirked, daring me to say something else. I didn't; I couldn’t form a single thought.
This pattern repeated: his hands bringing me to the brink, then retreating just as I got close. Each time, he pushed me further, edging me closer to madness. The third time, tears of frustration pricked at the corners of my eyes.
"Daddy, please," I begged, my voice breaking. "Please, I need to cum."
Knox's fingers traced my shaft with maddening lightness, barely there. "Tell me exactly what you need, boy. I want to hear you beg for it."
"Please, Daddy," I sobbed, hips straining upward, seeking more pressure. "Please let me cum. I'll do anything… I've been so good… I need it so bad… it hurts."
Something in his expression softened at that, though still very dominant. "Then take what you need, my beautiful boy," he said, finally gripping me with firmly, decisive strokes.
This time, when I approached the edge, he didn't stop. My release crashed through me, my vision blurring, my body convulsing against the restraints with the waves of pleasure. I cried out.
Knox worked me through every aftershock until I slumped boneless against the mattress, utterly spent.
With careful hands, he released my ankles from the wrist cuffs, then unbuckled the leather restraints entirely, massaging each limb as he freed it.
He removed the plug gently, then followed with a warm, damp cloth cleaning me.
When he finally gathered me against his chest, I curled into him, my body humming with pleasure.
"Thank you, Daddy," I murmured against his skin.
He stroked my hair, completely content, his touch tender.