Pride.
He takes it like he takes everything else in his life, with his whole self. No shame, no apology. No shrinking from it or making himself smaller. He’s just open, breathing through it, trusting me to know where the line is even when he’s dancing close to it.
There’s arousal too, of course, especially when I see that first red line burned into his ass, growing brighter. My cock aches, so fucking hard in my dress pants.
But I ignore it.
Jackson needs my entire focus right now.
“Keep your ass in the air as long as you can, alright, sweetheart?”
He’s shaking, and I can see him wanting to fall, to sink into the mattress instead of holding himself up. But it’s easier for me to keep an eye on him like this, to make sure his cock stays hard, the one currently leaking all over our sheets. I trust him to use his safe word if he needs it, but if he drifts too far into subspace, he might not be able to tell where his own line is.
His head hangs between his shoulders, but he still manages a weak nod.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good boy.”
The next strike lands, not quite harder but placed with more intention, right below the one that came before. Then another right above. I adjust my angle. My timing. I’m not chasing pain so much as I am shaping it, turning it into something that gives instead of takes.
That’s where the real power lies.
After nearly a dozen strikes, his ass is that gorgeous shade of red that I’m quite literally obsessed with. My chest heaves, and a bead of sweat drips down my temple. Every one of those delicious noises he makes goes straight to my cock, and if I was fifteen years younger, there’s no way I would’ve been able to hold back from coming already.
“You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. Remember to breathe.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath at the reminder. Tears track down his cheeks, and I’m as obsessed with them as I am with his noises and the shade his skin has turned.
I snap the cane a few more times against his flesh until he’s sobbing again.
“I love the way you hurt for me, Jackson.”
Smack.
“The way you leak from your eyes and your cock.”
Smack.
“Making a mess of the bed.”
Smack, smack.
“A mess of yourself when you get so fucking wet like this.”
I start easing up, the next couple hits landing a little softer. But when the last one strikes, Jackson drops onto his forearms with a choked cry.
“Yellow!”
Without a second thought, I drop the cane on the bed and kneel beside him.
“Come here.”
As I cradle his head in my arms, his body slumps a little further down, and I nearly grin at the way hestillmanages to keep his ass in the air. I love how he’s always so determined to be good, but I also don’t want him to push himselftoohard.
Tears land on my forearms as I lean down to place a kiss against his sweaty temple.
“You’re okay,” I whisper as soothingly as I can while my voice is still raspy and breathless. “You’re safe. You did so good using your color, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. My good boy.”
