Chapter 35
Tommy
I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but by the time I get back to Young-gi’s penthouse to wait for him, I’m horny as fuck.
Maybe it’s the idea that Kira planted in my head, about being with him in the open and not needing to hide it anymore.
Maybe it’s the fact that Young-gi is “taking care” of Tyler right now, making the blackmailer disappear, one way or another. I didn’t ask how he was gonna do it, it’s more fun to imagine. Gives me the shivers, makes my dick hard.
Okay, so maybe I’m just a sick, horny bastard. Who knows?
I only have to wait like half an hour, but by that time I’m so desperate I even consider masturbating despite knowing I can’t get myself off.
For the first time ever, my dick is hard and I’m not freaking out, because as soon as I start feeling queasy about it, I remember all the things Young-gi has done to me, with me, and I feel better.
It’s not easy, no way. I do lose it once or twice but the wobbly feelings manage to right themselves faster than they used to.
It’s not a cure, it’s a dependency, but I don’t mind. Neither does he. He wants it this way.
The front door opens, and Young-gi walks in to see me sitting impatiently on the couch. I pop up onto my knees, trying really hard to hide the fact that I’m going insane for him. I hide my rock-hard dick behind the back of the cushions because my sweatpants are not hiding it.
“What’s that?” I ask, looking at the unmarked black bag in his hand. It looks like a shopping bag, but brandless and small and with tissue paper covering whatever’s inside.
“A present for you.”
I blink, my mind stutters. I look back at the bag, at a loss for words. My throat closes and I clear it hard, because I need to stop being such a crybaby.
But other than the guy who took me giving me presents as an apology or a bribe, no one’s ever…not since then has anyone…
Like a real gift like this? In a pretty package? Other than putting people in boxes for me, this is the first time Young-gi has surprised me like this. I’m floored.
“For me?” I croak out, not even horny anymore because I’m so goddamn close to tears.
Okay, maybe I’m still a little horny.
“Something to celebrate with,” Young-gi says, putting it on the counter, devouring me with his eyes like he can tell I’m turned on and emotional even without seeing my dick. “Tyler’s all taken care of. You never have to worry about him again.”
I shiver, want and fear and thrilled arousal spiraling down my spine. “Cool, um, cool.”
Cool? I almost smack myself on the forehead. That’s all I can think to say??
To be fair, if I say more, I’m probably just going to beg him to fuck me and I don’t know why I’m so nervous to, but I feel all squiggly and small.
Like asking to be fucked is basically asking for his undivided attention, and that’s like, vulnerable shit, okay?
I’m still getting used to being this new version of Tommy, the one that wants to ask for this stuff, the version of myself that’s brave enough to admit a need.
“So uh–” I try to think of something to say as Young-gi loosens his tie and gets comfortable after his day at work–you know, putting people in coffins. God, fuck, so hot. “Um, what did you get me?”
My mind supplies obvious answers like wine or drugs, but nothing quite fits that fancy black bag. I want to know, my fingers tingle already because I’m feeling grabby and greedy for whatever it is. I don’t even care if it’s something good or not. It’s for me.
“Something I think you’ll really like,” Young-gi says, his voice almost a purr. I’ve never heard him sound quite this smug before. I stare in anticipation as he reaches into the bag, rifles through the black paper, and pulls out–
“Oh fuck,” I whimper, clutching the couch tightly so I don’t fall over dead.
It’s a paddle.
Like to spank me with.
The handle has a soft leather grip, and the wooden end is thin enough to be light and fast but not so thin that it won’t be firm as fuck.
Young-gi holds it up like he’s examining it, but those slitted, heavy eyes are on me. “What do you think, Tommy? Do you think this will be a good way for us to celebrate? A good way for you to remember that I’ll always take care of our problems?”
I swallow hard, and a deep longing fills me from head to toe. I want him to spank me with that. I want it bad. But I don’t want to just give it to him, I want him to make me.
“You’ll–” I hesitate, breathy and nervous. I get off the couch and sidestep it, not needing to hide my dick anymore because he already knows. “You’ll have to catch me first!”
Before I’m even done talking, we’re both running. I’m racing for the stairs, intent on getting to a bedroom and slamming the door shut or something, but he’s hot on my heels. In my haste, I miss a step and stumble, losing time, and that’s all it takes for Young-gi to close the gap between us.
I grunt as he tackles me near the top, pressing my chest down onto the second-floor landing while my knees rest on one of the steps.
It’s a bit awkward but I don’t care because it’s so thrilling and intense and perfect.
I struggle, but don’t say my safe word as he wrestles my pants down to my thighs, further trapping me and inhibiting my movement, further embarrassing me and making me feel small.
The first crack of the paddle on my ass lights me up like an electric shock. My mouth drops open on a silent cry, my breath freezes in my lungs. I stop struggling and collapse into a puddle, bent over and ready to get my reminder.
This is a whole new kind of sensation. This is brutal, intense. It’s too much. I can’t take it!
I want it.
“That’s right,” Young-gi says, stern and biting. Another swat with the paddle brings actual tears to my eyes. The sting is real, the burn is beautiful, the ache is instant. I break out into a cold sweat, and everything inside me clenches with anticipation.
“Settle for me, sweet boy.”
“Fuck. You,” I manage to choke out.
Young-gi laughs again, laughs! Like a real one, and it sounds so evil and darkly thrilled that I almost cum from it. My dick actually drips onto his nice floor.
“I love your mouth, Tommy,” he says as he gives me another good one. A scream gets out through my teeth and he lays a hand on my asscheek, like he’s checking my temperature by touch, making me feel the sting and the heat. “I love the way you always tell me exactly what you want.”
He must be crazy, or maybe we both are, because I literally never say what I need or want, I’m always fighting him, always struggling against myself. But he told me already that he knows, he knows, that all I really want is to lose. To him, I want to lose.
“I don’t,” I deny, because Exhibit A, I guess. Me not agreeing with him or admitting to anything.
He squeezes my asscheek in his hand, his fingertips digging into the sting until I gasp. Then he lets me go and swats me again.
“You do,” he argues. “Such a good boy, letting me prove it to you, over and over again.”
“Prove it,” I whimper, more of a beg than a demand. “Prove it, please!”
He cuts me off with a nasty one, a spank across my whole ass that makes me writhe and cry out against the floor. I want to spread my fucking legs for him like the slut I am, but my pants hold my knees together and all I can do is bend my back and tilt my ass up in a plea to keep going.
I struggle and gasp for air as he expertly spanks me just enough that I’m on the edge of screaming my safe word but not so much that I actually want him to stop.
I’m lost in a headspace of euphoric pleasure-pain and I want him inside me so bad that I end up crying, my face against his shiny wood floor.
I need him to go on forever, I need to always feel this way. It’s all I am. No more ugliness, no more anger, just pleasure and safety and smallness and heat.
“Please, please, please, PLEASE!” I squeal the last one when he spanks me again, shudders running through me. “Please, Daddy, please, please, oh fuck, goddamn, please–”
He grabs me around the waist suddenly, and hauls me up to my feet. I’m too stunned and high and goddamn spacey to do anything but sag in his arms as he drags me down the hall like a caveman, with me as his willing victim. He rips my pants off, throws me on the bed, and positions me to his liking.
I gladly let him move me where he wants me: on my knees, my hands braced on the top of the headboard so I’m only slightly bent over.
“Daddy,” I sigh, my head falling forward on my shoulders.
My hands tremble on the headboard. My thighs are shaking and he hasn’t even started fucking me yet.
I can’t wait. If he fucks me from behind right now, with my ass as hot and sensitive and painful as this, every smack of his hips will be like getting another swat with that fucking glorious paddle.
“Stay here,” he orders.
I tense, not liking the implication that he’s about to go somewhere else. I turn to look but a very sharp spank makes me cry out and freeze in place.
“Stay,” he says again, stern and commanding and fuuuuuck, and he disappears while I’m still trying to process the perfect agony of the paddle on my ass.
I had no idea it could feel like this. I’m a slut for it, I’ll never not want it.
I’ll never not want Young-gi to prove to me that he wants me, to make me achy and sore for days so I never forget how bad I need him.
I’m so caught up in it, so overwhelmed by the roaring in my ears and my ragged breathing and pounding heart, that I don’t hear him come back up the stairs, or even come into the room.
But I feel him climb onto the bed behind me and let out the most pathetically needy sound I’ve ever made, wiggling and writhing like I can’t hold still anymore, arching my back for him.
“I’ve got you, sweet boy,” he says darkly, his voice close to my ear. I feel the heat of his body emanating against my back and I want to press myself against him but he’s staying just out of my reach.