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The pain stops. Carter sucks in as much air as possible, relief rushing through his system, even as his body throbs and burns in agony.
He’s hit again. This time it’s the front of his body. A thigh. Then the other. His stomach.
Then his genitals. He thought the cage on his cock would protect him, but it doesn’t.
Still recovering, Carter’s not prepared for the pain of a brutal hit against his left nipple. It’s hard enough to send the clamp there flying. Blood rushes to the abused nub too fast, sending Carter into a dizzy spell. He starts to sag in his restraints. His shoulders burn as they take the brunt of his weight, but he can’t get himself to straighten out again. No fucking way.
The person hitting him is trying to get the other clamp off now, but they’re struggling. Hits come fast, one after another, sharp bursts of pain until the clamp is finally snapped off. Carter chokes on air.
The dildo speeds up.
The person hits his genitals again.
Something hot and wet pours down Carter’s balls and thighs, making him writhe in agony as the liquid hits his welts. He realizes distantly that he caused this. Carter pissed himself.
People are cheering.
Someone is close in front of him. He can feel the heat of their body rippling off them.
No, it’s two people. They’re whispering to each other. One is angry. The other is desperate.
He hears, “-can’t-” and, “-shit together-” and, “-have to stop.” He hears, “-a little more,” and, “-please, Ben-” and, “-get us fucking killed.”
It’s hard to concentrate on any of it. Everything is numb and distant and much safer if he doesn’t let the words or the sensations register.
The dildo slows. Then stops. Then disappears.
Something warm and heavy is being pressed against Carter’s front. Things piece together in a quick jumble. His gag is removed, something wiping his chin and cheeks. Then the blindfold is gently slipped free. He blinks a few times, but his vision is too blurry. He can’t get his eyes to focus.
The cuffs on his ankles are freed. Strong hands grab the backs of his thighs, twitching when Carter sobs in pain. His nipples throb as something coarse rubs against them. A thumb is stroking his cheek. The crowd is louder. Words are being whispered in his ear. A cock is sliding into his hole.
“-got you. You’re safe now. Never – never again. Never again, sweetheart.”
Carter blinks, and he sees a watercolor painting of sir’s face in front of him. The sight of him rips Carter out of his lingering fuzziness and plunges him straight into turmoil. He hangs his head to rest on sir’s shoulder and sobs freely, his chest heaving, his eyes pouring tears too fast for him to see anything even if he wanted to. Not that he wants to. He keeps his eyes closed nice and tight.
Even though Carter can taste blood on his tongue, he can’t get himself to calm down enough to stop sobbing. He’s convinced he’ll never be able to stop. None of this will ever stop. There’s no escaping it.
“I know. Fuck, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. You’ve done so well. Taken your punishment so fucking well. Such a good boy. My good, good boy.” Sir kisses his throat. His jaw. His earlobe. “Sir is almost done, okay? Almost done. Then we can go home. Sir will take you home and we’ll – we’ll never fucking do this again, okay? You’ll be forgiven, and this will all be over, and you’ll be safe. Okay?”
Carter nods rapidly, wanting that.Needingthat. Sir is almost done. Then he gets to go home. Then he’s forgiven. Then it’ll beover.
Sir’s thrusts are hard and smooth as he presses more kisses to Carter’s throat and face. In between each peck is a whispered word or phrase.
Good boy.
So fucking good for me.
That’s it, sweetheart.
Fuck, you take sir’s cock so well.
So perfect.
No more. I promise. No more.
I’ll take care of you now.
I’m so fucking sorry.
