I drop the lube and a knife onto the bed next to us and begin tying the knots and threading the rope through the hidden O-rings tucked inside hidden compartments on the bed.
Tavish’s eyes follow my every move. They sparkle in delight and twinkle with mischief, and I secure his hands to the bedposts first, and then his knees to the headboard, so he’s held in place with his ass out.
I pull the belt from his neck, looping it together. I rub it over his ass, and he whimpers.
“Color?” I ask.
“Green, Daddy. So, so, so, so, so green. Like emerald green. Or forest green.”
I check the ropes once more since I’m a little rusty. They’re good, but it never hurts to check. Leaning over him, I say, “What color to stop?”
“Red.”
“To slow down?”
“Yellow.”
“Good boy.”
With the belt in one hand, I grab the lube and dribble some at the top o' his crack, letting it puddle there. He wiggles.
“Stop moving around.”
Instant stillness. His submission is beautiful.
Dribbling some lube down the length o' my cock, I slick it up, then tease his hole. The lube I puddled on his ass crack trickles down onto my fingers as I play with his hole. Tavish is struggling to hold still. Hell, I’m struggling not to bury my hard on in his fucking arse.
“Daaaddy…” he whines as I peg his prostate.
I want him open and ready for me because after I deliver his lashes, neither o' us will last long. Scissoring my fingers, he pants, gasping. Looking down, I see the puddle growing bigger as fluids drip from his cock.
“Do ye need a cock ring, pojke?”
“Nah…nah..no, Daddy. I’m good.”
I chuckle at his stutter. Leaning forward, I whisper, “We’ll see about that.”
More whimpers.
“How many days did ye keep me waiting?”
“Three, Daddy.”
“I think five lashes for every day. Ye will count every lash boy, and since this is funishment, a good punishment for nae following the rules is losing a number. So if you want all fifteen lashes, I best nae have to remind ye to count.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I rub his ass, waiting and watching for him to lose the anticipation. I want to take him by surprise. After a moment or two, he asks, “Daaaaaaa…” or he tries to, but I land the first lash directly across his butt, robbing him o’ his voice.
“One!” he yells.
Every lash is the same. The belt sings through the air, cracks against his skin, and he releases the count with an exhaled cry. The sounds blend beautifully.
He’s beautiful. He follows instructions exquisitely. Belt stripes mark his flesh, crisscrossing across the globes o’ his ass. He’s not the only one leaking precum onto the bed. There’s a steady stream leaking from my tip as well.
The rhythmic moves, and the forceful swings, have me panting to give the boy the experience he wants. That I want. Sweat breaks. My arms, chest, shoulders and back are getting a workout. One I’ve not had in years. There’s a vast difference in swatting his ass with my hand a couple o’ times and wielding a belt for a spanking like this.
“Fifteen!” He gasps, tears hitches his voice.
