Room at the Edge

by Jane Davitt

  Austin was quiet as Liam tied Jay’s ankles together. It left him in an awkward position—it brought his knees closer together than was practical for balance, which meant Liam was doing it on purpose. Liam didn’t make mistakes when they were in a scene. Liam knew exactly what he was doing. He’d lead Jay forward until they reached a point where Jay had no choice but to submit.

  “I know how much you like this,” Liam said. “But I suspect you need a reminder that it’s not about what you like. It’s about what I want. I like to see you like this. Helpless. Austin?”

  “Sir?”

  “How do you think Jay looks like this?”

  Austin’s response was prompt, which was good. It meant he was getting into the scene, into the head space he needed to be in. “Helpless, Sir. Beautiful.”

  Liam’s hand made sudden, sharp contact with Jay’s ass. It was shocking not just because it was hard and hurt, but because there’d been no warning. “You’re right. He does look beautiful.”

  There was a soft sound against silence. Liam was kissing Austin, Jay realized, rewarding him for his answer, maybe, or for kneeling there looking deliciously obedient. Kissing Austin because in that moment, that was what Liam wanted to do, and so he was doing it.

  Jay closed his eyes, deepening the darkness, and tried to picture it. Would Liam’s hands be on Austin’s body or face? Austin wouldn’t be touching Liam; he knew that. Liam liked them kneeling with their hands behind them, nothing obscuring his view. Was Liam’s tongue sliding against Austin’s, coaxing a moan from him, or was it a series of shallow, teasing kisses to leave Austin’s lips sensitized, tingling?

  If Jay had been the one being kissed during a scene, Liam would have used his teeth, nipping at Jay’s lower lip until it stung, opening Jay’s mouth by pulling sharply on a handful of hair if Jay tried to resist. He’d fuck Jay’s mouth with his tongue, steal Jay’s breath, make Jay dizzy with lust and love…

  Jay bit down on his lip, trying to fool himself that it was Liam’s teeth abrading the tender skin. He didn’t feel ignored, but he did wish he could see them. Liam had once made him sit cross-legged at the head of their bed and tied his wrists to the headboard. Then he’d told Austin to lie on his stomach, his head in Jay’s lap, and spanked, then fucked Austin, who’d been forbidden to give Jay’s quiveringly erect cock as much as a lick.

  To distract himself—because, no surprise, he couldn’t come until Liam had—Jay had watched Liam’s face, surreptitiously at first. Then, growing bolder, he’d stared openly.

  Liam had grinned at him, inviting Jay to share his enjoyment, and Jay, for all that he was in agony with every warm exhaled breath from Austin, every accidental brush of Austin’s mouth, had smiled back.

  Watching Liam come had felt like being given a gift. Getting to—finally—slide his cock into Austin’s waiting mouth had been another.

  Now Jay wondered if Austin was fully clothed or naked. He hadn’t been undressed the last time Jay had seen him, but that didn’t mean anything. Was Austin’s cock visible? It had to be standing up hard and eager for attention either way. Jay wished he could touch it, but he was distracted by the feel of something thin and hard being traced along his spine from his shoulders down toward his ass. Had to be the riding crop. He loved the crop, and Liam didn’t use it on him nearly enough as far as he was concerned. The possibility of being hit with it tonight made him part his lips in a silent moan that ended up not being as silent as he’d intended.

  “My little pain slut,” Liam said fondly. He trailed the tip of the crop between Jay’s ass cheeks and teased it over his hole. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Jay tried to turn his face toward Liam, but with his hands and ankles bound he couldn’t move very much.

  “I know usually when I strike you with it, I decide on a count ahead of time.”

  He did. On previous occasions it had been as many as ten blows.

  “But this time I think I’d like to see how far you can take it before you ask me to stop. Twenty? What do you think?”

  Jay gasped and arched his back, begging with his ass thrust out. “Please, Sir.”

  “Austin? Did you have something to say?”

  Jay hadn’t heard anything, so Liam must have seen something on Austin’s face or maybe in the way he was kneeling. Some kind of protest, probably.

  “No, Sir,” Austin whispered.

  “Good.”

  Liam drew the crop over the back of Jay’s left thigh, down to the hollow behind his knee, a slow journey that made Jay struggle to stay still. He wanted to feel the crop strike him, no warm-up spanking, just that stark slash of pain.

  “Tell me, Austin, how many do you think he’ll take before he begs me to stop? How many before he really means it and uses his safe word?”

  “I don’t know, Sir.”

  “You mean you don’t want to think about it.”

  “No, I just—”

  There was the sound of leather striking skin, and Austin cried out. “You’re forbidden to talk unless I ask you a question,” Liam reminded Austin. The sound was repeated, this time followed by a choked-out groan. “And that was for not answering me. Try again, Austin. How many will he take?”

  Jay’s wrists hurt, and it took him a moment to realize why. He was tugging at his bonds, trying to break free and go to Austin. That crop was vicious. Liam had used it on both of them a few months ago, and Austin had screamed out his safe word without hesitation after half a dozen strokes, none of which had been delivered at full strength.

  And under his blazing concern ran a dark swell of envy that Austin’s skin bore two red marks and his was bare.

  “Twenty-four,” Austin said. The tone was okay. He sounded okay. He had to be okay.

  Twenty-four, on the other hand, didn’t seem like nearly enough to Jay. He waited, quivering with need.

  “Really?” Liam was amused; Jay could tell. “All right. However many Jay goes over twenty-four, you get as well.”

  The room was silent as both Jay and Austin absorbed this. Austin didn’t say anything—he was smart; he’d learned his lesson—and neither did Jay, even though he wanted to. He was straining at the ropes around his wrists again, and more important than that, he was angry. Now twenty-four had to be enough, because there was no way he was chancing Austin getting hit with the crop on his behalf. No way.

  “I’m going to be kind and give you the opportunity to modify your guess,” Liam said. “With a penalty, of course. Let’s say…ten strikes? I suspect you’re wishing you’d suggested a higher number originally. Are you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Austin said. Jay wished he could see Austin’s face so that they could at least communicate through their expressions.

  “Jay, do you have anything to contribute?” Liam asked.

  “Austin, don’t change it,” Jay said instantly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t do something you don’t want, okay? I don’t mind. Twenty-four is good. It’s great. I don’t need more than that.”

  It was a lie, a huge lie, and he was pretty sure Austin knew it, but right then he meant it as much as he’d ever meant anything. Ten strokes wouldn’t be too much for Austin if Liam was careful, but Austin had issues with how much pain Jay needed. Watching Jay go to his limit when Austin was this emotionally churned up would leave Austin a wreck.

  For the first time Jay wondered if he could someday have a solo session with Liam, and what it would be like. It felt disloyal to want that and he tried to thrust the thought away, but it clung as persistently as a scrap of plastic wrap. They’d done it once, but that’d been before they’d redefined their relationship, and there had been limits in place.

  The prospect of Liam with Jay’s safe word the only limit to his desires was as tempting and dangerous as slipping on the Ring had been for Frodo and Bilbo.

  “Well, Austin? How many strokes can he take?”

  “He can take forty, Sir,” Austin whispered.

  Jay bit his lip. An extra sixtee
n strokes for him, bought with ten for Austin. Even if he told himself that Austin liked being spanked and a certain amount of pain, he knew he wouldn’t enjoy his whipping, or if he did, he’d feel guilty.

  “You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” The words were no sooner spoken than he regretted them. Fuck. Not again. Liam was going to think he was topping from the bottom or acting out. And he wasn’t. He just craved the simplicity of a hard, ruthless whipping from a man who knew how to make him scream. Pain without guilt.

  “At some point between tonight and the next time I see you, Jay, you can find a dictionary and write out the definition of sadist for me. A hundred times, handwritten, of course, and done neatly, please.”

  He swallowed. That was something Austin would love doing, sinking deeper into sub space with every line, but for Jay it would be tedious in the extreme. “Yes, Sir.”

  The crop came back to tease him, the stiff length of it sawing between his legs, chafing his balls. “I’d be surprised if you make it to forty,” Liam said into Jay’s ear, the soft puff of his breath in stark contrast to the iciness of his words. “I’ve always held back using this, even on you, but tonight you’ll get to find out just how hard I can hit.”

  “Please…oh God, Sir, please.” He was begging before they’d started, shame at his rebuke pushing him into a place where he wanted to abase himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Gag me. Don’t let me say anything else—”

  “But I want to hear you scream, Jay.” The tip of the crop smacked against Jay’s balls, a tap, no more than that, but he cried out, acutely aware of how much damage a much harder strike could’ve caused.

  “It’s a start,” Liam said.

  The first real smack of the crop against Jay’s ass was swift, and the only way he knew it was coming was because of the sound it made slicing through the air. It was a hard blow—not the hardest Liam had ever given him, but hard enough that it was a shock.

  “That’s only one.” Liam slapped him with the flat of his hand across the same spot the crop had struck, then rubbed his ass roughly. “Thirty-nine to go, Jay. I have to admit I’m curious to find out if you can take it.”

  Jay swallowed and waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long, and the next half dozen strokes came quickly, without more than a few seconds’ pause between them. He knew Liam would expect him to keep track of the number, so he did. The pain was sharp and long-lasting, the effect from one blow not fading before the next struck home. It felt like being cut with a knife. Although he knew from previous experience that it wouldn’t look as bad as it felt, he also knew that it was going to hurt for days. Sitting would be a challenge. Every time he did, he’d remember this moment, that Liam had hurt him because he wanted it.

  “Seven,” he gasped when Liam stopped and rubbed his ass again. His skin felt raw already, and there were still thirty-three to go.

  Liam said, “Austin,” and a moment later Liam’s hand was back on Jay’s ass, this time pushing two slick fingers inside him. It was unexpected enough that Jay gasped, but that didn’t stop him from pushing back to take Liam’s fingers deeper. “Greedy boy.”

  “Yes, Sir. Please.”

  “I’ll give you what I want to when I want to,” Liam said, adding a third finger that stretched Jay wide.

  His thighs trembled, and he was glad for the support of the chair underneath him. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered. “I’m yours.”

  “You are. Both of you.” Liam’s fingers twisted inside him, driving deeper. “I’m a lucky man. You think I’m hard on you and I am, but I don’t do anything to you that you don’t allow, and I try to make it what you need.” He crooked his middle finger, and Jay moaned, shameless, appreciative, enjoying the stab of arousal piercing him. “It’s never occurred to you that I’m yours just as much, I suppose? No?”

  “We want you to be,” Jay said, honest in the depth of his need. It was what Austin would’ve said if he’d been allowed to talk, but it was true for Jay as well. “We’re stronger together—” His final word ended with another moan as Liam worked his fingers in and out. The stretch felt amazing, but Jay was greedy when it came to Liam. “Sir, need more. Please.”

  “I’ll fist you soon,” Liam said casually. “Not tonight.” He pulled his fingers out slowly so that Jay felt the loss of each inch as his body tried to clamp down and keep them inside him. “When I do that, I like to take my time. The prep work is part of the experience. I enjoy it.”

  The implication that Liam had done it before, to someone else, had Jay hissing out an outraged breath. Behind him, he heard Austin stir and murmur a similar protest.

  Liam chuckled and patted Jay’s ass with his dry hand. He’d use a wipe on his other hand before letting it touch their skin, Jay knew. Liam wasn’t fastidious exactly, but he tidied up as he went along. “Oh no. You don’t get to be jealous. Not when I’ve just told you how much you both mean to me. I’ve never fallen in love with a sub before, never wanted to, but you two didn’t give me any choice.”

  Jay couldn’t remember Liam telling them so easily that he loved them before. He held on to that as the crop struck him again, Liam dealing out ten hard strokes in quick succession.

  In the videos he’d watched online, he’d seen lines of fuel igniting on skin, a blue flame flickering to life in a flash. The crop was leaving fire buried under his skin, dark lines of red, a hot, searing burn, but much though he loved the bruising heat, he still wanted to feel those transient blue flames dance over his skin.

  “Another break, I think.”

  Jay shook his head, but his chest was heaving as he fought for breath, and he knew Liam wasn’t being kind. The pause let Jay feel the pain in a way he couldn’t when it was continually changing. It grew and spread, wild and savage, ripping at his self-control and leaving it in shreds.

  “Touch him, Austin. Feel how hot his skin is. Run your fingers over the welts.”

  Austin’s hand touched him a moment later, gentle and so cool that Jay pushed back against it to soothe the burn. He could almost pretend that it was a real burn blistering his skin. Austin’s fingertips moved away, then back again. He was probably afraid of hurting Jay. No need; his careful touch didn’t increase the pain even slightly.

  “You know how much he likes this, don’t you?” Liam said. “You’ve seen him beg for it often enough.”

  One of Austin’s fingertips traced over a slash mark. “Yes, Sir,” Austin said.

  Liam smacked the bottom of Jay’s right foot with the crop, and Jay twitched, couldn’t help it, even though the blow hadn’t been hard enough to hurt. “How many is that, Jay?”

  “Seventeen, Sir.”

  “Not even halfway,” Liam mused.

  “I can take it, Sir.”

  “Really?”

  The crop struck the back of his thigh, claiming another part of his body. Liam left five strokes on each thigh, the final one on each leg high up, along the crease where thigh met ass.

  Jay was sobbing now, the tears soaking his blindfold. He held still for each stroke because Liam told him to, but after a stroke had landed, he had to move, as if shaking his ass would dislodge the building pain. He’d never understood how he could crave the pain, love it, and yet still fight it like this.

  “Stop fighting it. Stop fighting me,” Liam said, lifting Jay’s long hair away from his neck for a moment, allowing him to feel a breath of cooler air on his hot skin. “I’m not punishing you, Jay. I’m whipping you. There’s a difference.”

  Jay knew that. Liam had taught him that lesson early on.

  “He’s doing well, though, isn’t he, Austin?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The pride in Austin’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Thirteen more. Where should I put the next three, Austin? The last ten are going on his arse, but that leaves three to play with.”

  Jay could practically hear Austin’s brain working. He knew exactly how torn Austin would be over something like this—wanting to give Jay what he wanted,
but at the same time not wanting to be the cause of hurt even when it was a hurt Jay craved. It was a double-edged sword Jay wished Austin didn’t have to grasp, but Austin answered without taking too much time. Maybe he was in the right head space to do as Liam asked without questioning it too much.

  “His calves, Sir,” Austin said.

  Liam didn’t hesitate—he hit Jay the specified three times with enough force that Jay shrieked, screaming out his anguish, then paused as Jay fought to get himself back under control.

  It felt like everything from his waist down was on fire, and his cock was so hard he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to come again. He let his head sink down until his nose and mouth were resting on the solid wooden surface of the chair. He was drooling—or shedding so many tears that even his lips were wet.

  “You can ask me to stop,” Liam said, running his hand over Jay’s ass as if he needed to touch the skin he was marking. “You don’t need to go to forty if this is enough.”

  The part of Jay that could still be objective and provide a running commentary—the voice he wanted to silence with the pain because until he did, he couldn’t leave everything behind and just be—was reporting in on every throb, every rising bruise in an excited, horrified babble.

  “Forty was Austin’s guess,” Jay told Liam, his voice thick and hoarse. “He’s never done this to me. You have. As many as it takes. Please, Sir. You’ll know when I’m there.”

  As he said it, he remembered that any extra strokes would be added to Austin’s total, but it was too late to retract. The crop came down after his final word, as if Liam was as eager to continue as Jay. If Liam had been holding back before, he wasn’t now. The agony was too much for Jay’s body to contain. It pushed at him from the inside, reshaping him until his flesh felt paper-thin, ready to rip and tear with the next slashing stroke.

  He stopped counting, and between one hard-won breath and the next, he let go of everything holding him anchored—his worry over Austin’s emotional state, his doubts about moving in with Liam, a score of petty work-related issues. The pain filled him too completely for there to be any room for them, and after that, each stroke sent him higher, sent him soaring.