Read Bound and Determined Online
Authors: Jane Davitt,Alexa Snow
that Owen had doubts as well.
Owen wound the silk attached to Sterling's wrist around his hand and
used it to lead Sterling over to the bed. “I could do this several ways, but
there's a reason why over the knee has never gone out of fashion, and it's
certainly one of my favorite positions to give a spanking.” He held up his hand.
“And there's a lot to be said for using this, not a hairbrush or a paddle, though
for a longer session it's not practical. I'm going to spank you twenty times;
enough to leave a burn, but really just a taste. Twenty is nothing. A warm-up
lap. You're to count in your head, and if I stop and ask you the number we've
reached, I expect you to know, or I'll add another two. Any questions?”
Sterling's heart was beating overtime, and he wondered idly how many
months of his life were being burned away via sheer adrenaline. Not that he
cared.
Questions? The only question he had was, why was he still standing up
when he could be draped over Owen's lap.
“I don't—no. No questions.” Being spanked twenty times didn't sound like
enough, really, but he trusted Owen, who had sat down on the bed and was
waiting. Owen shouldn't have to wait.
60
Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow
It was awkward, figuring out how to lie down as an adult across another
man's lap. The only spanking Sterling had ever participated in was the playful
kind, whacking another guy's clothed ass a couple of times. Now, with his torso
lying across Owen's thighs, he felt less sure of himself again.
The first touch of Owen's hand, smoothing over his ass, made him forget
everything but what was about to happen. His usual tension at being touched
there didn't exist; he
wanted
to be touched when it was Owen doing it, and this
wasn't being fucked, this was being spanked.
Owen put a hand palm down in the small of Sterling's back, anchoring
him, and made some small adjustments to their positions, spreading his knees
a little wider so that Sterling's dick was kissing air, unable to find anything to
rub up against. His toes dug into the thick softness of the rug by Owen's bed,
and his fingertips could touch the floor if he ever relaxed enough to spread his
fingers, currently clenched into fists.
“Ready?” Owen said and waited for Sterling to croak out a yes before
hitting him.
It was expected, and it still shocked him into a grunt of surprise, an
openmouthed gasp. Owen hadn't made that first slap light at all; his hand had
slammed down, fierce and hot, forcing pain and heat into Sterling's ass. Pain
given without anger, without disappointment…pain that melted Sterling's
defenses like ice in sunlight and left him open to Owen in a way that scared
him even as he reveled in it.
He held 'one' in his head, the number grounding him with the promise of
nineteen more just like that, and found himself arching up his hips, his legs
spreading wider, begging silently for another.
The next blow was harder, as if the first one had been a test, and Sterling
gave a little cry as the initial sting of it became a deeper burn. He had time to
think 'two' before the third slap came, about the same as the second in force
but, because his nerve endings were already flaring, more painful. He cried out
again, remembered to count 'three,' then found his mind shutting down as the
next few blows came, everything becoming about the pain and the moments in
between. His ass was on fire, his throat roughened by the sounds that were
escaping him, and his head was spinning.
“What number is that?” Owen asked gently while Sterling was still poised
for the next sharp crack of pain, waiting for it.
It took him a few seconds to get his head back together enough to answer,
and then he discovered he'd lost count. There'd been three, and then maybe
another eight after that. “Um, eleven?” he guessed.
Owen gave a dry chuckle. “I'm glad I never had to teach you math. No.
Twelve. Which means how many remaining?”
It was amazing how difficult it was to gather his thoughts together enough
to do a sum a five-year-old could have managed easily. The spanking had
shattered him, body and mind, splintered him into jagged pieces, not with each
Bound and Determined
61
smarting, biting slap, but the struggle not to give in to the insistent clamor of
his dick, demanding to come. If he'd been aroused before he'd gone over Owen's
knee, he was beyond that now. He didn't have a reference point for how turned
on he was; he'd never, ever felt this close to climaxing for so long. Never
realized just what denial would do to him.
“Ten,” he said and wished, with a small, rebellious part of his brain, that
he'd gotten that wrong too, so Owen would add more to the tally. He wanted
more. It was torture, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep from coming,
but the pain, sweet, hot, welcome, was worth it.
And, yeah, he was curious about what a punishment from Owen would
be, and
that
edged his arousal up well into the danger zone just thinking about
it.
“Ten,” Owen repeated, his voice stern now, sending a shiver down
Sterling's spine. “Don't lose count again, Sterling. Focus, please.”
The next three landed on the same few square inches of skin and brought
tears to his eyes because that went beyond what he could handle. He
squirmed, sobbed, wetness blurring his vision, tears falling when he squeezed
his eyes shut. Two more on that same spot and then Owen mercifully moved
away, leaving that place throbbing.
That was five, which left five more. Sterling inhaled sharply with the next
slap, and when he exhaled, he was crying, really crying. He fought it, trying to
hold in the string of sobs, but he'd lost all control, and there was no way to
wall off a tide that had been gathering for years. Through the struggle, he kept
track of the blows with the one part of his brain that still seemed capable of
counting, so that when Owen paused again to ask, “What number is that,
Sterling?” he was able to say, accurately if in a broken voice, “Ni-nineteen.”
He was still crying, the salt of his tears stinging his eyes, and his cock
hurt
. Not as bad as when he'd hurt his shoulder—that had been spectacularly
painful, leaving his vision washed out with bright white and his tooth chipped
from clenching his jaw so hard. He wanted to come, he wanted to come
now
.
He'd been waiting so long, and his ass had to be bright red now.
He wasn't going to come. He wouldn't. No matter how much it hurt not to,
or how good it would feel to just let go, Sterling was stubborn, and he was not
going to let himself come.
The last three blows weren't any less painful for the fact that they were
reaching the end; Sterling breathed heavily through his open mouth, still
crying, his lips dry and his dick wet-tipped. As the sharp pain of the last strike
came, his cock gave a warning throb, and he couldn't wait to see what would
happen as a result—he scrambled off Owen's lap without permission and
clamped his hand down around the base of his dick, squeezing so hard to
prevent himself from coming that he moaned. “Sorry,” he gasped. “I'm sorry, I
had to—”
Owen didn't say anything, which was like a dash of cold water over
Sterling, killing at least some of his arousal and reducing the
now-now-now
to
62
Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow
a more plaintive hope of
soon
. No praise, no blame, just Owen staring at him, a
slight frown creasing his forehead, his gray eyes narrowed. The silence
stretched, and then Owen crooked his finger and beckoned Sterling closer
again.
“Back over my knee,” he said, and there was no mistaking the fact that
Owen wasn't all that happy with him, but when Sterling, after a frantic swipe
at his wet face, obeyed, his body a scream of sensation, muscles protesting the
return to a position they'd held for so long, Owen put a cool hand, his left
hand, on what had to be scarlet skin, taking back some of the heat, and let his
right hand, the palm feeling rough and hot, caress the back of Sterling's thigh.
“I know why you did that, and I appreciate your efforts to obey me and not
come when you didn't have permission, but never break position like that
again.” Owen smiled; Sterling could hear it shape his voice. “Apart from that
lapse, and your inability to count, you were a pleasure to spank. Thank you.”
Sterling felt a smile break out across his own face even as he lifted a hand
to wipe away tears again. Part of him had been worried that there were things
he was doing wrong without realizing it—it was a relief to be told that he hadn't
screwed up
too
badly. He was trembling, his ass a constant pain and his cock a
more bearable one now that the adrenaline had died down a bit.
“Thank
you
,” he said, meaning it more than any other thanks he'd ever
given. His throat hurt, felt raw from a combination of cries and sobs, and his
nose was stuffed up, and God, he was tired. He wanted to slide off Owen's lap,
curl up on the floor, and go to sleep right there.
After a final pat to Sterling's ass, Owen took his hands away. “Lie
facedown on the bed now. You need to get yourself together and just come
down from the high.”
Moving from Owen's lap to the bed was more of a scramble than a graceful
shift of position, but Sterling was past caring. He sprawled out on a cotton
comforter washed to softness and felt the bed rock under him as Owen stood
up. “I'll be back in a moment. I'm going to get you a Coke. You need the sugar.”
Before he left, he untied the silk from Sterling's wrist and folded it into a
compact square, tucking it into Sterling's hand. Sterling clutched at it as if it'd
been Owen's hand and felt the delicate fabric catch at the work-roughened skin
on his fingers.
He felt so
good
. He didn't even care that he was still hard and had no idea
when Owen might let him come—sure, his dick ached, and it probably would
for hours, but every other part of him, even his sore ass, felt good. Relaxed, like
all the tension he carried around with him all the time, to the point where he
mostly didn't even realize it was there, had melted away, leaving his muscles
heavy and lazy, slow.
Apparently his brain was willing to melt right along with the rest of him,
because he was actually dozing when Owen came back. He wasn't sure if Owen
had said something or if his return had just changed the room somehow—
because it made sense that Owen's presence would change a room that much.
Bound and Determined
63
“What? Sorry.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing as the tender
skin of his ass protested.
“Lie still,” Owen said chidingly. He set down a tray on the night table.
Sterling squinted at it without making much effort to see what was on it. “You
can sit up and drink some Coke in a moment. I want to take the temperature of
your backside down a few degrees.”
Even with that warning, the cold, rough washcloth that Owen draped
across his ass felt icy. Sterling whimpered in shock, goose bumps breaking out
over him. “Cold!”
“I know.” Owen blessedly didn't scrub away with the cloth, just let it leach
the heat from Sterling's well-spanked skin and then repeated the process a few
times before patting Sterling's ass dry with a towel that might have been as
fluffy as a marshmallow but right then would have made a good substitute for
sandpaper as far as Sterling was concerned.
“Some cream now,” Owen said, sounding distracted. For the first time
Sterling found himself wondering if Owen was as turned on as he was. He
hoped so; maybe fellow feeling would let Owen give him permission to jerk off.
The cream really helped, Owen's fingers spreading it quickly and carefully.
When the aftercare was over, Sterling figured that he might just be able to bear
wearing pants again—assuming he didn't have to zip them up.
“Stay on your stomach while the cream soaks in,” Owen said, “but prop
yourself up on your elbows and have a drink. Then tell me how you're feeling
and what that was like. I'm not looking for 'awesome' or 'cool'; I want to know
what worked and what didn't.”
Taking the bottle Owen handed him, Sterling drank half a dozen swallows
almost greedily, then made himself lower it because drinking too much all at
once when you were really thirsty was never a good idea. The icy liquid soothed
his throat and settled in his stomach, cold.