by Tinnean
“I refuse to beat you for hurting me,” Master said, although he kept up the regular lashes against my back, ass, and thighs. “I am giving you this so you can forgive yourself, Jesse. If I wanted you to atone for anything regarding our relationship, we would go through the proper means of communicating it, first of all. You would know exactly why you were receiving every single stroke. I’m doing this for you. Because you need it.”
I dropped my head, pressing it against the wall and presenting my back to him. He was right. Of course he was right. Master switched to a new flogger; he must have been satisfied that I was adequately warmed up. For a long time the only sound was of leather hitting skin, heavy breaths, and the occasional muttered curse.
It hurt. Fuck, did it hurt, but at the same time, it felt like relief and forgiveness and blessed mental silence. Nothing mattered except the pain, nothing at all. He was my Master and he could give this to me like no one had really ever been able to give it to me before.
He stopped and I could hear his heavy breaths. “Where are you, Jesse?”
“Not at a ‘yellow’ yet, but close,” I said, my voice harsh and hoarse from the occasional cry or scream of pain.
“Okay. I’m going to switch to a different whip, but this is the last one I’m going to use. Don’t wait for me to check in with you, if you need to use a word, use it, okay?”
“Yes, Master.”
The new flogger was lighter, but that made the strokes sting more. As Master worked over my back and thighs, I’d occasionally get a sharper tingle of pain… eventually I worked out that this must be the flogger that had angled tips to each strand, and they were cutting into my skin.
Master gave me time to breathe in-between the first few strokes, then started to whip me with an even, regular speed. I tried to hold on, grinding my teeth and clenching my fists, but sooner than I would have liked, it got to be too much.
“Fuck! Red! Red….” But he’d dropped the whip before I’d even spoken the first safeword, and by the time I’d finished the second, he had one arm around my waist, holding me upright as his other hand deftly undid the bonds at my wrists.
“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you….”
I barely noticed that I was crying, swiping at my wet face with the back of my arm. I braced my hands on the wall for balance as Master leaned down to release my ankles, then he scooped me into his arms so I was clinging to him desperately, my own hands clasped behind his neck.
Master sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged so I could sit on his lap with my legs around him too. For a moment it seemed like he didn’t know where to put his hands; in the end he rested them on my sides, caressing up to my arms and gently stroking my biceps where the lash hadn’t hit my skin.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated in a soothing voice, kissing my hair and gently rocking me.
I took a deep breath, calming myself as I took in the feel of my chest pressed to his, how the hair at his nape was damp with sweat from the exertion of doing this for me. Only with the quiet did I notice that I must have been making some kind of noise.
“Can we move?” Master whispered. “I really want to tend to your back, and this isn’t the most comfortable spot.”
I nodded, extracting myself from his grasp. As he stood to collect his shirt and phone, I knelt in my submissive pose for him, falling back into the position that was most natural to me since he hadn’t commanded me to be any other way. My eyes were lowered, but I felt his shock as he turned back and found me kneeling. My stomach pitched at the thought of disappointing him.
Master took a few more strides until he was standing in front of my kneeling form.
“Wrists,” he commanded sharply, and I held my hands out to him. Master removed my cuffs, gently running his thumbs back and forth across my reddened skin. I’d clearly been tugging at my bonds.
“Stand and display,” were his next words, and I tried to make my movements as graceful as I could. “I’m going to remove your collar, Jesse,” Master explained softly. “The session is over, however, feel free to come back to me in your own time.”
“Yes, Master.” I spoke the words reverently.
When my things had been put away, Master took my hand and led me back to his bedroom, gently encouraging me to lie down on my stomach and to make myself comfortable. I relaxed into the pillows, turning my head so I could watch for when he’d come back out from his bathroom.
“Are you okay?” he asked with considerable concern in his eyes when he did emerge with a few bottles of salve and cotton wool.
“I’m good,” I sighed. “Amazing, actually. That was unbelievable.”
“That’s good,” he said dispassionately. “I’m going to clean you up a bit. Try and stay still for me.”
“Am I bleeding?” I asked, the words coming out a little more excited than I had anticipated.
“In places, yes,” he said drily. “You needn’t look so pleased about it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, although I wasn’t really.
“No, you’re not,” Will said, with a touch of humor.
“No, I’m not,” I sighed.
He cleaned off areas that stung, then applied the salve to my whole back and ass, then more stinging stuff to what I guessed were the cuts. My back felt hot and sore and amazing, my ass was practically twitching with happiness, and I guessed that my muscles would be screaming in the morning. Fuck. Morning.
“Will, I have work tomorrow….”
“I can call in sick for you if you like. If you do go in, you can’t do any lifting at all. You’ll kill yourself.”
I nodded and Will’s weight shifted on the bed as he placed the first aid stuff on the nightstand.
“Can I see it?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” Will said after a moment.
“How does it look?”
More silence. “Fucking beautiful, Jesse.”
I LET him help me up and get to the bathroom, where there was a long mirror over the sink. I had expected to be red from my shoulders to my thighs, but instead there were thick stripes of color crisscrossing over my skin, my ass was a splotchy red, and bruises were already darkening my skin. I wasn’t cut in many places, just where the very tail of the whip had caught me, and despite Will’s tender ministrations, they were still oozing the tiniest amount of blood.
“I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow,” I said, part dejected, part overjoyed.
“If you stay home, then I’m staying with you,” Will said in his “firm” voice.
I nodded, turning to him and kissing him softly. “Thank you so much. I feel… unbelievable.”
“Enjoy it while you can. I’m never, ever going to make you safeword again.”
“Okay,” I whispered against his lips. “We should call Laura, let her know we’re okay.”
“It’s late. I’ll text her,” Will murmured, the movement of his lips caressing mine.
“Okay. If neither of us are going to work tomorrow, can we stay up and giggle like schoolgirls? Or make love like men?”
Will wrapped his arms loosely around my waist and laughed, the sound warm and deep. “I don’t think I can resist a naked man in my bathroom offering me things like that.” He leaned in and kissed the top of my nose. “But I want to give you time to heal. I’m going to put some more stuff on your back, and we can giggle like schoolgirls for a while first.”
“I can live with that,” I sighed dramatically and leaned in for his lips again.
“We need to talk about this session,” he warned me and I nodded. “Not tonight though. I’m going to give you a day to work through your thoughts, then we can talk tomorrow and see if you’re due any more punishment or discipline. How does that sound?”
“Good. That sounds good.”
After stretching out on Will’s bed again—or our bed, I supposed—Will’s cool hands worked another thick layer of salve into my back. There was no way of knowing what felt best—his hands or the ointment.
As
I lay out, Will stripped out of his jeans and sat against the pillows in his boxers, his fingers laced together on his stomach while we talked of everything and nothing. My job. His family. The Seahawks game over the weekend. The best Chinese restaurant in Seattle. Why I love poppies. How Will’s obsession with Nikes began. Our mutual appreciation of Stephen Fry.
“Can I move yet?” I asked after some time. “My neck is getting stiff.”
Will raised an eyebrow and smirked at me. “Stiff?”
“Fuck off,” I laughed. “Help me get up.”
“Your choice of phrasing tonight is beautiful, Mr. Ross.” But he helped me to sit. “How’s your ass?”
“It’s fine,” I said as I settled myself at the foot of the bed, opposite him.
“Good,” he murmured. “You’re too far away.”
I scooted up on the bed until we were knee-to-knee. Will took my hand and brought it to his lips.
“I can’t really get my head around the fact that you’re really here,” Will said, softly stroking my knuckles. “I’ve dreamed of you being mine for so long, it doesn’t feel real.”
“I’m here,” I assured him. “I’m real. And I’m staying.”
He smiled, his eyes lighting up with it. “You can have the spare room, you know. You don’t have to live in here.”
“I’ll take the room,” I said. “But I want to sleep in your bed, if that’s okay. It would be nice to have a bit of space for myself though.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “Come closer.”
I was laughing as I climbed into his lap, sitting with my legs and arms wrapped around him in the same position we’d adopted earlier in the playroom. I sighed in deep, deep satisfaction as my head came to rest on his shoulder and he kissed my hair. Light, almost teasing fingers stroked the length of my back, at once soothing and comforting and deadly arousing.
My lips found Will’s neck, then his earlobe, then the angular point of his jaw.
“Jesse,” he warned in a low voice.
I kissed his cheek lovingly, then nibbled along to his lips. He met mine in a scorching kiss, one that made my naked cock hard against his stomach. Will’s hand flattened against my lower back, making me hiss in pain then grab his face in my hands, directing his mouth back to mine.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I insisted against his lips. “Don’t stop kissing me, for God’s sake.”
I shifted closer to him, impossibly close as he chuckled against me and ran his thumbs against my sore, sensitive skin. Our kisses slowed but lost none of their passion; I felt that this was where our relationship became solid again, where the heat in my chest started to grow and expand.
“Closer, baby,” he whispered again and I chuckled.
“Any closer and you’ll be inside me,” I breathed into his neck.
“Maybe that’s the point,” he murmured back.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You want that? You want me?”
“There is no better feeling,” he said, between kisses peppered all over my skin, “than being as deep inside you as I can possibly be, feeling you clench around me, hearing you gasp and moan and squirm because of the way I make you feel.”
“You have a wicked mouth,” I teased him. “I want it on me.”
I edged back on the bed, out of his lap. Without thinking I laid back, rolling down my spine, then arched up in pain as my deeply bruised flesh met the soft-brushed cotton of his comforter.
“Shit, Jesse,” Will exclaimed, grabbing hold of my hands and tugging me back up to sitting. “You need to be careful!”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m fine,” I muttered. “I just forgot….”
“You forgot I just whipped you bloody?” he said wryly.
“You were distracting me, if you forgot already,” I laughed. “It’s fine, Will. I promise.”
“Okay,” he said, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Do you still want….”
“Yes. I really, really want.”
He reached over to the nightstand for a condom and his lube, rolling the first down his length then lubing himself up. He shifted down on the bed so just his shoulders were resting against the headboard, then beckoned for me to sit astride him again.
“Kneel over me,” he said. “And put your hands on my shoulders.”
“Bossy,” I teased him as I moved.
“Dominant, some might say,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with laughter.
Will’s hand cupped the back of my neck, drawing my face down to his lips. I may have been on top of him, but he possessed me in the most beautiful, innocent way; taking everything I had to offer him and giving so much more back in return. At the same time his fingers reached between my legs to gently stroke my anus, spreading the cool lubricant there and working it the first few inches inside me.
“I need you,” I told him, my eyes tightly screwed shut, my forehead pressed against his.
“God, I need you,” he said and removed his fingers.
Will lightly gripped my hips as I angled his cock so I could press him against my entrance. Being like this, above him, meant I could control the depth and speed of his penetration. I forced my eyes open so I could watch his expression as he took me. It was possibly one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.
“Oh,” I breathed and his eyes flew open, connecting with mine.
He was smiling as the fingers of his right hand traced up over my chest to gently stroke my jaw and cheek, then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear in a strangely tender gesture. His left hand stayed on my hip, guiding me as I sank down the last inch so he was completely seated within me.
I held there for a few moments, allowing myself to stretch around him and become accommodated to his size. Then I rocked my hips, changing the angle of his cock inside me, making us both groan and cry out at the same time.
After everything that we’d put each other through over the course of the evening, it was the perfect way to reconnect. Will knew my body better than I did, meaning when we made love, he could manipulate me in ways I’d never felt before. He knew when to touch me, when to stop, when to kiss me and hold me close.
We found our rhythm, my thighs tensing as I lifted and lowered myself, over and over so his cock could massage me from the inside. We kept our faces close together, sometimes kissing slowly, passionately, and sometimes just pressing soft lips into pulse points, sharing something that was more than friendship. More than dominance. Something that could, maybe, in time, be called love.
Will reached for my cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Now I was angled into him, any pretense that I was controlling anything long forgotten as he played my body with practiced ease and skill. Our lips met, over and over in the sweetest, most desperate kisses until I was crying out my pleasure into his hand and mouth. He followed moments later, his hand almost painful on my neck as he held me close. Almost.
I groaned and laughed as I lifted myself free of all of the limbs tangling me to Will.
“My thighs hurt,” I told him.
“We should get in the shower,” he mumbled.
“’Kay,” I agreed easily.
He left the water far too cool for my liking, but insisted that anything warmer would only hurt my back. Will washed me gently with an antiseptic shower gel he’d pulled from the back of his cabinet; it stung a little, but I was sure most of the cuts would already have started to heal.
“More salve?” I asked sleepily as we dried off.
“No, we should let it dry out now,” Will yawned. “Don’t sleep with a shirt on though.”
“Oh, okay.” I tried to pretend that it was some kind of hardship. “But you too, then.”
“For you, anything,” he vowed.
There was no way I could sleep on my back, and I experimented rolling one way and the other until I found a comfortable position on my side that didn’t press against any sore spots. Will spooned up behind me, and I leaned back to share a kiss.
“Damn. Your back feels like a radiator.”
/> I laughed. “Do you still think it looks nice?”
“Mmm,” he mumbled, wrapping his arm around my waist and snuggling his face into my neck. “You’ll like it less in the morning when you can’t move.”
“That’s okay. I have you.”
“That you do.”
I pulled his arm tighter around me, until his hand was resting over my heart.
“I hope you can feel this too,” I whispered, the closest I could come to telling him how I really felt.
Will’s silence was his answer, but he pressed his hand tight against me and his lips worried the skin on my neck, telling me he was trying. He wanted to feel it too.
I WOKE the next morning in an indescribable amount of pain.
The problem was, I couldn’t decide what hurt more. My head, my heart, or my back.
I must have made some sort of noise, because Will rolled over and gently stroked my hair back from my face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice husky from sleep as his eyes cracked open.
“Hurts,” I managed to say, without specifying where.
He leaned in and carefully placed his lips on my temple, letting them linger there before rolling out of bed. I heard the taps start for the bath and Will banging around, and then he appeared at my side.
“Can you move?” he asked.
“I… I don’t think so,” I admitted. My muscles had seized up during the night, and I was aware that I was still in the same fetal position that I had fallen asleep in. I tried to arch my back as if I were stretching out an ache and cried out in pain. The bad sort of pain, not the good sort.
“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Will said. He crouched down and slid an arm under my neck and another under my knees, maneuvering me until I was cradled against his chest. I clung on around his neck, too mentally tired to even be embarrassed about being taken care of like this.
He settled us into the hot water while the bath was still filling. I’d never paid much attention to the sunken bath in the room before; Will seemed to go to the shower by force of habit, and I’d always joined him there. I tried to relax back against his chest as his arms wrapped around me once more.
