He has me.
“Got you,” he growls into my ear, sounding as out of breath as I am.
And I…go limp. I bite my lip hard, because for some reason, I’m fucking crying now, like for real, like a lot. Sobbing like he just broke my fucking heart, which is so stupid because I don’t feel sad really.
I feel so good, so happy, so confused.
“Ho-holy shit,” I blubber, shaking, weak.
“That’s right,” he says, kissing my jaw, my neck, adjusting his hold on me to be softer. Giving me some space from the concrete. “Cry for me. Weep for me.”
“Fuck,” I sob, covering my mouth with my hand, shaking my head, but I don’t even know why.
“You did so good,” he praises me, holding me up because I feel too weak to stand. “Such a clever boy, so determined. Didn’t make it easy, did you? I didn’t expect you to. But you made it real.”
An ugly sound escapes me, wounded and weeping. He shushes me, guides me over to a podium, and helps me lean forward against it.
“You told some lies earlier,” he reminds me as his hands go to my pants. “Now I’m going to make sure you remember the truth. Make sure it feels real, sweet boy. And I’m going to love doing it.”
I groan and rest my forehead on my hands, forearms on the grainy wood podium. He pushes my pants down to my thighs, and I choke on a whine, because I’m so fucking turned on. I can’t believe how hard I am, how into this I am. I can’t believe that this is what’s burning into my soul, ripping me apart, blowing my walls and my inhibitions to smithereens.
“This is real,” he says. I expect him to say more, to keep talking to me, but instead he just cracks my ass with a brutal fucking spank and I jerk with a cry, flinch, gargle some sobbing sounds in my throat.
“Shit,” I cough out through the tears.
“Say it.”Spank! He gives me another good one, and I know I’m gonna be sore from this. And I love it, I’m looking fucking forward to it. I want to be sore already, want to feel the way his attention sits under my skin. “Tell me that this is real, Tommy.”
“This is–” I’m weeping, fucking crying. I shake my head. I can’t. Can I?
Spank!“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he purrs. “This is real. You’re going to say it. I’m going to help you say it.”Smack!
I jerk and squirm with each spank, my ass already stinging and on fire, my head spinning because I was already running for a while before this and now I can barely breathe. “Young-gi–”
Spank! Three quick ones, and then he leaves his hand there, making me feel the burn. “Who am I to you?”
“Daddy,” I gasp.
“And who are you to me?”
That’s harder to say, but I manage it. “Your sweet boy. Y-your Tommy.”
I should feel so stupid, so ridiculous, saying something like that. Because it should feel fake. But it doesn’t.
“That’s right,” he rewards me with a few more spanks, and I groan, loud and embarrassingly rough. “Are you crying, Tommy?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You’re so pretty when you cry. Will you cry again for me later, when I fuck you? When I’ve brought you back to our bed, where I’ll take my fucking time with you?” The way he makes everything sound like a threat is fucking slaying me.
“Yes, Daddy!”
“Shh,” he warns me. “We don’t want to be too loud here, sweet boy. What if someone comes in?”
My heart skips a beat and my cock jerks at the risk.
“Tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll take you back home.”
Home. Take you back home.Weirdly enough, that’s what finally breaks me. Calling it home, implying that it’s our home,myhome, cracks me open inside.
