4. Alex

CHAPTER 4

ALEX

It took all my willpower not to come straight into Dylan’s perfect, tight throat, but we’d agreed that was off-limits, so I wrestled my way out of his mouth and shot my load in the middle of his chest.

With his mouth free of my cock, he sucked in breath after breath, his chest heaving on every inhale. Spit smeared down his chin and cheeks, running into his eyes and mixing with the tears he was helpless to not shed. Upside down like that on the spanking bench, he was the dictionary definition of debauched. My only regret that I hadn’t shoved a vibrating plug up his ass before we started to stretch him out.

My legs trembled from the force of my orgasm, and I knew I needed to check in with him, but I also needed to make sure I was still capable of basic speech patterns. Dylan’s eyes were closed, and I took the opportunity to brush my hair back out of my face and adjust my glasses.

“Green,” he said softly, eyes still slammed shut.

I hadn’t even had a chance to ask.

“Do you need a minute?”

“I said green,” he repeated, yanking his wrists around so the metal chips clanked against the O-rings.

“Green it is,” I said, making my way around the bench and undoing all the restraints. Without warning, I fisted his hair and hauled him up. His limbs splayed out like he was an awkward baby deer trying and failing to walk for the first time.

Dylan’s ass hit the ground hard enough to mark, but before I could check in, he reached up and wiped the spit out of his eyes and said again, “Green.”

My cock pulsed back to life, still hard even though I’d already gotten off, thickening even further as I slammed him up against the cross and bound him back into place. With his shoulder blades against the leather, I had to step back to catch my breath again, the sight of him enough to bowl me over. My cum was stuck to his chest in some places, running down the deep cut lines of his stomach in others. His cock looked hard enough to burst, violently red and purple, the head swollen and leaking.

I’d been rough with him and everything about Dylan, from his posture to his facial expressions, told me that he liked it. His muscles were loose and relaxed, his features slack, his eyes hooded and drunk with lust. He’d just choked on my cock and he was far more than ready to impale himself on it given the chance. Dylan didn’t know what he was asking for, yet he asked at the top of his lungs just the same.

“Alex.”

It was so uncommon to hear my name uttered inside the walls of my playroom, the sound of it caught me off-guard. But Dylan and I hadn’t talked about honorifics or endearments, and none of them would have sounded anywhere near as right coming out of his mouth as the soft whisper of my name had.

“Yes?”

His head lolled forward, and he opened his eyes, searching me out. It was hard for him to support himself, his muscles jelly as his wrists tugged against the pinch points at the top of the cross.

“Will you spank me?”

“Have you been spanked before?” I asked.

“Not the way I think you’d spank me.”

I swallowed, rubbing at my thumbnails with the pads of my middle fingers. “How do you think I’d spank you?”

“Hard,” he answered. “Hard enough to make me cry.”

“Do you want to cry?”

Dylan clenched his jaw together and shook his head no.

My follow-up question came softer, “Do you need to cry?”

He gave me one short jerk of his head. The answer wouldn’t have even registered to someone who hadn’t been watching him as closely as I had been.

“Okay,” I said, unclipping him from the cross. I’d have to save those ideas for another day. “Get back on the bench, hands and knees.”

Dylan was bent over before I made it to the armoire, his ass on display in the way I liked the most.

“There’s handles at the bottom,” I told him, waiting for him to reach further down and curl his hands around them. “Consider yourself restrained, Dylan.”

“Alright,” he rasped.

“I’m going to put a plug inside of you first,” I said, pulling a mid-size steel plug out of a drawer and slathering it with lube. Dylan wasn’t the only one primed and ready, and once it was time for me to get inside of him, I didn’t want anything to stop me. No time for prep or easiness with him, but I could tell he didn’t want it. And neither did I.

“Thank you.”

It was impossible, I thought as I flattened one hand against the small of his back and teased the tip of the toy against his hole with the other. Impossible that he was so naturally tuned in to the right things to say and the right way to act. The only thing that would have made the statement better was a breathy little Sir at the end, but this was a just-for-tonight thing, not a long-term thing.

There was no need to take things that far. It would just break my own heart again.

I pressed the plug against his tight hole, and Dylan arched his back, gasping.

“Bear down, Dylan,” I said soothingly, flexing my fingers against his skin. “You can take this. It’s nothing compared to what I’m going to give you later.”

He cursed under his breath and relaxed his muscles, swallowing the top half of the plug, and then the rest. I covered the base with the palm of my hand, closing my eyes and groaning at how his skin burned my palm and contrasted with the cool metal feel of the plug.

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” I whispered, using the heel of my hand to push the toy deeper inside of him.

“Will it get you off?” he croaked, turning his face to the side and resting it on the bench. “To fuck me when I cry?”

“You doing what you’re told will get me off,” I said. “You submitting and taking …”

“Taking what?” he asked.

Everything.

“Whatever I want to give you.”

He sighed, content.

“I’m going to use my hand on you,” I warned him, stepping to the side of the bench so I could get the right angle to spank him.

“That’s all?”

“You’ll get your release,” I said. “I could make you cry without even touching you, Dylan. Consider my hand a fucking mercy.”

A shiver tore through his whole body, and I delivered the first strike when he was right in the middle of it. He sucked in a startled breath and I spanked him in the same spot, but harder. I should have offered him a warm-up, some teasing pulls against his ass and some soft taps to test the waters before going in hard, but Dylan had been pushing my buttons from the moment he stepped foot into my house.

He was a brat by definition, even if he didn’t know what that meant in my world. And even if he was only part of my world for a night, I wanted to show him the appeal of walking on the rough and tumble side of things. Because while I would absolutely fuck him into oblivion before the night was through—I wanted my money’s worth, after all—I would give him everything he needed on the way there in case he ever decided to come back.

“Check in,” I said, hand hovering inches away from his already pebbling skin.

“Green,” he said, not even getting the whole word out before I started in on him again.

I spanked Dylan until my hand hurt and my arm ached, until he was halfway off the other end of the bench and his ass and the backs of his thighs were decorated with green and purple fingerprints. My palm stung, but I kept up my end of the bargain. Dylan had been crying for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than five minutes.

The first time I slapped him in that tender spot where the back of his thigh met his ass, he burst into tears, screaming out so loud I thought for sure his safe word was soon to follow. I paused long enough for him to get through the initial cry and gather himself, and as soon as he let out another garbled color instead of his safe word, I went to town.

Undoubtedly, there would be pools of tears on the floor below his face, but I was far more concerned with the copious streams of precum that had made their way out of my cock. Every flinch and cry and moan that fell out of Dylan’s mouth was like a drug to me. He had no idea what he’d walked into with me, but it was clear with him bent over my bench and my handprints all over his ass, it was exactly what the both of us needed.

I spanked him through the rise and crescendo of his tears, and I kept it up through the cooldown. His cries turned to pained whimpers, and he sounded absolutely exhausted, which was a relief for my hand. I spanked him one last time, hard as my quivering muscles could manage, then I left him alone and went to the armoire. Grabbing more lube and a condom, I sat on the ground beside the cross and spread my legs in front of me.

“Dylan,” I said his name like a warning before biting open the condom packet with my teeth. “Get off the bench and come here.”

He moved slowly, unfolding himself from the bench and wincing as the bruising on his ass shifted in new ways. Bracing himself against the bench before he straightened his spine, I stopped him with a warning click of my tongue.

“Be a good boy and crawl, though.”

Heat flashed across his face and when his hands and knees hit the floor, I rolled the condom down my erection and covered it with as much lube as I could squeeze out.

“You listen so well,” I said approvingly as he made his way across the room. With my head resting against the wall, I stared at him down the length of my nose, watching his approach and the sultry way he swung his bruised ass and narrows hips in the air. “The best student, Dylan. A practical teacher’s pet, aren’t you?”

He reached me, and I expected him to stop at my feet, but he didn’t. Dylan crawled the rest of the way toward me, between my legs with his tear-stained and red-splotched face inches away from me when he finally came to a stop.

“What’s my next instruction then?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Turn around and ride me,” I said. “I want to see your bruised ass bouncing up and down my cock when I’m coming.”

Dylan turned his back to me and reached around behind himself to pull the plug out of his ass. I held out my palm and he dropped it into my waiting hand, and before I could set it aside, he had his fingers wrapped around my cock like a vise and he was angling himself down around me.

“Slow down so you don’t hurt yourself,” I warned.

He barely listened, taking my shaft into his ass much faster than he’d managed to with his mouth. But the heat of him swallowed me so quickly that it punched the breath out of my lungs. I grabbed him around the waist and held him still on my lap. For one reason so he didn’t hurt himself, another so that I didn’t come before things had a chance to get started.

“I love the way your ass swallows my cock,” I whispered, tilting him forward so I could see the place where I disappeared into his body.

“Let me ride you,” he begged, circling his hips as much as my grip on him would allow.

“Short thrusts, pet,” I instructed, slipping one hand around to his dick so I could hold him like it was a leash. “Fuck yourself on my cock and fuck my fist with your dick.”

Every muscle in Dylan’s legs quaked, and when he landed too hard on my thighs with his bruised backside, he let out a watery sniffle. He was clearly in that delicate stage of play when the pain was starting to feel more like pain again. He’d flirted with the edge of subspace, but hadn’t quite fallen over the edge. After ten minutes of shallow and measured thrusts, Dylan became frustrated. The slow pace had given me enough time to get my own strength back and before he could protest, I shoved him forward onto his hands and knees.

“Green?” I asked, cock still deep inside of him.

“Green.”

There were so many things I wanted to do to Dylan, to do with him, but our time together was a once-off, a transaction. Another man would have tried to fit as much into the night as he could manage, but I wasn’t that greedy. Dylan had gotten his release, gotten his money, and I’d gotten to spank someone hard enough to make their cock leak. It was as close to a win as I could have hoped for and I knew better than to ask for more.

I slammed into him so hard my glasses knocked loose from my face, clattering onto the ground, but I didn’t need the prescription lenses to see the bruises mottled on his ass and the backs of his thighs. I didn’t need focused vision to see how he shifted onto his forearm and reached between his legs with his other hand, pausing before he touched himself.

“Can I?” he asked, the question pushed out of him with every thrust I made into him.

“If you come on my floor, you’re cleaning it up,” I warned.

He stroked his cock fast, and I wondered how he liked to jerk off when he was alone. If he went at himself hard and fast or slow and loose. If he took his time and dragged it out. I knew if it was any other scenario, I would have asked, I would have taken my own time with him, but my orgasm was loud as a freight train ringing in my ears.

Dylan’s entire body seized, and he came seconds before me. Jets of cum shooting out of his dick and bypassing his hand, painting white stripes across my original wood floors. The muscles in his ass gripped my cock and milked me of my own release, which I spilled forcefully into the condom. I collapsed on top of him, taking us both down to the ground as I fucked through the rest of my orgasm.

My vision went black as I emptied into the condom, and I pulled us both back up to our knees. Fisting the back of Dylan’s hair, I rocked him up onto my lap, wishing I could see the way my cum from earlier and his recent release had mixed together in the middle of his chest.

“Green?” I asked, lips moving against his ear.

“Green,” he answered, falling back against my chest. My cock slipped out of him, the saggy condom warm against the inside of my thigh, his body burning hot on top of me.

“Good.” I realized I hadn’t kissed him yet. I also understood I shouldn’t . “The cleaning supplies are in the kitchen under the sink. Clean your mess off the floor then I’ll deal with getting my mess off of you.”