sexual interest not even in play. He squeezed, the flesh squishing beneath his grip. “This isn’t sexual.”
“No shit.”
“Yet you want me to fuck you?”
“You want to fuck me,” Sawyer scoffed.
“Not to hurt you.” Not that way. “I’m not a rapist.”
“Not rape,” he grunted out, pushing his ass back.
Ash shoved away, almost tripping over Sawyer’s raised leg. His foot was still lifted, sole displayed and ready for more.
The sick bastard.
His sadist cackled.
It takes one to know one.
He took a deep breath, centered himself, and thought back to their earlier byplay, to the stream of taunts that seemed to flow from Sawyer. He was goading Ash, to get him to react with anger instead of the logic required in his position. Did that shit seriously work on other guys?
Ash crowded back in, the heat simmering off Sawyer to draw him closer. Sawyer stiffened and pulled away almost imperceptibly. He noted it, though, logged it into his growing list of Sawyer facts.
The sweet and bitter scent swirled around him when he pressed his lips over Sawyer’s ear, exhaled. Waited. “I’ll fuck you when you’re ready. I’ll fuck you and make it burn—if it’ll make you cry.” He ran the edge of the switch up the inside of Sawyer’s leg until it nestled against his balls. Sawyer’s breaths increased, head tilting to rest against Ash’s.
Beautiful.
“But I won’t fuck you simply to pleasure myself.”
He brought the switch up in a quick flick of his wrist. The impact was deliberately light, a grazing more than a blow.
The air rushed from Sawyer’s chest. He buckled forward, jaw clenched around the heaving inhalations through his nose. The trembling was back, his whole body shaking.
Ash ran his free hand over Sawyer’s abdomen, relishing the tight muscles and tense hold. He stopped over Sawyer’s heart, the beat racing. He hummed his approval, snagged ahold of Sawyer’s earlobe with his teeth.
“More?” he taunted because he could.
He didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed ahold of the nipple beneath his palm and twisted. The vicious act was timed with another flick of his wrist. The switch nailed Sawyer’s balls, the end flipping out to tag his dick.
Sawyer’s cry wasn’t loud or full of volume, but somehow it was more satisfying than a blatant scream.
He stepped back abruptly and brought the switch down on Sawyer’s ass. The low swoosh and subsequent thud of impact raced over him. It sung to his sadist, sprinted through his blood to tighten in his groin. He kicked Sawyer’s foot to the ground and laid five more strikes on the pale ass cheeks, the last one landing on the sensitive crease where his ass met his thighs.
Sawyer’s bellow of pain rippled the air before he crumpled forward, palms sliding down the rough bark to encircle the tree. His back heaved, forehead digging into the bark, legs quivering, but he was still on his feet.
Still standing.
It was the hottest thing Ash had seen in a very long time—if ever. The suffering was evident, but the power behind the pain was intoxicating.
His dick was hard and insistent in his pants. The desire to fuck him teetered on the edge of what his sadist wanted and still craved.
Distance was Sawyer’s retreat. The safety zone he kept erected around him in defense. The man in him respected that space, but this was a scene and his sadist ruled. No limits outside of degradation and a stick up Sawyer’s ass meant everything was in play.
He shoved up behind Sawyer, the front of his pants pressing hard against the fresh marks on Sawyer’s ass. Another grunt, but Sawyer pushed back, hips grinding over Ash’s erection.
Fucking
…Ash closed his eyes and savored the rush. Sawyer wasn’t done. He’d keep going until he couldn’t feel anymore and then he’d continue to push.
So damn dangerous.
Ash had seen it in a very few. The men who truly relished and needed the pain for whatever reason. His sadist longed to uncover the why, and now was no
“No shit.”
“Yet you want me to fuck you?”
“You want to fuck me,” Sawyer scoffed.
“Not to hurt you.” Not that way. “I’m not a rapist.”
“Not rape,” he grunted out, pushing his ass back.
Ash shoved away, almost tripping over Sawyer’s raised leg. His foot was still lifted, sole displayed and ready for more.
The sick bastard.
His sadist cackled.
It takes one to know one.
He took a deep breath, centered himself, and thought back to their earlier byplay, to the stream of taunts that seemed to flow from Sawyer. He was goading Ash, to get him to react with anger instead of the logic required in his position. Did that shit seriously work on other guys?
Ash crowded back in, the heat simmering off Sawyer to draw him closer. Sawyer stiffened and pulled away almost imperceptibly. He noted it, though, logged it into his growing list of Sawyer facts.
The sweet and bitter scent swirled around him when he pressed his lips over Sawyer’s ear, exhaled. Waited. “I’ll fuck you when you’re ready. I’ll fuck you and make it burn—if it’ll make you cry.” He ran the edge of the switch up the inside of Sawyer’s leg until it nestled against his balls. Sawyer’s breaths increased, head tilting to rest against Ash’s.
Beautiful.
“But I won’t fuck you simply to pleasure myself.”
He brought the switch up in a quick flick of his wrist. The impact was deliberately light, a grazing more than a blow.
The air rushed from Sawyer’s chest. He buckled forward, jaw clenched around the heaving inhalations through his nose. The trembling was back, his whole body shaking.
Ash ran his free hand over Sawyer’s abdomen, relishing the tight muscles and tense hold. He stopped over Sawyer’s heart, the beat racing. He hummed his approval, snagged ahold of Sawyer’s earlobe with his teeth.
“More?” he taunted because he could.
He didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed ahold of the nipple beneath his palm and twisted. The vicious act was timed with another flick of his wrist. The switch nailed Sawyer’s balls, the end flipping out to tag his dick.
Sawyer’s cry wasn’t loud or full of volume, but somehow it was more satisfying than a blatant scream.
He stepped back abruptly and brought the switch down on Sawyer’s ass. The low swoosh and subsequent thud of impact raced over him. It sung to his sadist, sprinted through his blood to tighten in his groin. He kicked Sawyer’s foot to the ground and laid five more strikes on the pale ass cheeks, the last one landing on the sensitive crease where his ass met his thighs.
Sawyer’s bellow of pain rippled the air before he crumpled forward, palms sliding down the rough bark to encircle the tree. His back heaved, forehead digging into the bark, legs quivering, but he was still on his feet.
Still standing.
It was the hottest thing Ash had seen in a very long time—if ever. The suffering was evident, but the power behind the pain was intoxicating.
His dick was hard and insistent in his pants. The desire to fuck him teetered on the edge of what his sadist wanted and still craved.
Distance was Sawyer’s retreat. The safety zone he kept erected around him in defense. The man in him respected that space, but this was a scene and his sadist ruled. No limits outside of degradation and a stick up Sawyer’s ass meant everything was in play.
He shoved up behind Sawyer, the front of his pants pressing hard against the fresh marks on Sawyer’s ass. Another grunt, but Sawyer pushed back, hips grinding over Ash’s erection.
Fucking
…Ash closed his eyes and savored the rush. Sawyer wasn’t done. He’d keep going until he couldn’t feel anymore and then he’d continue to push.
So damn dangerous.
Ash had seen it in a very few. The men who truly relished and needed the pain for whatever reason. His sadist longed to uncover the why, and now was no
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