I hum and watch him until he starts to squirm, then I place a hand between his shoulders, shoving him down. “And do you know why you're about to be punished?”
“I…” he hesitates, and a shudder runs through him, his sob is both audible and shakes his entire being. “I punched someone. I said terrible things to him… I started a fight rather than trusting you.”
“Yes, yes you did. Anger is allowed. You're allowed to be upset, to be pissed off, but what you are not allowed to do is use that anger against members of this family.”
“Marcus isn't part of this family,” he spits, struggling against the dresser.
“Quiet. If you're going to act like an insolent brat, I will treat you like one. Tell me you understand?”
“I understand, Sir. Please…”
Trusting him, I back up so there's enough space to swing the flogger. He gasps at the first taste of it, but as I move from light to more firmer touches, his moans start up alongside the steady slap of leather against skin. The thicker, heavier falls will leave a deep, thuddy feeling, easing him into the pain we both know is to come.
I warm up his ass and thighs, and venture a little further down his legs, as this will take a while, I think, and I don't want to damage him by limiting the area.
Once his skin is nice and pink, I slow my movements down again, before eventually stopping.
Moving close once more, I run my hand across his warm ass, enjoying the loud groan he lets out. I keep a hand on him, even as I drop the toy onto the dresser and let out a slow breath.
Tugging at my curls a little, I ground myself. My former mentor’s teachings are in the back of my mind, even though I know what I'm about to do will go beyond what he believed I wanted.
The thing is, though…I just never had a willing partner to test out how far I can push…and find the delicate balance of being what Antonio needs, while not becoming Allesandro… No pressure.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I drag my fingers across his ass to let him know I'm here, then head to the bench, where I left the cane.
Picking it up, I let the weight settle in my hand and give a few test swings.
A grin stretches across my lips as I hold the cane at my side, and move in to once more run a hand across my Boy’s pretty ass.
“Remember,” I tell him, “this stops when you're ready…or when I am.”
“Yes, Sir.” His words are barely audible, and I give a quick flick of my wrist, striking the cane across the side of his ass in reprimand. “Sorry, Sir,” he says louder.
I chuckle. “You're about to be.”
Stepping back, I readjust my grip on the cane, take another breath, and strike Antonio across his ass.
The sharp sting on top of his already aching ass will be a nice little shock to his system, especially after the little pause we had.
Antonio gasps, and I smile wider, before doing it again and again.
I cover his ass in overlapping stripes before moving to the tops of his thighs and giving them the same treatment. I go all the way down, until just a few inches above the back of his knees, before making the journey up again.
I listen carefully to the pitch of his cries, and watch as his ass and legs turn from a rosy-pink to bright-red then deep-red. Ican already see some welts forming on the areas I've struck more often.
In a normal situation, this is where I would stop. But Ican't. Not just because caning my Boy feeds some dark, primal part of me, but because I need Antonio flayed open. He needs to be stripped down until nothing but the pain he's been holding onto for far too long is at the surface, and the only thing he can do is get it out.
So even with my shoulder and arm screaming at me, and the hip Jayden has already adjusted once this week twinging with every movement, I don't stop.
Layer upon layer of cane stripes and bruises appear, until I lay a few more hard strokes right across his ass, overlapping the first stripes and their many layers, and that's when I call it. My body screams at me as I tap his ass a few times to bring him down, before stopping altogether.
The only sounds left in the room are my harsh breathing and Antonio’s pitching, whining cries.
Stumbling over to him, I drop the cane onto the dresser, setting a hand on Antonio's back to soothe him. Pulling out my phone, with shaky fingers, I text the twins to bring the ice, and then I focus all of my attention on the Boy underneath me.
“Come on, Bello. Onto the bed.”
He shakes his head. “Please, Sir… I'm not ready…”
