Page 112 of Body and Soul

Shepherd's hand fell again and again, the blows coming faster now, harder. I counted each one, the numbers tumbling from my lips in a breathless litany, the thanks following on their heels. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

By the fifteenth strike, I felt like I was barely tethered to my body anymore. It was as if some essential part of me had detached, floating free on a sea of endorphins and adrenaline. The pain was distant now, muffled, like something happening to someone else entirely. In its place was a bone-deep sense of peace, of rightness.

I was lost in a haze of sensation, my mind adrift. The world had narrowed down to the heat of Shepherd's hand against my skin, the sharp sting of each blow, the deep ache that radiated out from my core. I was vaguely aware that I was still counting, still thanking him, but the words seemed to come from somewhere outside of me, disconnected from the floating, blissful creature I'd become.

Time stretched and warped, losing all meaning. There was only the rhythm of Shepherd's strikes, the steady cadence of pain and pleasure that kept me tethered to my body even as my mind soared free. Each impact sent a jolt of electricity through my nerves, lighting me up from the inside out until I was glowing, incandescent.

I didn't notice when the spanking stopped. One moment I was riding the crest of a wave, the next I was sinking down into a warm, dark sea, my limbs heavy and languid. Distantly, I feltShepherd's hands on me, his touch gentle now as he gathered me into his arms.

He cradled me against his chest, murmuring soft words of praise and reassurance. “That's it, sweet boy. You did so well for me. Such a good boy, taking your punishment like that. I'm so proud of you, Eli. So proud.”

His voice was like honey, sweet and syrupy thick. I wanted to swallow the sound of it, which made no sense, but I had this odd primal urge to get some part of him in part of me, anyway I could.

I nuzzled into Shepherd's chest, my face pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. His scent wrapped around me, a heady mix of spice and leather that made me feel safe, cherished. The steady thump of his heart beneath my ear was the only measure of time I needed.

Shepherd's hands roamed over my body, his touch light and soothing, almost reverent. He traced the curve of my spine, his fingers skimming over each knob and ridge, mapping the topography of my back. His other hand cradled the nape of my neck, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the sensitive skin there.

I felt boneless, weightless, as if I were floating in a warm sea, buoyed by the strength of Shepherd's arms. The pain of the spanking had receded, leaving behind a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. It was a good ache, a cleansing one, as if Shepherd had drawn the guilt and shame from my body with each well-placed blow.

A soft whine escaped my throat, a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of his closeness. My tongue felt thick and clumsy in my mouth, incapable of forming coherent words.

Shepherd's fingers carded through my hair, his touch gentle and grounding. “Do you need something in your mouth, sweetboy?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. “Would that help you feel better?”

I nodded against his chest, a soft whimper escaping my throat. The urge to suckle, to have some part of Shepherd inside me, was overwhelming. I needed that connection, that tangible proof of his care and affection.

Shepherd shifted beneath me, his hands guiding me down his body until my face was level with his crotch. The scent of him was stronger here, muskier, and I nuzzled against the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans, seeking that comforting aroma.

He lifted his hips, shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to free his cock. It sprang up, hard and flushed, the head already glistening with pre-cum. The sight of it made my mouth water, my own cock twitching weakly between my legs.

“Go on, sweet boy,” Shepherd encouraged, his hand cupping the back of my head. “Take what you need.”

I leaned forward, my tongue darting out to lap at the salty-sweet liquid that beaded at the tip of his cock. The taste of him made me moan softly, my eyes fluttering closed. This was exactly what I needed.

I parted my lips, taking the head of Shepherd's cock into my mouth. The weight of him on my tongue was a comforting presence, solid and real. I sucked gently, savoring the velvety softness of his skin, the salty tang of his essence. My eyes drifted closed as I lost myself in the soothing, repetitive motions, my mind quieting as I focused on this one simple task.

Shepherd's fingers combed through my hair, his touch tender and reassuring. “That's it, sweet boy,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I felt more than heard. “You're doing so well, serving me so well.”

I hummed softly around his length, the vibrations drawing a quiet groan from Shepherd's throat. His praise washed over me like a warm breeze, wrapping me in a cocoon of safety andacceptance. Here, with his cock in my mouth and his hands in my hair, I felt cherished, treasured. The guilt and shame that had weighed so heavily on my soul began to dissolve, chased away by the pure, uncomplicated pleasure of serving my Sir.

Time lost all meaning as I drifted in that blissful haze, my world narrowed down to the slide of Shepherd's cock between my lips, the gentle scratch of his nails against my scalp, the rumbling timbre of his voice as he murmured words of praise and encouragement. My jaw began to ache, but Shepherd massaged it, easing the pain so I could keep going.

Shepherd's pleasure was a distant thing, registering only vaguely in my subspace-fogged mind. I felt the twitch and pulse of his cock, the warm flood of his release flooding my mouth, but it was secondary to the soul-deep satisfaction of serving him, of being used for his gratification. I swallowed reflexively, savoring the bitter-salt taste of him on my tongue, proof of my devotion, my submission.

But even as his orgasm faded, I continued to suck, needing the connection, and he let me have it.

I drifted in a hazy, blissful sea of tranquility, only dimly aware of the passage of time. The world beyond Shepherd's strong thighs, the wet heat of my mouth, the weight of his spent cock on my tongue, had all faded away. There was only the primal comfort of suckling, of being filled, used, cherished. I floated in that soft-edged space, my mind quiet for the first time in weeks.

Shepherd's hands were a constant presence, stroking my hair, tracing the curve of my cheek, massaging away the ache in my jaw. His touch was a tether, a lifeline connecting me to the waking world even as I sank deeper into the warm dark.

Time stretched like taffy, minutes bleeding into hours until I had no concept of how long I'd been nestled between Shepherd's strong thighs, my head pillowed on his groin, his softening cock a comforting weight in my mouth. I drifted, floating, onlyvaguely registering the distant murmur of Shepherd's voice, the rumble of it vibrating through his body and into mine.

Gradually, I began to surface. Awareness returned in stages—the ache in my knees from kneeling on the hard floor, the soreness in my jaw, a stiffness in my neck. I lifted my head from Shepherd's groin, my movements sluggish and uncoordinated. His cock slipped from between my lips, leaving behind a hollow feeling, an emptiness that made me whimper softly. I felt drugged, my limbs heavy and my mind pleasantly fuzzy, wrapped in a haze of blissful tranquility.

Shepherd's hands cupped my face, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm, filled with a tender affection that made my chest ache. He brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones, wiping away the tears I hadn't even realized I'd shed.

“There you are, sweet boy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You did so well for me, Eli. I'm so proud of you.”

I leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his palm like a touch starved cat. My whole body felt heavy and languid, my mind blissfully quiet, drifting in a hazy sea of contentment. There was no room for guilt or shame here, only the bone-deep satisfaction of having pleased my Sir, of being exactly where I belonged.

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