Page 33 of The Associate
He heard the soft shuffle of bare feet; the rustle of the simple cotton drawstring pants Leo wore being pushed down to hisankles. A moment of stillness, then the quiet creak of the heavy, padded wooden bench as Leo assumed the position: on his knees, torso laid forward over the bench’s width, chest down, ass presented high and round in the air, cheeks parted slightly by the posture. The perfect, offering arch.
Gael finally turned.
Leo was trembling, just a fine, initial shiver of adrenaline and anticipation. It was a good sign.
Predictable.Not like the other one…
Gael’s mind supplied, unbidden. Samuel’s tremors were jagged, laced with terror and a shame so deep it was erotic poison. He pushed the thought aside, a hard, mental shove.
He picked up the silk blindfold first. Approaching silently, he stood over Leo. “Color.”
“Green, Sir,” came the muffled, eager reply.
Gael draped the silk over Leo’s eyes, tying it securely at the back of his head. Gael’s hands, cool and dry, ran down the length of Leo’s spine, feeling the muscles jump under his touch. He traced the twin dimples at the base of his back, then cupped the full, pale globes of his ass, squeezing once, assessing. Leo whimpered, pushing back minutely into the contact.
"Look at you," Gael sneered, his voice low and dripping with contempt. "Already gagging for it. You’re just a greedy little hole waiting to be filled, aren't you?"
“Yes, Sir,” Leo breathed, the words falling easily from his lips.
“I know you are.” Gael’s voice dropped, taking on a condescending, almost bored edge. “You’re pretty, Leo. A pretty little thing. But that’s all you are, isn’t it? A slut who thinkshis only worth is right here," he said, delivering a sharp, open-handed smack to the exposed ass. The sound cracked in the quiet room. Leo cried out, his back arching. "You live for this. For being told what a useless, cock-hungry toy you are."
He began with a double-column tie at the wrists behind Leo’s back, his fingers moving swiftly. The hemp whispered as it wound, cinching snug but not cruel. “You think about this all week, don’t you? My hands on you. My approval. It’s the highlight of your otherwise insignificant little life.”
“Yes, Sir,” Leo moaned, the humiliation a direct hit to his kink, making him press his hips harder against the bench.
He admits it so easily, Gael thought, a spike of contempt, and envy, piercing his focus.
He wears his need like a badge. Samuel hides his. Samuel’s need is a landmine, buried deep.
Annoyed with himself, he finished the tie and moved to Leo’s ankles, securing them to the legs of the bench, spreading him open. He was fully exposed now, bound, and blind, a feast of vulnerability. Gael selected the deerskin flogger, its falls soft but thuddy. He let it drag across Leo’s skin first, a teasing whisper.
“Such a lovely canvas,” Gael said, his voice a dark caress. He raised his arm and brought the flogger down in a measured, heavy swing.
Thud.
Leo cried out, a sharp, sweet sound of surprise-pain-pleasure. A rosy bloom appeared on the white skin.
"Look at that," Gael smirked, laying another stroke right beside the first. A rosy bloom spread. "You mark up so pretty. Like youwere made for it. Made to be used. You love that, don't you, slut?"
“Y… yes, Sir!”
Thud. Thud.
The rhythm began, steady and implacable. Gael watched the color spread, a heat-map of his control. With each impact, Leo’s body jolted, his breathing grew more ragged, his soft cries more desperate. Gael took it in, a cold, vicious satisfaction curling in his gut. This was control. This was simple. This was a need he understood and could control.
"God, you're taking that so well," he said, his tone shifting to a mocking, pitying praise. "Such a good boy for me. Just a good little whore, made to take his beating. Isn't that right?"
"Yes! I'm your whore, Sir! Your good boy!" Leo sobbed.
"You're nothing," he hissed, the words coming faster, filthier. "You know that? A warm, tight hole. A set of pretty reactions I bought for the night. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Because you're a desperate, worthless slut."
"Anything! I'm yours, Sir, I'm worthless!" Leo chanted, his voice breaking on a scream as the suede bit deep.
The raw, abject surrender should have been enough. It always had been in the past. But now, it just made the other absence louder.
Gael felt detached, a conductor hearing an orchestra play a familiar, simplistic tune. His mind kept slipping back to a different rhythm: the stuttered hitch of a breath, the frantic flutter of a pulse in a slender throat.
Frustration coiled, hot and tight, in Gael’s gut. He swapped the deerskin for the suede flogger. It was lighter, sharper, a sting rather than a thud.
