“Walk.” I took him over to the St. Andrew’s cross and hummed to myself, before I ushered him across the room to the T-cross. He stumbled, but I snagged him by both shoulders to keep him upright. I pressed his front against the straight bar of wood that ran down the center of the cross and he gasped.
“Do not move.”
“Yes, Daddy.” His breath was raspy, and when he glanced over his shoulder at me, he seemed miles away on a cloud.
“Do you like this, baby boy? Do you like being wrapped up under Daddy’s care?”
“Yes, Daddy.” He rutted forward, so far gone that even friction against a lifeless piece of wood on his cock was good for him, and that sent sparks of need through my gut. I went over to the baker’s rack, amused because I’d seen the exact same one for sale at our local grocery store two summers back, and snagged the latex wrap. Max watched me with furrowed eyebrows as I came back to him.
With a kiss to the nape of his neck, I used both hands to slide the wrap around the wooden beam that supported the top part of the cross he leaned against, then pulled until I was able to bring the material entirely around Max as well as the wood. I sweated and flexed and had to put a foot on the wall and throw my weight into it, but I was able to get the latex to give enough to bring both sides together at his back. I had to lean an elbow against him, which must’ve hurt a little, but he only gasped out like I was slipping my dick into him as I slid the first hook through the circle eyelet on the back. I went right down the line of fastenings until he was anchored to the wooden beam.
“Daddy, fuck,” he gasped, and he couldn’t really do much, but his hips flexed forward and I laid a smack on his ass. He dropped his forehead against the wood and groaned. “Daddy!”
“Good boys don’t try to get off before their Daddy says they can. Maybe this should be a punishment?”
He stilled, and I could practically see him doing mental calculations. Did he want to be spanked? Did he want me to call him my good boy and fuck him? I smiled and chose for him.
“I saw you trying to wriggle around and rub your hard-on against your leather pants.”
“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry,” he said immediately.
“Too late for sorry. Daddy told you not to move.”
“Daddy, I need to. I’m so hard,” he wailed, and I wasn’t entirely sure if he was hamming it up, or if he was really that distressed.
I didn’t have a paddle, though there was a nasty little riding crop on the baker’s rack. I went over and picked it up. It was springy, seemed like leather-wrapped metal, which always hurt more than wood. I went back over to him and swatted a quick stripe across his ass. He gasped and his knees buckled a bit, but the latex held him up. “Daddy did not give you permission for that.”
“Daddy, sorry. Sorry,” he mumbled and dropped his forehead against the wood.
“I think ten is your punishment.”
He flexed and his knees shook. “Daddy, that hurt already!”
“Are you supposed to come without Daddy, baby boy?” I asked, stepping close to him so I could grind my crotch against his ass. He let out a yelp that quickly slid into a low moan.
“No, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy. Please don’t punish me, Daddy.”
“No, this is a lesson you’ll remember.” He tensed against me, and I could almost feel it happening inside him—the moment where this went from a fun game to somethingreal. He wasn’t getting exactly what he wanted… but didn’t want it to stop. He glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes glazed with tears.
“Daddy, I’m your good boy, I swear.”
“Good boys take their punishment when they earn one.”
His eyes widened and the struggle was written on his face: beg and he wasn’t a good boy, take the pain and it would hurt. He wanted to please me and wanted to avoid the punishment. “Yes, Daddy,” he finally said, his bottom lip trembling.
“Oh, youareDaddy’s good boy.”
He moaned and his hips jerked forward again.
I fought down a laugh as I stepped back and spanked his ass with the riding crop, catching both cheeks. He yelped but didn’t beg me to stop.
“Good boy, look how brave you are,” I cooed in his ear, and he thrashed and moaned.
The next time I gave him two in quick succession. “Daddy’s sweet boy, taking Daddy’s punishment. You’re so good.”
He struggled and his hips rutted forward again. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” he sobbed, but he didn’t beg me to stop.
Quickly I landed the rest of the blows on his ass, and he sagged, allowed the latex to support him.
