Page 25 of Surrender

Really.

“C’mon.” I grab his hand and help him up so I can lift the lid of the toilet. “Piss first. Then…” There’s a whole fucking to do list at this point, and I don’t know where to start. Where would a lifestyle dom start? “Then water while I look you over,” I decide.

Fox pushes the seat down again and sits, pissing like that. He closes his eyes and sways as he does.

“It was a good spanking,” he says before he’s finished pissing. “Poor little Luke had no idea what he was asking for.”

I shake my head. “I’ve scened with him before,” I say, going to wash my hands and the cock cage in the sink. “I didn’t think he spooked that easy. Guess you never really know.” I can’t help but be disgusted by Luke’s reaction, even though I know that’s how a normal person probably reacts to a bleeding human in front of them.

Maybe I should’ve noticed. Maybe I’m a shitty dom for not having noticed.

Maybe I’m a shitty person.

But I’ve never claimed to be someone good.

I got so into it. Fox was taking it beautifully, making amazing sounds and raising his ass for more. There’d just been that high of power and violence, of having him at my complete mercy and knowing he wouldn’t—couldn’t—complain about it.

He could have safe-worded. I stopped when Luke did. I wasn’t that out of control.

And I’d been spanking Fox’s fucking hole, not tearing into his back. Still, I should’ve been paying attention. I should have realized it would be too much for him.

The thoughts are like a ping-pong ball in my brain, telling me on one hand what I did right then countering with what I’d done wrong, and it takes me a moment to realize Fox is talking to me. “What?”

“It really doesn’t hurt that much,” Fox says. “But I don’t think I want to squeeze back into the leather pants.” He reaches down—while still on the toilet—to work at his shoelaces. I can see how the shirt clings to his back where the blood soaked through.

“Stop,” I say, leaving the cage in the sink. I crouch down again, helping him with the laces. “You don’t need to get back into the pants. You’re going to lie down on your front. I’ll get you some boxers.”

“I’d rather not wear fucking anything,” Fox mumbles. “That’s gonna bruise a lot. Too bad you’re being a wuss about all of this.”

“I’m being a responsible dom,” I inform him, helping him take his shoes off. “Up. Let’s get you out of the pants and get this shirt off so I can see the damage.”

He thankfully doesn’t fight me as I pull his clothes off, but as soon as I see his back, I hiss sharply.

He’s opened up the two largest cuts, and several of the smaller ones are bleeding too. The shirt smeared the blood all over. His ass is already beginning to bruise, and I realize I might have hit him harder than I thought.

But he kept begging, saying he wanted more, goading me. If I’d known…

Would I have stopped?

“All right,” I say grimly. Any endorphins I’d felt while spanking him senseless are fading fast, leaving my mood dark. “Let me wipe you down, at least, then I’ll call the doctor. You need to be restitched.”

“Guess so.” Fox cranes his neck so he can see his back in the mirror. “Can’t work like this. The pain’s not bad, but my aim is probably shot.”

“Your aim.” I let out a little laugh. “You’re not going to be going anywhere you need to be aiming any time soon.” I grab a washcloth and wet it, gingerly pressing it around the wounds to wipe away some of the blood.

Fox sits quietly, not even reacting to my touches, and that disturbs me more than if he’d been writhing in pain.

All the little things he’s said tonight, the way he’s acting…

“You know…” I start quietly, “I only do this when both parties are into it. BDSM isn’t a punishment.”

Fox snorts in response. “And that’s why you strapped a shock collar to my cock and fucking shocked me? But, as you saw, I am into it. So I don’t know what the fucking problem is.”

“No, I mean.” Fuck. How do people talk about this shit all the time? “I just meant. I’m not like… your father, or…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Fox says, stepping away from me. He tries to grab the washcloth from my hands but gives up when I don’t let go. “Whatever. Leave me alone.” He starts toward the bathroom door.

I let him get past me, tossing the washcloth into the sink along with everything else, but I grab his arm and start to guide him back to the room I’d kept him in before. He still needs water, and to be patched up, and whether this is sub drop or something else, he needs something from me.

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