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Part 4

I lift his dinner from the fridge, and just as I’m trying to figure out how to get over to the table on my knees, I hear his voice.

“You can get up to bring it to me.”

I climb to my feet, ignoring the ache in my knees. I walk carefully over to the table, putting the plate down in front of him. I’ve brought him a beer too, hoping that was what he wanted. He says nothing as I put both down. I stand there and wait.

He picks up the beer, taking a long draught. It startles me when he grabs my wrist.

“Get on my lap.”

He’s pulling me down as he speaks. I fall across his lap as he pushes his chair a bit farther from the table. I’m trying to adjust myself but his hand is already coming down.

The first smack echoes in the loft as I struggle into position. He keeps going, the sting starting to build. I try to breathe as he gets faster, harder.

No. no. no. no. I don’t know if the words are just in my head or if they’re coming out of my mouth. Fuck!

“This is for making me wait three nights.” His voice is low, hard. My cock is pushing between his thighs and it’s killing me not to move.

“Don’t come.”

I bite my lip, feeling his thighs tighten as his other hand pushes my head down. I’m just about to beg him to stop, when he does. I suck in a shaky breath, my ass burning. I don’t want to move.

I moan as he runs his fingers over the spot where he spanked hardest, my skin hot and tingling.

I love that he loves this. I can feel his cock against my hip, I know he’s as turned on by this as I am. More, maybe.

His fingers trail over my ass, feathering onto my lower back and up my spine. I arch away from his touch, the nerves in my back too ticklish to stay still. I sigh as he threads his fingers through my hair, his hand scratching my scalp softly. I feel like I could purr.

His voice is much softer when he tells me to get up. I struggle to my feet, feeling how red my face is as I look at the floor. I’m ashamed now. I want to hide from him, but I know he won’t let me. He never has.

“Bend over the table, Justin.”

He isn’t looking at me, he’s picking up his fork. I know that disinterested mask – god, I’ve seen it so many times and in so many different ways, but in this context it always makes me afraid. Afraid that I’ve displeased him, that I’m not doing it right. Afraid that he’ll punish me for my mistakes. Afraid that he won’t.

I lean across the table, my chest pressing into the cool, smooth surface. I’m perpendicular to him, and can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I won’t turn my head to face him. I’m not stupid.

He’s eating, which is good I guess. He must approve of the grilled chicken salad I made. Low fat dressing, lots of veggies, just the way he likes it. I gave him a big piece of chicken though – I figured he’d need some protein for stamina. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

“Look at me, Justin.” He’s staring steadily at me as he eats.

“What do you think I should do to you?” The tone of his voice makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

“What kind of punishment do you deserve, Justin?”

Now I’m getting really nervous. And really hard. He tips his chair back a bit, a small smile on his face. He looks like a panther about to devour his prey.

“What would be fair retribution…” his chair squeaks on the floor as he pushes back and stands up, “… for trying to force me to submit to you?”

I can feel his suit jacket brush my side as he leans over the table, supporting his weight on his hands.

“For fucking me without my permission…?” He stares at me for a minute.

I can’t think of anything to say, and my heart is pounding in my ears. He brings his face really close to mine – I can feel his breath. His voice drops to a whisper,

“You should know better, Justin.”

I remind myself to breathe.

He stands up. I turn my head as he steps behind me, but it still makes me jump when he shoves his knee in between my legs. I grip the table harder with my hands.

His fingers dig into my skin as he grabs my ass. The moan leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

“Tell me what I should do to you, Justin. You have to decide.” I hear his belt buckle clink as he undoes it. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Should I flog you, Justin?” I whimper as I hear the leather pulling through the fabric.

His suit feels rough against my bare skin as he leans over me, his body pressing into mine.

“Should I torture your cock, Justin?” he’s whispering into my ear now, his lips sending electric shocks through me every time they touch me. “Truss it up, bind your balls, clamp your nipples?”

I try to swallow around the lump in my throat.

“Should I take you out, make you beg for me in public, Justin? Make you my sex slave, give you to any cock that wants your hot, tight ass?”

“No, Brian.” I’m only whispering but it feels like I’m yelling. “Please, no.”

He knows I hate it when we play in public. He also knows I come like I did when I was 17 when we play in public.

He stands up abruptly. I suck in a big breath now that he’s not leaning on me.

I hear the leather slicing through the air a split-second before I feel it. But it doesn’t prepare me. I cry out immediately, the thick tongue of his belt marking me where it lands. It comes down again before I’ve recovered from the first one, and I cry out again. I can’t be quiet when he uses his belt.

On the third one, I’m begging, my fingers white as I hold the table as hard as I can. I’m fighting every instinct in my body not to get up, not to duck away from the blows.

I stop begging when I realize he’s paused, but my ass and thighs burn and I can’t stop the noises I’m making under my breath. I almost don’t hear him…

“Tell me, Justin.”

I gasp as he brings the belt down again, the heat searing through my skin. His hand is pressing into my lower back, holding me there. I can’t tell if I’m hearing the whacks first, or feeling them. I know I’m sobbing each time they land.

When he stops, I try to stop my whimpers, but they’re coming out of me against my will. My ass feels battered, raw, but my cock is so hard I can barely breathe. I push my forehead into the table as I try to stop shaking.

“Shhhh, Justin.” His hands are smoothing over my back, pressing the shudders gently out of me. He pulls me up, turns me to face him as he wraps his arms around me. I bury my face in his shoulder. He’s murmuring something soft to me, stroking my hair and my back.

He walks us backwards a step, pulling me into his lap as he sits down. I curl up on him, my arms holding his waist tightly. He keeps stroking, soothing me with his voice, pressing small kisses into my hair. He tells me he’s proud of me. I start to breathe more evenly, start to feel how soft his hands are, how good he smells. How hard his dick is.

I nuzzle under his chin, needing to feel his skin against mine. His skin tastes so good. I’m making noises again, but different ones now. My cock feels like it’s going to explode. I writhe in his lap, unable to say what I need.

I almost miss it when he tells me I’ve earned a reward for holding still. My head snaps up and I look at him. He strokes my face, his eyes soft and sparkling. He pushes me off his lap gently, and I sit on the floor. He smiles at me as he reaches for the fly of his pants, and I can’t breathe when he pulls his cock out.

I think I moan out loud when he nods, my body leaning forward, my hands pulling his hips to me. I’m making these little grunts of pleasure as I take him into my mouth, as I taste how wet his cock is. I think I’m gonna come.

He pushes into my mouth, his cock so hard and perfect and I couldn’t stop sucking him if I tried. I just want him to feel good, to be happy with me. I shift to get a better angle and my cock presses against his leg. I moan. I’m sucking desperately now, because the spiral of pleasure is winding up my back and I’m rutting into his leg and oh… god…

I moan around his cock as I come, my fingers digging into his hips viciously. I shudder against him, his hands holding my head as I gasp through my orgasm. Before I’m even done he pushes my mouth off, tipping my head back. I feel the shame course through me along with the aftershocks. I realize I’ve not only come, but I’ve come all over his suit. I can’t look at him.

“Look at me.” Damn.

When my eyes meet his, his eyebrow is cocked, his mouth open. He looks down at his leg, the wet spot dark and obvious. He looks back to me.

“What should I do to you, Justin? I won’t ask again.”

I blush furiously, unable to keep his eye contact. My voice is weak when I answer him.

“Flog me?”

He laughs. “Try again.”

I shake my head, and then wince, realizing I shouldn’t have. Damn. I can hear his eyebrow go up without looking at him.

“Get up, Justin. We’re going out.”