Page 219 of Ride With Me

Oh jeez. If I weren’t caged, I’d be hard again already.

His footsteps recede and then return. There’s a sound like something sliding against fabric that I can’t quite place. Until he says, “Remember when I said I’d blister your ass until you can’t sit down for a week?”

There’s another rustling sound behind me and then an unmistakablethwackthat I hundred percent recognize. My skin tightens with anticipation and my stomach drops.

He is going to make thishurt.

“Sir, please.”

Soft leather trails lightly over my ass, a contradictory tease of what’s to come. “Please what?”

My whole body gives a deep shiver. The moment before the first impact stretches out impossibly.

I want it.

I don’t want it.

“Please…yes?” He trails the end of his belt over my skin again. It falls between my ass cheeks and slides along my crack.

“Please…no?” He snaps the folded belt between his hands again, and the threatening sound ramps up my anticipatory dread.

I don’t want to choose. “Please,” I whimper.

I don’t get to choose, which is exactly why I’m strapped to this bench, and he is standing over me with all the accoutrements of his choice at his hand.

And despite the warning and the teasing touches, he still catches me off guard when the first blow lands.

CHAPTER 8

We’rein a cabin that’s like a sadist’s playground. Before he strapped me down on this bench, I caught glimpses of floggers, paddles, riding crops, a dozen different things he could hit me with.

But he chose a belt.Hisbelt, I’m pretty sure, though my memory of what he was wearing when I got into his car is a little fuzzy right now. Maybe he brought it with him in that duffel bag.

And then I quit thinking about the whys and wherefores of what he’s hitting me with, because it’s the getting hit that drives everything else out of my brain.

The belt snaps down on my bare ass and the end curls over my side with an extra bite. It hurts—of course it fucking hurts—but it’s a lower, deeper hurt than the knife cuts. I can’t help but tense up at the first few blows, even though I know that makes it worse.

He is very, very good at this. The first blow was across the fleshiest part of my ass, but then he moved to the very top and is raining blows in a steady tempo, moving slightly down every time. Each blow just barely overlaps the one before and he’s working me up to taking it on the backs of my thighs, which are more far sensitive.

Usually, when my Daddy spanks me, he makes me count out loud. Sir doesn’t demand that, but I’m so used to counting, that I know it’s at six that I quit tensing up before the hits and just let them happen.

I think he notices, because there’s a grunt behind me and his large hand comes down and rests around the middle of my back. He doesn’t rub or stroke me, but the warm weight of his hand grounds me.

“You’re going to take anything I give you, aren’t you, boy?” He sounds viciously pleased and just a little surprised.

Of course I am. That’s the whole point.

I take everything he has to give, and I give up everything I have to him. I belong to him.

And he belongs to me.

The blows stop and there’s a slithering sound that ends in a soft thud. He’s dropped the belt and it’s laying in an innocuous pile under the bench. I hear a rustle of clothing behind me, the unmistakable snap of a lube bottle opening, and then I feel a cold smear across my hole.

Which is all the prep I get before he shoves his cock into me.

Even with the pain relaxing me and the forced spread of my legs and ass cheeks, I’m not ready for this. The blunt head of his cock jams up against my entrance and for a long, long moment, I’m sure he’s never going to fit.

His hands grab at my ass, his thumbs digging into my flesh, spreading me wide. “No, please, Sir,” I beg. “I can’t.”

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