Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
The man…boy’s? Yes, the boy’s eyes went wide. Maybe age didn’t matter when it came to who was a boy and who wasn’t. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Roll over,” Sir told him. “Put a pillow under your hips and put your ass in the air.”
I found myself setting the laptop on the bed. Found myself lying on my stomach, with a pillow under my hips and my ass arched out.
Stop, Jared. Stop doing this.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” the boy said.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I repeated. Why am I doing this? What the hell is wrong with me?
“I know you’re sorry, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get a punishment. That’s what happens when you’re naughty.”
He was right, I realized. Naughty boys should get punished. Shouldn’t they? How else would they learn to be good?
Sir sat on the edge of the bed. He rubbed a hand over the curve of the other man’s round ass and I trembled for that touch. Wanted it so badly I hurt with need. “I only do this because I care about you,” the Sir added, and the boy looked down in what appeared to be shame for disappointing his Sir.
“I know,” the sub replied. A shock of need tore through me; so strong, it took my breath, making me gasp. I wanted that. I think I wanted to be cared for that way. Wanted someone to give me what I needed, because I couldn’t do it on my own.
No! It was fantasy. Porn. Nothing more, nothing less. I had spent my life taking care of myself, because no one cared enough to do it—not my parents who put their addictions above me or the foster parents I’d lived with afterward. I didn’t need anyone else.
“Count. Bad boys must always count.” Sir lifted his hand in the air slowly, the anticipation making the boy wiggle slightly, then it fell onto the other man’s ass—hard. The smack echoed through the room and I thrust forward, rubbing my cock against the pillow, as the boy shouted, “One!” I wondered what it would feel like to have someone spank my ass that way, at the exact instant that shame flooded through me. I was in my thirties. There wasn’t a part of me that should desire a punishment spanking.
The man in the video did. He begged for it, asked for it harder because he’d deserved it. Sir was happy to oblige, but when the man got it, he cried and said it was too much, but still counted each swat.
I watched, wanted, fucked my own pillow.
“It hurts, Sir. I’m sorry! I learned my lesson,” the boy begged.
“More,” I countered what the spanked man in the video said. I needed it, needed it so fucking badly my whole body spun as if I was coming apart.
My ass tingled. I wished I knew what it would feel like to burn. To have someone take care of me, and to be concerned if I’d messed up. No one cared about what I did. They never had.
With each slap that came down on his red ass, the man in the video cried harder. I realized I was crying, too. Tears ran down my face as I fisted the blanket.
When he yelled out with one of the slaps, I came. My balls drew tight. My cock pulsed and shot cum all over the pillow the way the bad boy had done before getting spanked.
Sir pulled the boy into his arms, cradling him as he took care of him another way. I lay there alone and cried.
This was the last time, I told myself. I was going to stop this foolishness. Stop wanting this kinky thing I’d never yearned for before. Tonight was the end of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
I opened the door the next morning, and frowned when I saw Kieran standing across the hall.
“I thought we could walk down together,” he offered.
“Yeah…sure,” I replied. Maybe he was looking for a friend. Maybe he was just being nice. I didn’t know and I didn’t want to contemplate it right now. At this point, I just wanted to get to work and get my mind off everything else.
I locked the door and then waited. Kieran nodded down the hallway making me feel like an idiot for having stood there doing nothing.
We walked toward the elevator and, when we got inside, he asked, “How was your day yesterday?”
“Good,” I told him. “Yours?”
“Mine too.”
I thought about telling him I’d eaten lunch and taken a small breather. How it helped with my day, but who was this man to me? Why should I tell him those things? He was being nice. He couldn’t care that much, really, and I didn’t care what he thought.
The elevator felt like it went slower than usual; as though we weren’t ever going to get to the ground floor.
When we did, and the doors slid open, Kieran said, “I’d like you to come over for dinner tonight. Do you have plans?”