As I moved along, I began dragging the cane over the mark I’d just made, drawing an agonizing groan from the pretty boy. My eyes never strayed from what I was doing, paying attention to the marks, ensuring I hadn’t split the skin. My cock twitched and jerked with every mark that appeared, proof that I was taking my pleasure from his pain. I’d been taking my time, purposely keeping him from soaring too high, but I knew he was ready for the encore.
Pure, raw satisfaction radiated from my insides as I released the last of the vicious blows that would send him into subspace, his mind detaching from his body as endorphins flooded his system, that natural high he worked so hard to receive taking over.
When I was finished, I set the cane down and returned to the pretty boy. I ran my hand over the marks, admiring my work, enjoying the way he hissed and flinched. I couldn’t wait to see the bruises that would appear later on.
I caught Mistress Jane’s attention and motioned her over. She brought along two male submissives who went to work unhooking the belts holding the pretty boy down. When they got him upright, I looked into his eyes. They glittered with heat, his cock rock hard from the experience. For the first time, I was tempted to lead him into an aftercare room and finish what we started. I could take care of him while he took care of me.
My gaze strayed to the cowboy, still kneeling at Ransom’s feet, and I decided against it. Aftercare was for someone else to handle. Once he was feeling more like himself, I would take them home and lose myself in the pretty boy for a little while.
Mistress Jane nodded toward me, her signal that she was taking my charge into her care. I didn’t nod back, choosing to go back to my toy bag and load up my gear, forcing my mind to detach from the scene.
The pretty boy was in good hands. I had to dispel the absurd discomfort I suddenly felt knowing someone else would be touching what belonged to me, caring for him. There was a reason I’d selected a Domme. My fuck toy would find her care clinical at best, nothing arousing.
For some reason, although I knew that deep down, it did little to assuage that strange possessiveness that erupted in my gut.
“Master Zeke? May I clean up for you now?”
Without looking at the submissive, I growled a confirmation, my eyes remaining on my bag. I inhaled deeply, let it out slowly. This wasn’t the time or place for me to get caught up in some misplaced feelings. In fact, as far as I was concerned, there was never going to be a time or place.
I simply had to figure out how to remind myself before I went and did something stupid.
*
Case
(The pretty boy)
MY ASS WAS ON FIRE. Even three hours later when we were back at Zeke’s, I could still feel the singe as that cane struck my ass. My jeans were causing friction, which made me grit my teeth. And yet my insides were glowing like hot coals. I wasn’t sure the last time I’d felt this damn good.
Zeke had been silent ever since he’d come to get me from the aftercare room, his body present but his mind somewhere off in the distance. Once I had floated back to earth and Mistress Jane had coated my welts in some ointment, we had returned to the Doms’ lounge, listening as everyone wanted to discuss the scene. I had kept my mouth shut while my ass blazed from the pain that lingered. The marks were there, the bruises already appearing, and I felt an odd sense of attachment to Zeke because he’d given them to me. Yet I had noticed he hadn’t acknowledged me since we left the club.
It was evident he wasn’t angry but he was rather morose, despondent. Brooding, maybe. Or perhaps he was simply reflecting back on the scene and this was how he did it. I wasn’t sure what it felt like for him to go through something like that because I’d never been in his shoes. I only knew how fucking incredible it was for me. And that had been, by far, the best caning I’d ever received. Zeke was a master when it came to delivering the painful blows. He hadn’t rushed, allowing the cane to sit on my skin, the delicious sensations coursing through me, vibrating in my balls, then working their way over my entire body. Every hit had been exquisite torture and I’d wanted it to go on forever.
Granted, I had seen my ass and my legs. I knew the damage that had been done. I knew Zeke had stopped because any more would’ve risked breaking the skin.
