Page 46 of Seth
When Ignaz straightened up, Seth forced his attention away from his legs and drifted closer. “Safeword?”
Confusion clouded Ignaz’s gaze for a split second before he asked, “Can’t I just ask you to stop?”
Seth froze, wondering how long the boy had watched him. It both relieved and concerned him. Seth always found it easier to accept a safeword than explain why he preferred not to use it. For him, a safeword created an illusion of a play where “no” and “stop” could mean “more” and “please”. They switched realities turning everything into a game with a pause button. Seth didn’t like games. They confused him. He didn’t like hearing “no” when it could mean “yes”. To him, “no” would always mean “stop”.
He rarely bothered to explain his preferences to one-time partners, so Ignaz’s question startled him. Seth’s chin moved down then up.
“Then I don’t need a safeword.” Once again, Seth stared into the dead sea of Ignaz’s blue eyes. The desert from his dreams held more life than Ignaz’s soul.
I should walk away. Only in math, did a negative multiplied by a negative equal a positive. In real life, it never had. Seth knew it, yet he couldn’t move. The open look, the expressed trust, the attention to details, the willingness to give up the control—everything in Ignaz attracted, entranced.
“Would you mind tying me?” Ignaz folded his arms in front of his chest and bent over the horse. His honey-blond hair, catching the light in every whorl, contrasted with black leather.
So pretty.Seth wanted to run his fingers through his hair, to feel the texture.
Worry crossed Ignaz’s beautiful face. “You don’t want to? I can—”
Seth shook his head and squeezed the cane between his arm and flank. The belts were softer than he expected when he carefully fastened them one by one. His fingers slowed as he moved down the waist, thinking that the straitjacket made Ignaz look pure, innocent, hence attractive.
After buckling up the last belt, Seth stepped away.
Ignaz fidgeted and cast a glance over his shoulder. “I forgot … my shorts. Would you mind? Please?”
Just one scene, nothing more.Keeping his face void of emotion, Seth lowered on a knee and rested the cane on his thigh as he waited for Ignaz to turn around. He unfastened the tiny shorts that barely peeked from under the straitjacket. The backs of his fingers brushed against the smooth, soft skin of Ignaz’s thighs when he pulled the shorts down along with the white stripe of his cotton trunks. Avoiding looking at the intimate area, Seth helped Ignaz step out of his garments, then straightened up, and put them on the stool behind the bench.
Ignaz’s legs trembled as he splayed his upper body over the bench and positioned his knees on the cushions at either side of it. Seth scrutinized the silvery scars crisscrossing the round globes of his ass. Some looked like they hadn’t only broken skin but also damaged muscles beneath. Seth wondered if Ignaz had wanted that damage, and if he expected the same kind of pain from him.
Seth stepped to his side; the end of the cane pressed across Ignaz’s buttocks. He waited, then waited some more. At the moment, Seth needed boundaries more than Ignaz did, as the darkness condensed in his chest.
What came instead washed him in endorphins and regret. “Don’t hold back. I’ll say when you can stop.”
I should have walked away.Seth closed his eyes and raised the cane in the air. Electricity sparked under his skin. He sensed Ignaz’s need and readiness, his thirst for pain, for blood. It resonated with his own. The desert of his soul hushed in anticipation. It waited for the first drop of blood to fall, to quench its thirst. The hairs on his arms bristled, and he had to fight back the impulse to strike. He licked his lips, his wrist flicking the cane around. He hadn’t experienced such a powerful urge in months, and now he wasn’t sure where it came from. The urgency in the air was almost palpable. Seth’s cheek flinched as he flicked the cane again, dissecting his emotion.
“Please…” Ignaz begged again, and the realization hit Seth. This craving wasn’t his but Ignaz’s. His focus shifted, settled on the feverish gaze. “Please…”
The plea worked like a command. Seth pressed the tip of the cane to the round globe, then drew back and struck. The cane zapped through the air and connected with the pale flesh. Ignaz yelped; his whole body tensed as he squirmed, trying to process the pain. When the second wave of sensation hit, he arched his back.
Seth waited, watching the imprint whiten, swell, then gradually turn red.
“More. Please,” Ignaz begged, but demanding notes rang in his voice.
Seth drew back and struck again, this time a little lower and stronger.
“Harder!” The demand mixed with a cry of pain.
Seth let go. The next strike broke Ignaz’s skin; the wound glistened, filling with blood. Light brows drew together as the blue eyes misted over. It felt as if Ignaz distanced himself from this reality and dove into another, one where Seth couldn’t follow. It didn’t look like subspace, but like escape where Seth was a mere tool to achieve the result. Seth instantly hated it, but it didn’t cool his need.
“More.”
He hit again, then again, watching the reddened ass glimmer with blood; the corners of his vision reddened.
Stop me,he thought, watching the boy bite his lips. Ignaz cried, and shimmering trails covered his reddened cheeks.Ask me to stop. Now.
“More.” A whimper, not a demand. “Harder.”
Seth struck again, the cane landing over a fresh wound, then he circled the bench. Ignaz’s shoulders shuddered, eyelashes clumped, nose ran, and a hiccupping sound filled the room. Anguish. Pain. Deep sitting torment. Seth read Ignaz’s emotions, looking for signs of pleasure, but only saw misery. It wasn’t a releasing cry after good canning. It was something entirely else, something Seth couldn’t comprehend.
“Enough,” he said and lowered the cane to a stool, then picked up the bottle of antiseptic and a clean towel before sinking on his knees behind Ignaz. Red streaks ran over the white terry-cloth towel as he carefully pressed the fabric to the welts. After treating the cuts, Seth got up.
