Page 242 of Bad for Me

The next strike with the whip is less about bruising and more about showing him just how much pain I can dole out. The sound of his cries, and the way his body leans into the whip, has me shuddering with desire.

I wish we were alone, not surrounded by an audience of people just as eager to see him bleed as I am.

He’smine.

Misha lets out a long gasp, and finally says, “One.”

I chuckle, the sound dark but breathless from my desire. “Good boy,” I tell him, and while the words are supposed to be mocking, they come out sounding almost like praise. Fuck.

Another lash; another number.

Again and again, welts rising up on his skin as he relaxes into each lash with the experience of someone who’s done this enough times to know the tips and tricks. I wish I had something harder, something more painful, but…

There will be time for that later on.

Misha lets out a long moan. “F-Fourteen,” he rasps out. His ass clenches and his thighs tremble.

I want to fuck him so badly.

My cock is straining against my zipper, but I’m not an animal. I’m not going to lose control like that in front of the entire room.

“One more,” I say, and this one’s the hardest strike of them all, an extension of my frustration and pent-up lust.

Misha cries out beautifully, arching his back into it. “Fif…” He groans. He flexes his back, which can’t be doing anything but making everything hurt more. “Fifteen.”

If this was a safe place like the local BDSM club, I’d take the time to bandage his wounds. But it isn’t, and the safe, sane, and consensual rules they have in place don’t apply in my world. All I do is grab a clean t-shirt to keep him from getting my car dirty.

It’s time to get home.

Suddenly, I’m desperate to be there, desperate to be able to sink my cock into his ass.

I hand the whip off to Angelo and hurry over to Misha, unfastening his wrists from the cross with fingers that feel too thick, too clumsy, in the wake of that lashing.

“Put this on,” I say, shoving the t-shirt into his hands. He turns just a little, and I catch a glimpse of his cock.

It takes me a moment to register that he’s actuallyhard.

“Well, then,” I say, reaching out to grab it and squeeze. “Isn’t this interesting?”

Misha looks at me with dilated eyes. “Don’t,” he whispers, and that’s the first thing he’s said today that sounds like an actual plea.

“Don’t what?” I ask him with a laugh. “I’m just going to take the edge off. Don’t you want to come, boy?”

“No,” Misha answers hoarsely. Then he laughs. “No rules and limits here.”

“Exactly, which is why you’re going to take your dick in your hand and masturbate for me until you come,” I say with a smirk. “Show everyone here just what a fucking slut you are already.” I lower my voice, telling him, “You could’ve just gone along with it until we were in private, pup. But no. You had to go and push your fucking luck. So jack off for everyone to see, then we’ll go home. Or I can just start a line of men to use you before I take you home.”

It’s a bluff. I’m not letting anyone use him — except maybe Angelo, but then, Angelo’s cock would wreck him beyond repair for at least a few days.

Misha glances around the room. Angelo waves at him with a lewd smirk.

“I hope you refuse,” Angelo says. He pulls his jeans taut over his crotch to make it clear just how much he’s packing there.

I chuckle. “I don’t. You’d ruin him for anyone else. But you have been so helpful that I’d be a bad friend not to offer…”

Misha shakes his head with a groan. “No.” He grips the shirt tighter, then wraps it around his cock. He starts stroking himself like that, through the t-shirt.

It’s hot, hotter than I would’ve expected even though I’m the one who gave the order. “There you go,” I say, reminding him I’m there — reminding him so many other people are there watching the show so he can’t forget it for even a moment.

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