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Hence, why Sean was going another round with Max’s flogger. This time on the cross, though. Facing forward. Wanted to hold Sean’s eyes for each connect. Remind him who was in charge. Who was driving.
Something Sean tended to forget a lot. Like he had at his apartment when Max picked him up, then in Max’s truck, then just now on Max’s lap. Which was why, during this little flogging tonight, Sean was going to feel some punishment, too. For speaking out of line. Behaving too bold. All was good, though. This would teach him. He’d learn.
Max finished strapping Sean in, wrists and ankles bound and spread. Wait. Not quite done. He eyed Sean’s jockstrap, taking a moment to savor the sight, impatient and yet reluctant to take it off. Sean’s bulge was so beautiful. So honest. So true. And really fucking flattering, if truth be told. The way it strained against its confines, so eager for Max’s touch. Such a titillating visual. Max hated to disrupt it. But his flogging just wouldn’t have the same impact if Sean’s cock was tucked safely away. Like every other part of Sean’s body, it needed to be exposed and defenseless. Making Sean feel helpless, utterly vulnerable. At the mercy of Max’s every wish and whim.
Max slipped his fingertips into the leg holes of Sean’s jockstrap and gently stroked the skin beside his junk. Sean shivered but said nothing. Max gave the thing a tug. “Ask if it’d please me to take this off.”
Sean shifted against the cross. “Would it please you, Sir... To take that off?”
“Yes, Sean, it would. Now ask me nicely if I’ll remove it.”
Sean grinned and rocked his hips. “Would you pretty please remove it?”
Max paused. Frowned incredulously. “Are you getting cheeky?”
Sean stilled. Shook his head.
Bullshit. Max glowered.
Sean winced, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Smart boy. Understood Max didn’t play that shit.
Wrapping a hand around Sean’s throat, Max held his stare. “Respect your fucking Dom.”
“Yes, Sir. I do, Sir. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”
Max thumbed his jugular. “I forgive you. Now try again.”
Sean swallowed against his palm. “Please, Sir. Will you remove it?”
Max smirked. “It’d be my pleasure.” He slid his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, shiny flick knife. Gently, he ran it along the crease of Sean’s groin, then sliced it through one side of Sean’s waistband.
Sean’s boner bucked. Breath emptied from his lungs.
Max sliced through the other side just as deftly, tossed the scraps, and pocketed his blade. “You remember your safe words?” He gripped Sean’s cock and stroked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now get those eyes down.”
Max released him and headed to his music system, cracked his neck, then kicked on some tunes. “Headstrong,” by Trapt. Edgy and vigorous, with a dark streak of sexy. As the defiant tempo surged, he strode to his whip display and pulled off one of his longer, sleeker versions. The kind that caused a nice, sharp sting as opposed to a deep, dull ache. He ran its tails across his palm, then slid his gaze to Sean.
Eyes on the floor, his expression looked wary. Had he picked up on Max’s vibe? Sensed he was in for a bit of pain? Max hoped he had. Fear was good for the soul.
Max returned and stood before him, sinking deeper into his psyche, into the darker, seedier regions of his mind. Shutting down personal desire. Pulling the plug on his emotions. Sizing Sean up for what he was; Max’s sub. His channel for extracting pleasure. Just as he was for Sean. Syphoning from each other the things they needed. And right now Max needed to fucking dominate.
Something Sean was realizing, by that look in his eyes.
Up until now, Max had gone easy on Sean. At least where pain was concerned. But this kind of visceral Dom/sub exchange would take shit to a whole new level. Time to find out if Sean could stomach the real deal. If he could truly deliver the sustenance Max craved. And if he couldn’t, so be it. Lots of subs couldn’t. But at least Max would finally know for sure. Know that Sean lacked what Max fundamentally needed. Which would ease any underlying apprehensions Max had that Sean might become a bigger problem. Because if Sean didn’t have what it took to satisfy Max, Max would ultimately lose interest in the kid. Making Sean nothing but a shiny, new boy toy whose luster would eventually fade.
All Max had to do now was draw out the truth. To himself, and especially to Sean. He’d told Sean in the past that he couldn’t handle Max. Now he was going to prove it.
Raising his flogger, Max assumed proper stance. “Alright, caitín. This is going to hurt. So hang tight and don’t forget to breathe.”
TWENTY-SIX
It didn’t take long to break Sean down.
Not because Max was hitting hard, though. Because he wasn’t. Didn’t need to. His flogger did all the work. The very reason he chose it to begin with. A whip with not just super-thin tails, but the fewest tails in total, too. A general rule of thumb all Doms were familiar with. The slenderer the flogger, the harsher each hit’s bite.
