Good enough for now.“Do you miss getting your ass beaten?”
“Yes, Sir. I enjoyed impact play.”
“Would you like to go to sleep with a red ass?”
His breath hitches. “Yes, Sir.”
“Then ask for it.”
I watch the way his throat works as he swallows. “I would like to go to bed with a red ass, Sir. Please.”
Removing my gun and holster, I set them on the bed. Then I return to the bathroom and make a big show of slowly stripping my black leather belt from my jeans. “Show me,” I tell him.
His eyes widen and he turns, getting on his knees and leaning over the edge of the tub.
“Good boy.” I step in, pin him by his collar, and give him five hard strikes across his ass cheeks with the belt, immediately dropping it and rubbing in the sting. As I do he softly moans and pushes his ass against my hand, craving my touch.
“That was very good,” I tell him. “Stay.” I retrieve my belt, return to the doorway, and close the door nearly all the way, just far enough he can still see my face. “I ask you again, do you think you can come to feel something for me?”
He maintains his position. “Yes, Sir. I do.” His voice sounds a little slurred and I think maybe I just dropped him into subspace from that quick taste of pain.
Reaching up, I peel the hot, sweaty balaclava off my head. “What about now? Turn around.” He does, and it takes a second, but I see the exact moment everything connects in his brain. “Don’t worry—Carter and his family are obviously in no danger, and won’t be. In fact, the only reason I didn’t kill you is because you told me he broke a promise to you. Good night, pet.”
I smile as I watch him lean, stunned and trying to see me for as long as possible before I close and lock the door.
* * * *
The morning of day four, I have to fight my eagerness to see what Eddie’s overnight processing brings to our growing dynamic. He didn’t make a peep all night long. I’d almost expected him to break and start beating on the door after I’d locked it, demand answers, beg me to talk to him.
But he didn’t.
He followed my rules.
I’m whistling when I carry his breakfast up the stairs and into the bedroom, happy to be rid of that goddamned mask. When I open the door, I find Eddie in the same kneeling position, ass pointed at the door.
Lubed.
“What is this position called?” I ask.
“She called itWorship, Sir.” Looking closer, I see he’s trembling.
“Are you cold?”
“No, Sir.”
“Nervous?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m certain you have questions.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“First, tell me your thoughts when I closed the door last night.”
Understandably, it takes him a moment. “I knew you weren’t him, but I guess it was instinctive I mistook you for him, Sir.”
“Him, who, specifically?”
