Cantrell leaned forward, stopping himself from reaching out to touch Illias just yet. Cantrell debated with himself on what would be the best course of action with Illias in such a delicate headspace. Clearly, he was seeking a distraction from his own mind, maybe even comfort in something that felt familiar. Safe. Seeing Illias like this pulled memories of past partners to the forefront of Cantrell’s mind. How they sought to chase out emotional pain with physical pain.
“Before we continue.” Cantrell brushed his thumb across Illias’ cheek. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you certain you’re in the headspace for games?”
Illias’ mouth parted and closed. He swallowed. “I need this.” His voice was small, almost like he was scared of admitting it. “Please, Father.”
With confirmation, Cantrell traced a finger down Illias’ strong jawline, enjoying the shuddering breath it drew from him. “Youmake it difficult to resist,” Cantrell said as he stopped his finger beneath Illias’ chin. “You’re so sure of yourself and so sure of your ability to get whatever you want that you willingly kneel at my feet with only a single suggestion.” Illias’ breathing hitched when Cantrell ran his thumb just below his lower lip. “What would you look like with that arrogance stripped away?”
“Fucking sexy.”
Cantrell was glad Illias was blindfolded so he didn’t see the smile the comment drew from him. “Your penance is for your wrath and envy.” Cantrell’s hand dropped to Illias’ neck, feeling his pulse quicken. “I’m going to beat the sin out of you, do you accept?”
“Shit,” Illias breathed, his smirk wavering. “Is that a promise?”
Cantrell tightened his grip on Illias’ neck enough to feel the sharp inhale it drew from him. “You’re going to regret that.”
Illias lifted his chin up as he leaned into his hand. “Is that so, Father?”
“You have a desk, yes?”
His smirk dropped and he licked his lips. “First door on the right down the hall.”
“Perfect.” Cantrell stood then helped him off the floor. He stepped behind Illias, tangled his fingers into his hair and pushed him forward gently. “Walk,” he ordered.
Illias stumbled forward, relying solely on Cantrell to lead him into the office. When Cantrell came to stop and released his hair, Illias stood still where Cantrell placed him. “How do you want me?”
“Discard your pants and put your hands on the desk,” Cantrell ordered, knowing Illias would take the opportunity to show off.
And that he did. Illias slowly pulled his sweatpants down, running his hands down himself and bending over for a few more seconds than necessary to pull the pants over his feet. He stood up and tossed the sweat pants to the side. Illias smirkedas he fingered the waistband of his soft pink jockstrap that complimented his brown skin.
“Impudent to the end, hm?” Cantrell clamped his hand down on the back of Illias’ neck and pushed him forward. “I said hands on the desk.”
Illias gasped but caught himself before he fell face first into it. “Pushy.”
In this position, Cantrell could see all the tattoos that littered Illias’ body. Old, faded stick-and-pokes, larger pieces of insects and several floral pieces. However, there was only one that made Cantrell’s gut churn with depraved want. Right above the waist band of Illias’ jock strap in black ink wasMade In Heaven.
Cantrell imagined himself indulging in running his hands across every exposed inch of Illias’ body. Imagined covering Illias’ thighs in kisses and bitemarks until he reached Illias’ perfect round ass.Cantrell’s teeth broke the skin on his lip and he swore softly. The flash of pain and copper taste that spread across his tongue brought him back from his fantasy.Remember your vows,he thought as he took a step forward to stand behind Illias.At least, what remains of them.Cantrell’s hand hovered above Illias’ ass. “Safe word?”
“Milk.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “It’s a long story.”
“You’ll have to tell me later. Are you ready for your penance?”
“Ready when you are, Father.” He pushed his ass out, swaying it slightly. “Have at it.”
The crack of Cantrell’s palm against his skin echoed in the room.
Illias jerked then bowed his head, a small laugh escaping him. “Is that all you got?” he taunted. “If it is, it’s going to take more than that to beat the sin out of me, Father.”
Cantrell gripped the back of Illias’ neck and pushed him down onto the desk. The startled gasp it caused brought gave Cantrell a sick sense of gratification. Cantrell squeezed slightly. “Grip theedge of the table above your head.” He noted the quickness with which Illias moved to follow orders and felt a surge of pride.Perhaps I haven’t lost my touch completely. “Let go of the desk or say your safe word and this ends, do you understand?”
“Yes Father.”
Cantrell brought his hand down across Illias’ ass, harder, faster than the one before. Spanking him over and over, not giving him any room to speak. Cantrell relished in the sound of his palm coming down against Illias’ ass. Enamored by how it reddened and rippled with every swing. Cantrell grew heady with arousal with each small noise that escaped Illias. Cantrell wondered how much Illias could take before needing to stop, how far he could be pushed, could bend. Cantrell delivered a sharp smack to the soft crease between ass and thigh, and Illias’ knees buckled momentarily.
“Tell me.” Cantrell dragged his nails across Illias’ undoubtedly tender bottom. Illias hissed and squirmed, but his hands never left the edge of the desk. “Is this what you had imagined when you debased the confessional that day?” Cantrell tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of Illias’ skull. “Is this what you dreamed of when you told me you would come from this?”
Illias only whined in response. Cantrell pulled Illias’ head off the desk by his hair while delivering a hard, quick slap to his ass. A rough, ragged swear tore from Illias’ throat.
“I asked you a question.” Cantrell gave a tug to Illias hair again. “Answer me.”
