Page 102 of Connor and the Dragons

The second landed on the left. I arched my back and pushed my ass up at him, in case he had any doubt that I wanted more.

He did not make me wait. He spanked me in a steady rhythm, one side and then the other, and I counted each one out loud in a voice that got higher and less dignified as we went. Every smack rocked me forward, and my cock dragged between his clamped thighs, so that he was jerking me off with his legs and beating my ass at the same time. I was leaking all over his good robe.

After the fifth, his hand slid under me and closed around my cock. I was stiff as iron, and his grip sent a jolt straight through the burn in my ass. If I had any embarrassment left in me, the sound I made might have been embarrassing.

“Still with me,” he said, satisfied, and gave me one slow stroke that made my eyes cross.

Six through ten came harder. My skin was burning now, and each smack landed on a place that was already sore, and I loved it. I loved it so much that I forgot the number and had to be told.

“Ten,” Connor said, rubbing the burn in with his palm. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Sir. Eleven, please.”

Eleven cracked across the crease where my ass met my thighs, and I howled, and the sound echoed off the ceiling.

Fire raced through me. By fourteen there were tears in my eyes and I did not know how they had gotten there, and my head had gone strange. I felt light and slow, as if I had drunk a whole bottle of something very good, and I did not know if that was supposed to happen.

“Dragon,” I whispered.

Everything stopped. Connor’s palm settled flat and warm over the place he had just hit, and his other hand came up my spine to the back of my neck.

“Talk to me.”

“Nothing is wrong.” I twisted around to look up at him. “I feel funny. Like I am floating. Is that allowed?”

He smiled, his hand working its way down my back and up again. “That’s allowed. It’s called subspace, and it means I’m doing this right. Where’s Vyranthos?”

“Quiet. Quieter than he has ever been.”

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, it is so, so good. I fear twenty will not be nearly enough.”

Connor chuckled. “Forty, then?”

“Thousands, if you have the stamina.”

“Good boy. You used the word exactly right.” He bent and kissed my shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin there, and then sinking in. I cried out as the bite turned from a love nip into real pain, and I reached back and held his head right where it was, my cock jolting and dripping as the pain took me deeper into that soft, fuzzy place.

“Little slut likes pain,” Connor murmured as he kissed the sting away. “That’s fine. I can mark you up good, and Kess can admire it when he gets home.”

“Yes, please,” I said, and he settled me back over his lap, fingers biting into my sore ass as he spread me open, and then he spat on my hole and stuffed his thumb into it.

I moaned like a whore.

“Fifteen,” he said, and spanked me with his thumb still hooked inside me.

Then he stopped going easy on me.

He spanked me hard and fast, and he did not pause between them anymore. He held me open with one hand and smacked me with the other, and every blow clenched my hole around his thumb and shoved my cock through the tight, wet grip of his thighs. He landed one right over my hole and I screamed.

“Such a fucking good boy,” he said. “You’re so good for me.”

I lost the count somewhere in the twenties, and he took it over for me. I was sobbing, and I was begging him not to stop, and my ass was one solid blaze from my spine to my thighs. Every few strokes his hand went under me and found my cock and squeezed, and came away wet.

Vyranthos was silent, and there was nothing in my chest but me. I was a cock and a sore red ass across my master’s knee. I was a thing built for his pleasure, and I did not want to be anything else.

“Forty,” Connor said.