His eyes were still closed and I wanted to make sure his eyes were clear and that he didn’t look troubled.
“Open your eyes, Ryan,” I instructed.
When I saw those big brown eyes staring up at me, I saw all of his trust staring up at me. I felt that familiar squeeze in my chest and drop in my stomach. I smiled back at him and told him that I loved him just before I kissed his forehead and patted the back of his head.
As I picked up my flogger from the table, I noticed there were now a lot more people standing by to watch than I had initially thought. I didn’t let it slow me down and I returned to Ryan with the flogger at once.
I placed the heavy falls of the flogger on his upper back, dragged it down over his butt, and then pulled it back. I stood behind him and peppered his ass with firm swats that left horizontal pink marks on his flesh. I alternated using a backhanded motion to go from left to right, and then a forward motion from right to left.
The coloring of his flesh and his faint grunts were like dry brush being added to the fire that burned within me for him. He looked incredible secured to the bench with his ass on display. When I reached the swat count of forty, I noticed Ryan’s hands had gone from a relaxed position to being curled up. I paused and went to his side; his eyes were closed.
“Ryan, are you doing okay?” I asked in an even tone while I rubbed my hand over his warm ass and his lower back.
“Yes…Russ—Sir, I mean.”
Was he slipping?
“Ryan, open your eyes. Let me see you, my boy.”
I was hoping that by using his name and the phrase “my boy” would reconnect him to me if he was slipping. When he opened his eyes, he blinked a few times and then looked up at me. Now that he was looking at me, I felt the need to ask him again.
“Doing okay, my boy?”
“Yes, Sir,” Ryan murmured.
I stared at him for a few moments. While I rubbed the small of his back, I rubbed my hand over his left balled up fist.
“Are you sure, Ryan?”
He nodded. But what I was suddenly concerned about was that his hand felt cool. I slipped my fingers between his wrist cuff and his skin to check for tightness.
“Is the cuff too tight, Ryan?” I asked and leaned over him to feel his right hand.
The right hand wasn’t cool at all, in fact, it felt nice and warm. Regardless, I checked the right wrist for tightness as well. But it was appropriately fastened just like the left side.
“No, it’s not too tight, Sir,” Ryan confirmed.
“Do you feel alright?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Shall we continue?” I asked him.
Ultimately, it was my responsibility to decide if we continued or not. I just wanted to hear him talking a little.
“Yes, Sir. I’d like to continue.”
I nodded and asked him to keep his eyes open for me. As my hand skimmed down his back, I felt his body rise into my hand again. I slapped one of his ass cheeks and then grabbed it. Feeling his firm flesh in my hand reminded me of what his body does to mine.
The flogging continued, but I had moved from striking his ass to delivering the swats to the backs of his legs. My eyes became glued to the tiny bit of fabric that separated Ryan’s groin and the spanking bench. Nestled firmly in the pouch of that jockstrap was a cock and set of balls that I ached to feast my eyes on. With each swat on the back of his legs, his body moved forward and the fabric moved ever so slightly. Though slight, the movement of the fabric gave me a peek at his balls.
I made no change to the pattern of the swats, nor had I increased or decreased the intensity. But suddenly his body reacted very differently than on any other swat tonight. Ryan’s body jerked to his right and his back rounded. I knew we hit a stopping point and stepped toward him.
“Ryan,” I called.
His body stilled when I put my hand on the small of his back. I was pleased that at least he didn’t try to move away from me. His eyes were tightly closed though, and the muscles of his arms were prominent and flexed. I glanced at his left hand and it was in a tight fist. The leather was digging into his skin because of the way he was trying to pull his arms tight against his body. His wrists were a deep red against the cuffs, but his fingers and knuckles were pale. I urgently needed to calm him down and get him to reconnect before he had a full-on anxiety attack.
“Ryan, my boy,” I whispered close to his ear.
