"One." A whisper.
"Good. Again."
He built a rhythm, soft, firm, soft again, mapping Leo's back with the falls, watching the skin pinken beautifully under the assault. Leo's counts grew steadier. His body began to sway, subtly seeking the impacts, giving himself over to it.
He set down the flogger.
The whip was smooth, braided, deceptively gentle in his hand. He let it drape over Leo's shoulders first. "This is different. It will be a line, not a spread. A sharp kiss."
The crack was startlingly loud.
The tip landed in a burning line across Leo's upper back. He cried out, sharp, pained, before his training caught up a heartbeat later. "E… eight!" His whole body had gone rigid, hands fisted on his thighs, knuckles white.
Landen stilled.
He watched the welt bloom. Saw Leo's shoulders locked tight, pleasure fled, only shock remaining. He discarded the whip without hesitation and knelt beside Leo on the platform, his hand finding the curve of his neck.
"That wasn't for you, was it?"
Leo shook his head. Tiny motion. Ashamed. "I'm sorry, I…"
"Hush." Landen's fingers tightened slightly. "No apologies for truth."
He smoothed his palm over the heated skin of Leo's back, avoided the stinging stripe, traced the soft pinkened places where the deerskin had kissed him. "You take the flogger beautifully." His voice dropped lower, rough velvet. "But the whip frightens you. It steals your focus. Your pleasure."
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Leo's ear. "I don't want to steal from you. I want to give to you."
"Do you trust me to give you what you need?"
A shaky inhale. "Yes."
"Then let go of the count. Let go of everything except my voice."
He turned Leo, arranged him over the low padded bench, bound wrists secured to the ring at the front, trousers peeled down just enough to bare the curve of his cheeks. His hand came down in a firm, open-palmed spank.
The crack echoed through the quiet. A deep pink handprint bloomed across pale skin.
Leo moaned, long and low, his back arching, pushing into the contact, seeking more.
Another spank. Other cheek.
"Ah... yes..."
"This is for the sound you made on seven."Smack."So pretty."
Leo cried out."Fuck!"
"This is for telling me the truth."Smack."So brave."
A choked sob of pleasure, his fingers curling into the leather of the bench.
Landen spanked until the skin was hot and glowing beneath his palm, until Leo was a writhing, pleading mess; cock leaking against the padded leather, cries spilling out of him in a continuous, wanton melody.
The sounds filled the room.
They didn't touch him.
He registered that with a cold detachment that disturbed him more than the emptiness itself. The boy was gorgeous. Undone. Utterly at his mercy, put there with nothing but Landen's hands and voice and fifteen years of experience.
