Abas nods and swallows hard in response. “Yes.” His voice comes out rough and a bit shaky.
“You want me to punish you for what you did?” I ask.
His eyes widen just a little, a movement almost too subtle to notice in the dim light of the bedroom.
“Yes,” he whispers.
I take his jaw between my fingers and gently stroke the corners of his mouth. He closes his eyes and parts his lips around my thumb, drawing it in and then biting down.
“Get on the bed,” I say.
He moves immediately, getting on all fours near the edge. I look at his ass, presented to me, waiting for my next move. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable, makes my heart stutter. I drag my hand over his skin, tracing thick scars that wind nearly down between his legs. I want to know what happened to him, but I say nothing, afraid I’ll ruin the spell.
I feel like I’m standing next to myself, someone else commanding my limbs to move as they wish. I’m watching someone who looks just like me slide his hands over Abas’ exposed ass. I see it happen from afar, but I feel it all.
When I raise my right hand into the air, somehow, inexplicably, I feel more myself than I ever have.
A hollow smack resonates in the room when I make contact with his skin. He arches his back in response, a gasp escaping his lips. My hand stings more than I’d imagine, the feeling travelling up my arm.
“Do you want more?” I ask.
“Yes,” he replies, fisting his hands around the sheets in anticipation.
I hit him a bit harder this time. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want more,” his voice is hoarse when he replies.
I slap him two more times in rapid succession. A muffled groan leaves his throat, and I close my eyes, wanting to hear that sound again and again.
“Harder,” he adds through gritted teeth as I’m rubbing his back gently.
“You dare tell me what to do?” I smirk, remembering his words on that night not too long ago.
“I’m sorry,” he whines and leans back, searching for my hand to strike him again, seeking the sting.
I comply, my palm burning, my fingers electric. “What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry I shouted at you.”
The room is filled with the sounds of flesh on flesh, his ochre skin blooming burgundy under my hand. I glide my fingers over his back, soothing the redness as best I can.
“Please,” he whispers, “I want more.”
I obey his wishes and strike him again. My fingers tingle, nearly numb.
“I’m sorry I treated you like garbage.” His voice is breathless. “I’m sorry I want more,” he adds, almost a whimper. “I’m sorry I cannot stop myself.” Abas moans quietly, clearly trying to suppress the sound.
I rub his skin with my hand, and it feels surprisingly warm to the touch. I trace his scars with my fingers until his breath settles. Then, I step back, my eyes catching on his leaking cock.
“Sit,” I say, still standing at the bed’s edge.
He turns around until he’s facing me again, then sits. His eyes are the shade of dried wine, his lips flushed and glistening.He’s looking at me in a way that makes my head spin. Like I’m everything.
“You think me disgusting?” Abas asks, his voice too gentle, too vulnerable.
“Despicable,” I add with a grin.
He parts his lips. Needy.
