JUSTIN'S POV
The world seems to dissolve when he wants you, when he invites you with a quiet smile to lie across his lap. He told you in the shower that morning that is where you’d be. He’d just fucked you, hard against the wall, “When I get home tonight, I’m going to spank you.” Feeling him behind you, pinning you while he made promises to you had gotten your day off to a very nice start.
All day long, every time you thought about what he was going to do, you had to will yourself not to get hard, not to pick up the phone and call him just to hear his voice.
And being spanked is an unbelievable experience, but it’s not the only thing that makes you hard. You harden when you think about the attention he’ll give to you. How his cock will be so hard and slick as you position yourself for him, how his hands will be warm and dry as they run over your entire body.
Tonight when he touches you, his index finger will trail right below your ass. You’ll get hard for him when he tells you that this is the place, the juncture between your ass and your leg that he’ll pay the most attention to tonight.
His gentle touch will become maddening as he talks to you, as you feel like the pleasure-pain of this is never going to start. You’ll yearn to feel weight beneath his hand.
He’ll skim the head of your cock with his thumb and comment about how wet you are, and the paradox of your quickly narrowing world will come sharply into focus. You’ll ache to rock into his tenuous grip, but won’t because you’re not allowed. But breaking the rules and following them has the same consequences when you present your bottom to him.
“You’ll be spanked until you come,” he’ll order you, pushing your legs apart. He’ll make you stay like that for him, and your feelings of vulnerability, of being exposed, will feel like a fire in an igloo—intensely warm and not nearly enough.
It’s the way he looks at you when you’re across his lap that always undoes you, his stare fixed on your face like a powerful magnet. And now that it’s finally happening, his hands are everywhere, giving him all the information he needs about your body. His touch is deceptively gentle as his hand rubs the side of your face, “I’m going to plug you tonight,” you smile and he adds, “But a little differently than you’re used to.” Before you can ask a question, his fingers, wet only from his mouth, are pushing inside you, forcing your body to make decisions for your mind. You fight to be still as his fingers massage and open you.
“You’re going to be figged.”
He means ginger. Plugging you with ginger.
You feel your face redden under his hand, and his voice softens, “You’ll be fine.” You nod and swallow and then feel his fingers pull out of you slowly. Your body wants to follow them, but your eyes are watching his hand return with a small plug in his hand. Your body tenses, and he tells you not to, “Trust me, you need to stay relaxed and open, Justin.”
His left hand, no longer stroking your face, moves to your ass, his fingers spreading you, “Don’t move.” When the small plug pushes inside you, you feel yourself tighten around it immediately. Brian watches you close around it and praises you. His gentle hand on your back begins to press between your shoulder blades to help you ground yourself as the wicked tingle starts to move through your body.
And then he spanks you. Your body fights to pull in, to respond to the slow burn overtaking you, but your tense muscles only increase the stinging violation. Brian reminds you, his palm spread on your ass, “Relax for me, Justin.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You’re just making it worse.”
When he gives you a second to organize all of the sensations racing through your head, you realize that it’s the only way, that you have to listen to him. You calm down and the burn begins to retreat, but the coverage of his hand increases. The heat overwhelms you from the inside and from your reddening skin, his blows often tapping the ginger that you’re trying desperately not to cling to. When his hand moves between your legs, a quick rub before the slap, all you can see is miles of miles of lava behind your eyes. Your legs instinctively close around his hand to slow him down, and you instantly regret it when you see him pull a spreader bar out of the nightstand drawer.
“Please don’t use that,” you hear yourself begging.
“Spread your legs.”
“No, please.”
Being spanked with a bar between your thighs is a humiliating rush. You hear the blood running beneath your skin as he fastens it quickly to one thigh, “Open them.”
The dam behind your eyes breaks as you spread your legs for him.
You want to jerk off so badly, want to release some of the pressure building up inside of you. You stare at your fingers on the sheets, trying to control your breathing, as his warm hand runs up and down your inner thigh. He starts slowly, one hand spanking you while the other threads through your hair, eventually wandering to your face to feel your tears.
His words sound like an impossibility, like a soothing order, “Until you come, Justin.”
He builds the pace slowly, expanding his area of concentration, “C’mon.” You reach back, digging your fingers into his leg. “I want to feel you come, Justin, that warm flood between my legs.”
“God, oh god.”
“You’re so hot like this, spread and figged and so fucking beautiful.” He’s so fucking hard, and all you can do is stare at his cock as your thighs press against the bar in vain.
You moan as you feel yourself sink, your cock starting to bump against his legs. He reaches underneath you and guides your wet cock between his legs. Your knees press into the mattress as you fuck his thighs, your thrusts meeting his hand as every molecule of your experience seems to be racing to get away from you—the burn, the sting, the feel of your cock slipping between his muscles. He rubs your inflamed skin, keeping his hand on your bottom as you start to tighten, “Fuck, oh fuck, oh my god,” and your orgasm smoothes out of you, like this is the only orgasm you’ve ever known.
He spanks you hard as he feels you soaking his legs and you start to twist inside, the combination of the thick wetness and the arcing tingle colliding inside you. You pant as it finishes, letting your cock slide through it as he begins to bring you down. Your hips begin to still as he tells you to lie down.
Your tears are audible as he quickly removes the plug and then frees your legs. You collapse underneath his ever-present hands.
Minutes later, and how he got there you don’t know, he lies on top of you as you melt into the bed. He knows that this is when you need him, when his heavy, physical presence is the only thing keeping you in this world. And you know he wants to fuck, but his urgency is virtually invisible as he holds you, whispering the beginning of many things in your ear, “Your bottom is so hot.” You feel his erection sliding back and forth in your crack as his moans begin to get louder, “Gonna come.”
You interlace your fingers with his as you feel the wet heat on your back, feel him panting through his words, “So hot. Fuck. You’re burning up. Christ.”
You’ve never felt so hot in your life.
You want him inside you the minute you feel him get hard again, and mere seconds go by before you feel the push. It’s the most incredible feeling when you feel his balls against your sore bottom. He fucks you with a determined patience, his right hand guiding your hip, his words buried in your neck, “Tight, sweet boy.” His tongue runs behind your ear, “So proud of you.” You exhale and he holds you tighter, sliding his hand under your chest as he fucks you. “Come for me, one more time.”
You don’t think you can but he charms it out of you, the two of you letting everything go at the same time. Both of your bodies are soaked now as Brian licks his way down your back, burying his face between your warm cheeks. His tongue feels like salve of some sort and you spread your legs for him. When the blood returns to your fingertips, they move behind you, pressing gently on his head as he eats you, his hair like cool silk between your fingers.
He rims you until you call for him, kissing his way back up your body. He covers you, wrapping his arms around you. The room gets darker and darker as you struggle to keep your eyes open. His hands feel cooler than your ass now, and they calm you as you fold into him. He leans over and kisses you goodnight as your awareness starts to fade away.
The end.