Page 19 of Knox's Boy

“All done, little boy,” he whispered, and the tenderness in his tone was almost harder to bear than the spanking. I let out a broken, high-pitched sob. He let me feel it, rubbing his hand in gentle circles, calming me.

He gave me all the time in the world, until I was ready to get up, my head light and empty with contentment, my ass still burning but in the best way, and my cock still so hard with desire I didn’t know what to do.

The next sensation was unexpected, something cool and slick trailing down the cleft of my ass. Lubricant, I realized with ajolt of anticipation. Knox's finger circled my entrance, teasing, probing gently.

"You've gotten your spanking," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Now let's see if you deserve a reward. Green?"

“The greenest ever!” I exclaimed, almost desperately.

One finger breached me slowly, the slight burn of intrusion merging with the lingering sting of the spanking. I moaned, unable to help myself, pushing back against his hand despite my bound position.

"Eager little thing," Knox observed, adding a second finger alongside the first, stretching me carefully. "But still so tight. When was the last time someone took care of you properly?"

I couldn't answer, could barely think through the haze of pleasure as his fingers found my prostate and pressed deliberately. A strangled cry escaped me, my hips bucking involuntarily.

A third finger joined the others, the stretch bordering on uncomfortable. Knox worked me open, carefully, his other hand stroking soothingly along my spine.

"Please," I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for.

"Please, what?" Knox prompted, his fingers stilling inside me.

"Please… fuck me," I gasped, shameless in my need. "Please, Daddy. I need it."

The emptiness when he withdrew his fingers was almost unbearable, a hollow ache that left me squirming across his lap. I heard the sound of a zipper. Then he was shifting me, manhandling me with those strong hands until I was straddlinghis lap, facing him, my bound arms forcing me to lean forward against his chest for balance.

The position aligned us perfectly, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my prepared entrance. He lubed us both some more. Then, Knox's hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he looked into my eyes.

"Down," he commanded simply.

I sank down slowly, guided by his hands, impaling myself on his length inch by excruciating inch. The stretch burned, a delicious ache that stole my breath and made my thighs tremble. He was bigger than I'd expected, filling me completely, pushing the limits of what I could take, but we took our time.

When I was fully seated, he held me there, giving me time to adjust. I felt split open.

"Move," he said, the word thick with controlled desire.

I did, rising up on shaky thighs before sinking back down, slowly. The friction was exquisite, the angle ensuring that each movement dragged across my prostate. With my hands bound behind me, I was completely dependent on Knox's support, on his strength keeping me balanced as I rode him. Knox's hands guided my pace, slowing me when I tried to rush, ensuring each stroke was deep. He was in absolute control, using my body for his pleasure while simultaneously drawing out mine.

The orgasm began building with frightening speed, pressure coiling at the base of my spine, heat spreading through my limbs. I was close, so close, the dual stimulation of being filled and having my prostate massaged with each thrust pushing me rapidly toward the edge.

"Please," I gasped, "please, I need to cum. Please let me cum, Daddy."

Knox's grip on my hips tightened, his thrusts becoming harder. "No," he said, the word sending ice through my veins. "Naughty, bratty boys don't get to cum. And you were really bad yesterday, weren't you?"

I whimpered, my body trembling with the effort of holding back. "Please, I'll be good, I promise. Please, Daddy, I need it so badly."

"Discipline," Knox growled, punctuating the word with a particularly deep thrust that made me see stars. "You need to learn discipline."

I tried. God, I tried. My whole body trembled with the effort, my muscles clenching and unclenching as Knox’s hands punished and steadied me at once. The pressure built with every stroke, until I was panting, desperate, leaking onto his expensive slacks, eyes wild with the need to finish.

He kept me right there, suspended. My legs started to shake. My vision blurred, and I could taste blood where I bit my lip to keep the sobs contained.

“Hold it,” he commanded. “Show me you can follow orders, little boy.”

I nodded, sobbing, “Yes, Daddy, yes… I can, I will,” and it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, not giving in, not letting go. My whole body was a live wire, every nerve on fire. I was sure that if I failed, if I came without permission, the world would end. I’d rather choke to death on my own need than disappoint him now.

“Good boy,” he murmured. I was his good boy. I didn’t know I’d needed that more than food or air or money. Then, when Iwas so far gone I could barely speak, when my throat was raw and my muscles spasmed from the effort of not coming, Knox’s voice cut through the static:

“Now.”