Page 12 of Their Master

And maintain eye contact rather than stir Luke’s wrath.

Only gradually did he become aware of some discomfort. After a while, each lash felt less like a heated caress and more like a friction burn. And then it began to sting.

One bee, at first, and then dozens, hundreds.

Soon, it felt as if skin was being torn away in strips, leaving only raw, bleeding nerves behind.

Smith shivered and tossed his head; the only movement allowed him. His bound cock and balls throbbed with each beat of his heart and proof of his desire ran down his shaft

And still Luke went on, his biceps bulging with each lash.

“I’ll wager you’re feeling a bit of discomfort right about now,” Luke taunted in a steady voice, his arm falling harder and faster, the knotted leather like nettles digging into his skin.

Slowly, the lash began to drift higher. Luke had mainly been whipping Smith’s abdomen, seemingly fixated on the ridged musculature just above his groin.

Only occasionally had the whip hit his nipples, but now he angled his blows so that the knotted leather tips flicked the small, puckered discs of flesh over and over and over.

If Smith hadn’t been begging before, he would have been pleading now—which is why he always had Luke gag him—and his throat was soon raw from his muted shouts.

Luke was an expert with a flogger but being whipped on the front of one’s body was an entirely different—and tenser—experience than being whipped on one’s back and arse.

Especially when one’s cock was erect and bobbing.

Luke knew how to keep the flails just close enough to his prick without striking his organ, but everyone made mistakes, no matter how skilled, and the fear that Luke might misjudge one of his strokes was never far from his mind, which only served to heighten the torment.

“You were a right bastard to keep me from coming earlier,” Luke said as he slid his free hand down to the wet spot on his black wool trousers. With a few deft flicks he opened the buttons and brought out his erect cock.

Luke was uncircumcised and a dark pink sheath protected the sensitive crown. He began to stroke himself, not pausing his flogging, his actions exposing mouth-watering glimpses of the slick mushroom head.

The other man was big and thick and he knew from experience that Luke’s prick would feel like a ship’s mast when he buried it in Smith’s tight hole.

“I’m so close,” Luke warned in a raspy voice, bringing his whip arm downhard.

Smith’s eyelids fluttered shut, the front of his body on fire.

“Eyes on me!” A single flail struck the head of his cock.

Smith’s eyes flew open as he screamed and his knees buckled, his shoulders burning as if his arms were being pulled from their sockets. Even through his tears Smith saw Luke’s massive upper body straining and bulging with the effort of his savage flogging. His vision wavered and his head dipped.

Luke laughed at his surrender, threw the whip to the floor, and was behind Smith in a heartbeat. He heard the clink of a glass bottle of oil right before a thick finger pushed at his hole.

“So bloody tight,” Luke snarled, sliding an arm around Smith’s chest to hold him steady while he fingered him.

Smith forced himself to relax and open himself for Luke’s use.

Luke gave a grunt of approval. “You’re such a good hole.”

He shivered at the vulgar, demeaning praise, shame washing over him when his sphincter puckered with anticipation.

Luke gave a cruel bark of laughter. “You like that, don’t you—being myhole?”

Smith wouldn’t have disagreed with him even if he could.

“You’re fortunate that I’m in a kind mood,” Luke said. “I’ve half a mind to fuck you dry.”

Smith shuddered at the brutal threat. As big as Luke was, it was going to hurt even well-stretched and oiled.

Luke poured on more oil and fingered him with slow, deep thrusts.

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