“Praise?” he asked next. “Humiliation?”
“Sometimes yes.”
“I think you like praise all the time.” He tested the correction, tightening his hand around my erection to gauge my arousal. “Humiliation sometimes, maybe. In context.”
In reply, I whimpered.
Marshall hummed, moving through his mental checklist. “Clearly you like bondage and spanking.”
“Very much.” My shaft pulsed against Marshall’s palm.
The conversation was killing me. He touched me with such tenderness, and all I wanted was for him to rough handle me right into another orgasm.
“And you like it rough.”
“Yeah. Yes.” My nodding turned more aggressive. “Dangerously so.”
He pursed his lips, turning his head at a slight angle to continue his appraisal of me. “Elaborate.”
“I like when it hurts. I like if I’m a little scared I’ve gone too far,” I admitted.
“And you’ve pursued this with strangers?” he asked, letting go of my cock and grabbing my thighs. Marshall hauled me a couple of feet down the bed until the backs of my thighs were on top of his, my lower half higher in the air than my upper half.
“Sometimes.”
He walked his fingers over the tops of my legs until they were nestled against the insides of my thighs, and then he pinched me.
Hard.
The sharp stings were blinding, and my body instinctively fought against his, thrashing to chase escape but only twisting myself deeper into the shocking pinch.
“That’s careless,” he said, releasing my skin.
“I know.”
“I encourage your friendship with Lincoln in whatever form the two of you need that to take, but you will treat my body with more care than you have been. Isn’t that right, Silas?” He delivered a sharp slap against the quickly blooming pinprick bruise. “This body is mine now, right?”
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Yes. Yes. I’m sorry.”
And I was.
“Good.” His fingers turned gentle, soothing the places he’d just hit. “How do you feel about exhibitionism?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Context,” I said.
He made a thoughtful sound. “Duly noted. What about free use?”
“I…” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“It wouldn’t be entirely free. It would be people I selected. Vetted. There would be rules, of course.”
“You take care of your things,” I murmured, and Marshall smiled down at me like I was a prize worth winning. “Also context, I think.”
“Thank you for being honest with me.” He petted his hands down my thighs toward my knees, and the only thing I wanted to do was bare myself entirely for him. With the current line of questioning, we were well on the way. “Breath play?”
