“Lay down on your stomach after you take your shirt off.” I kept my voice calm. “I’m only putting cream on your back. Nothing more will come of my touch.”
I knew the moment my words reached him. His back stiffened, but then he took his shirt off in one smooth motion. He paused for a second before climbing onto the mattress. The way he settled made something in my chest ache. He lay flat, arms tucked close, head turned to the side so he could watch me with those watchful blue eyes of his.
The sheets dipped slightly under his weight as he shifted to where he at least appeared to be comfortable. He looked small and tired, and maybe just a tad bit trusting.
It was another one of those moments I wanted to capture forever.
I set the tube of cream on the nightstand and rolled up my sleeves as I approached the bed.
“Good boy,” I murmured. “Just stay like that.”
His shoulders rose and fell with a quiet breath, the tension in them already loosening at the sound of my voice.
I sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed a bit of cream into my palm, rubbing my hands together to warm it before touching him.
“Alright, I’m going to start.”
He gave the smallest nod against the pillow and closed his eyes tightly.
I laid my hands on his back, slow and steady. His skin was warm under my palms, tense at first, then gradually loosening as I spread the cream across the sore spots. He let out a quiet breath, barely audible, but enough to tell me the relief was hitting.
Kasey’s back was worse today than the first time I saw it. The bruises were dark, aging in the way that they do. The marks were scabbed over, soft still from his bath earlier. And the welts…a couple were oozing and I made a mental note to keep a very close eye on them.
“You’re doing good, sweetheart.” I spoke softly, working in the cream. “Just breathe.”
His fingers curled in the sheets, not from pain, just from being touched at all. He wasn’t sued to this kind of attention. Not used to someone tending to him without expecting anything in return.
After a moment, he spoke, a voice muffled by the pillow. “I…I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what, sweetheart?”
“I didn’t mean to disobey the handler. He…he made…. used….” He huffed, not able to find his words at first. “He cleaned me out and I cried too much for him, even though he wanted me to cry.”
Kasey shook his head, either not wanting to say the words, or not sure how. Then, with his eyes closed, he talked. The words were quiet, just above a whisper, but he got them out, and I listened. I’d always listen to him.
“The…the one before you…he did some of them. He…he wanted to make me bleed. But he wasn’t the first to do so. The handlers were never happy with me. I never learned to behave how they wanted me. It’s my fault I couldn’t take punishments well. They…they’d want me to kneel for hours on end. Sometimes I couldn’t stay long enough, falling over and having to break the position. But the Alpha before you – the first one ever – liked it rough. He wanted me to hurt and cry and plead. And I did. He got everything he wanted. I hated it. Hated the need that thrummed through me while he did, too?
I kept my hands moving, slow circles with gentle pressure. I didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound even though hatred boiled in my blood at the people who got their hands on my Omega. I wanted to track them down and ruin their lives.
But I wasn’t going to dare interrupt him. Not when he was willing to talk without me having to drag out the answers.
“I never wanted to be there. But if you want me to go back, I will. I won’t fight. But I want to be the best Omega for you, Sir. I’ll handle pain if you want to hurt me. I’ll tryreallyhard not to beg and cry when it gets too much. But Ihurtand I’mtired.And I know I’m trained to withstand all that. But now I’m doing it again. Telling you too much stuff that you didn’t ask. And it doesn’t seem to stop. And I really, really miss Mama and ice cream. I haven’t had that since I got put at that place. But I don’tneedthem. You’ve given me more than I could ever need. And I’m very, very thankful for all the clothes. And the shoes. And I’ll do laundry all the time and whatever chores you assign to me. I promise I won’t try tonotdo them, either. Even though your punishments don’t sound like punishments. Because being punished should hurt.”
When he finally stopped long enough to take a breath, I applied more cream to my hands before returning to massing it into his skin, even if every inch of his back was already covered.
“Being punished will never hurt while you are in my house, in my care. And even then…” I’d tell him that over and over. Until he got it through his head that I’d never hurt him. “You are doing fine so far. And you’re trying. That’s what matters.”
At my words, his body relaxed more.
“I wanna be good, Sir. Good for you always.”
“You already are.” He didn’t even have to try.
I didn’t push for more from him, since he already gave me so much. I just kept working the cream in, slow and steady, giving him time to absorb the words at his own pace.
“Almost done,” I whispered, his breathing evening out. “You’re doing so good. Such a good boy.”
A deep sigh ghosted from his lips at my words. If praise got me further to earn his trust, then I’d give him praise constantly.
