34. CHAPTER 34 #2
I mumble as best I can, and he rolls his eyes.
“Strip then. Show me your cute little cock, first.”
I tear off my shirts, but that’s the easy part.
Then I’m all thumbs and adrenaline as my shaky hands fumble with my jeans.
Carey grins. “You can’t even get naked without fucking it up.”
Spurred on by the humiliation, I yank off my pants and underwear in one go—my slippers getting lost somewhere in the chaos.
Carey takes his time looking me over. The heaviness of his stare is like a comforting blanket around my shoulders.
He flicks at my dick with his bare toes, and tells me how cute it is.
He steps closer, grips the back of my head and holds me still as he lifts his cock and mashes my face against his balls and the underside of his shaft.
His scent fills my nostrils and my tongue laps at the socks like I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs.
Then, like he can’t stand to wait a second longer, he rips the socks from my mouth and plunges his cock straight in. Not gentle, not careful, just a straight line from his hips to the back of my throat.
My lips tingle.
Carey digs his fingers into the sides of my mouth, stretching me to my limit.
I gag, spit dribbling everywhere.
He laughs and thrusts again, using my face like a toy, fucking it so hard I can’t do anything but take it.
“Fuck… You look so good on your knees,” he growls down at me.
His pace quickens and I hold behind his knees for support.
My hips buck on their own.
My dick leaks between us, desperate for even the slightest friction.
I think about how Eden would react if he walked in on us through the unlocked door, and the thought alone nearly undoes me.
My throat seizes, tightening around Carey’s cock as he rams it down my throat.
He pulls back an inch and cradles my chin, just holding me there. Exposed. Completely open. His dick still deep in my mouth.
I tremble with need.
He thrusts forward so hard I’m knocked backwards.
My hands are behind me and Carey is fully over me now, legs wide, straddling my body as my neck cranes to accommodate the angle.
He’s like a fucking monster.
I’m struggling to breathe.
With one hand I reach up and scrape my nails down the skin by his hip.
With his hands on either side of my head, Carey quickly pulls back. Panting, and with pupils blown wide, he glares down at me. I can tell he just lost himself, but I don’t care. It couldn’t be more perfect.
I stare up at him with glossy eyes, a swollen smile, and all the admiration in the world.
He smirks, “Cheeky bitch,” then wraps his hand around my throat and pulls me up to stand.
On his level again, but still under his control, Carey kisses me.
My spit is thick with the taste of his cock and feet, and from the way he moans into my mouth, he likes it just as much as I do.
He holds me tight against him.
He gropes my ass, his hips rolling as he grinds up, and for the first time there’s some relief for my starving cock.
His teeth nip at my lips and his hands grip tighter until his touch becomes painful. But it’s still not enough.
I break the kiss and rest my temple against Carey’s as I catch my breath.
With his hands still possessively clutching me, he asks, “You ready to really embarrass yourself?”
I whine and almost go limp in his arms.
“On the sofa… Knees on the rug, stomach on the cushions.”
Carey steps back from me, and I all but fall into position.
My dick is squashed against my stomach, and my ass is out, bare to the world. Humiliatingly on display.
Carey sits beside me and just stares down at me for what feels like forever before finally reaching out.
His hand is heavy as it passes over the top of my head to the nape of my neck. He repeats the motion, combing his fingers through my hair. Gently at first, then firmer into my scalp with each new pass.
His touch is so much warmer than I could ever be.
Then, just as I feel myself melting into the couch, he scrapes his nails down the length of my spine.
I hiss at the shock, then revel in the fiery sting.
This is what we’re here for, after all.
I don’t want calm and gentle, I want the pain wiped from my mind.
I want to be stripped of myself entirely.
“You ready?”
I look up at him, and nod. But then his brow furrows. “Yes, Sir.”
He smiles, running his thumb over the spitty corner of my mouth.
“That’s my good boy,” he tells me, and everything that came before this—the crash, Eden, my mother, the whole fucking universe—evaporates leaving just us.
Me, face fucked and desperate, waiting for my protector to pull me completely apart.
Carey slides off the couch and kneels behind me. I feel him raise one leg to hold me in place; the inside of his thigh bracing against the back of mine.
His left hand clutches the back of my neck, forcing my cheek to squash into the cushion, then, when I see his free arm raise, I squeeze my eyes shut.
He flogs his heavy hand soundly across my right ass cheek.
I hear the crack before I feel it.
I let out a shallow, shuddery breath.
His second blow lands directly over the first.
Then a third.
And a fourth.
He changes sides, and repeats.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the cushion.
My knees squirm against the rug.
I take sharp inhalations of air between every few strikes and groan through the exhale.
And Carey doesn’t let up. He returns to my right cheek and spanks me harder.
There’s no time for reprieve.
All the blood that has rushed to the site makes it so much worse the second time around.
It’s fucking horrible.
I can feel tears building behind my clenched eyes.
I’m not sure how long I endure it, but I know I’m not at my limit yet.
A tear rolls from my eye, over the bridge of my nose and down the other cheek.
Carey releases my neck to wipe it away. "Are you okay?"
I nod. "Please, Sir… Give me more.”
Carey shuffles somewhere off to the side, then I hear it, the sweet sound of his belt sliding out of the loops of his pants.
Without the barrier of his leg holding me in place, he strikes the top of my thighs instead.
The lash of the leather is brutal and heavy and so much deeper, but it shoots a lightning bolt of hot pleasure right to my core.
He does it again, then I feel his hand, like ice against my burning flesh.
His fingertips circle.
His palm massages.
Then the leather strikes again.
My hips jerk forward.
Brutal, then tender.
Brutal, then tender.
Over, and over.
Continual jolts of fiery agony temporarily ebbed by a caring hand.
I slip, sinking into the haze.
He sighs, “So fucking beautiful.”
I don’t react because the words sound sour in my ear, but as I look at Carey through hooded eyes I see him looking down at me. Not at my face, but at his work. At how perfectly crimson he’s made me. And the praise suddenly has something new blooming in my stomach.
He scratches over my tensed hamstrings and it burns like hot coals.
I hiss, but say nothing, and he does it to my other leg.
The top of my feet flap against the floor as I endure his new torture.
“Is that enough?” Carey asks, and I tell him;
"More please, Sir.” And allow my eyes to roll shut again.
Just as abruptly as before, he starts back up, the leather of his belt berating me with no pause.
No intermittent gentle touch.
No time to catch my breath.
It’s one strike, then a split second before the next. And I squirm through the bliss of it all, anticipating each new connection with tensed thighs and a buzzing that shoots straight up my spine then down to my throbbing dick.
This is exactly the level of brutality I needed.
There's no tension left inside me. I've finally been able to let go.
I’m drunk, completely intoxicated by this new kind of controlled, tangible pain.
Humping the couch with no shame.
Pure delirium.
My body jolts against my will.
My hands grip at the cushion as my teeth bite into it.
My hips grind.
I'm already at the edge and I don't care.
My body bucks more erratically.
I’m on fire.
My moans are incoherent filth.
Carey tells me I'm pitiful for being so turned on, and that's what does me in.
My aching muscles seize. My hands clench. My teeth bite. My toes curl.
Then I feel Carey’s body completely encapsulate me.
His cock firm against my ass, his stomach and chest flat against my spine, his hands holding mine as his lips press into my neck and his words fill my ears while I continue to shake.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Oppa… I can’t believe you came from that. ”
The wetness against my stomach is all consuming.
My backside and thighs are raw.
But the weight of him might just be the most comforting thing yet.
I go limp beneath him, a lifeless doll he could do anything to.
“Are you still with me?” he whispers, and I nod, because words are impossible.
It’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth.
I am present, but I’m not the same man I was an hour ago.
Nothing is embarrassing anymore. Not my current position, not my inability to control my emotions, or the fact that I’m falling in love with a man. It’s overwhelming relief. Carey has just given me the greatest gift I could have ever imagined, and now my body is my gift to him.
I stretch out my fingers, and Carey intertwines his with them.
He kisses my neck, cheek, and tear stained eyes.
I’m ripe for the taking, literally in position, but he’s not moving. He’s just holding me. Matching our breaths.
I wriggle beneath him, and one of his hands slips to hold my waist.
I rock my hips and feel the heat of his balls against my hole.
“What are you doing?” I whine, desperate to be touched.
Carey digs his fingers in until I stop moving. “I’m giving you a chance to catch your breath before I fuck you dumb. So quit being a brat.”
“No,” I say, and rock again, clenching my jaw through the sting of his nails.
“I thought you were being a good boy?”
“And I thought you were gonna fuck me?”
“Tek—”
“I don’t need to catch my breath. I don’t even need to be conscious when you’re done.”
“That’s not how this is gonna work.”
I rock again. “Why not?”
Carey holds my waist with both hands. “Stop it.”
“You just said you were going to fuck me dumb. So fucking do it.”