Pushing Connor (The Dungeon #4)(2)

The skin whitened, then reddened. Another blow landed just below the first, spaced perfectly from one end to another. He kept the blows soft, warming up the area. Wesley ran his free hand against the heated skin. Timmy shivered under the touch, a loud gasp shaking his shoulders. Wesley gave a little shudder of his own watching Timmy’s reaction, enhanced by the sensation of the toy in his ass.

Wesley hit him again, placing a new welt beneath the first two. This one was sharper. Timmy jumped, the gasp turning into a full cry. Wesley walked around until he was standing by Timmy’s shoulder. He used the tip of the crop to lift Timmy’s head, and searched the sub’s face and eyes, taking in the dilated pupils and swollen lips. There was no distress on Timmy’s face, so he felt that he could continue. From his spot, he could see Timmy’s cock jutting away from the patch of neatly trimmed hair covering his groin, its head red and glistening.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No, Sir.”

“Are you sure about that, boy? There are twenty more coming.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir what?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m fine.”

“That’s good, because I want you to count them.”

Wesley returned to his position at Timmy’s back.

“Start counting.”

The blows came in quick succession. Timmy rose on the balls of his feet, pushing his pelvis forward, trying to escape the bite of the crop.

“Back in position.”

Timmy obeyed.

“Where were we?”

“Ten, Sir.”

Wesley listened carefully to Timmy’s voice, noticing the dreaminess of it, and the slight strain, and decided to give him a little time to breathe.

He walked back around and tangled his fingers in the sub’s hair, lifting his head again, searching his eyes. They were hazed, wild, and wide. There was no real distress in them, yet Wesley could feel that Timmy was closer to the edge than usual. After walking back to his former position, he resumed, putting less force behind his blows. He hadn’t struck very hard to begin with, and normally Timmy’s pain tolerance was high, but today seemed to be different, and Wesley didn’t want to take any chances.

When the scene ended, Wesley walked the room, cleaning up and setting everything in order. A small pang of pain reminded him of the plug he was wearing. He stopped what he was doing, giving himself time to understand what he was feeling. Stop and think. That was the advice he always gave his subs, so it had to be a good idea.

For a moment, during the scene, he hadn’t thought he’d pull through. That little toy had proven to be an incredible distraction. Pain, arousal, adrenaline, and excitement at the situation were almost too much to bear. But once the scene had started in earnest, he’d pushed everything to the side. His own discomfort hadn’t mattered anymore. Hell, he’d barely felt it, his entire being focused on the man on his knees in front of him.

The phone ringing pulled him from his thoughts. He smiled to see his lover’s name displayed on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Wes. How’re you doing, babe?”

Wesley broke out in goosebumps at the sound of his lover’s voice. At thirty-five, he wouldn’t have expected to experience such a feeling. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes to better focus on Connor. “I’m good. You?”

“Thinking of you. What are you doing?”

Thousands of butterflies fluttered around in Wesley’s stomach at Connor’s confession.

“Setting things in order after a scene.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Wesley shrugged, unsure what to answer. He liked his job, but it was just that: a job. His enjoyment was not in the requirements. He considered himself a sort of counselor, nothing more, and he didn’t allow himself to take much pleasure from the scenes he held. The fun came after working hours, at home or, before Connor, in a fetish club, where he could fulfill his own fantasies, outside the confines and rules of The Dungeon.

“Yeah, it was fine.”

“Are you wearing it?”

Wesley pushed the phone tighter against his cheek, his muscles giving an involuntary clench. Connor didn’t have to clarify to what he was referring too. Wesley already knew: the butt plug. Thinking of it had his muscles clenching around it, pleasure, mixed with a slight discomfort, shooting through him.

“Yes.” He couldn’t stop his breath from catching as he answered.

“Good.” At the other end of the line, Connor gave a similar hitch, but Wesley could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you hard?”

Wesley’s cock gave a little jerk, as if drawing attention to itself. “Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“God, yes.”

“Hmm.” Connor’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you hard for me? Can you imagine my hands stretching you?” The words poured into Wesley’s ear, each of them evoking an image, and each image translating into a sensation. Warmth spread through his body as he pictured himself in the arms of his lover.

At the other end of the line, he heard the rustle of clothes and the sound of a zipper being lowered. His eyes snapped open as the meaning sank in. Wesley swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, as he imagined Connor with his cock in his hand.