by Kora Knight
Tad stilled. “… Really?”
Scott nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He motioned to the glass wall. “And others pay to watch.”
Tad tried not to cringe. “So that’s what that’s for. Rapt audiences.”
A broad-shouldered shrug. “Among other things.” Before Tad could ask, Scott pointed again to his whipping post. “Now unless you want to bail—and if you do, get to it and stop wasting my time—strip down and face that beaut.”
Tad could feel his jaw ticking, even as his cheeks reheated. “Fine,” he snarled, stomping over to the thing. With his back to Scott, he shucked off everything but his boxers, then glared at the obstacle looming in front of him. Half a foot thick, the monster headboard was comprised of six horizontal panels upholstered in taut, black leather. Roughly two feet high and six feet wide each, they collectively made up eight feet of unadulterated anxiety. “What the hell is this thing, anyway?”
“My roommate and I have lovingly coined it: the Wall of Confliction.”
Tad quirked a brow. “You seriously call it that?”
Scott’s tone turned wry. “We most certainly do.”
“Why the fuck for?”
“Mm. That’d spoil the surprise.”
“Whatever,” Tad scowled, still not facing the guy. But the sound of feet padding closer had his blood pressure climbing fast. Not that his heart wasn’t already pounding.
“Boxers, too, Tad,” Scott murmured in his ear. “I’m to give you the full-body treatment.”
Tad groaned. Even his ass was going to get whipped? Those rat bastard pricks. Cursing under his breath, he ditched the last of his clothes. “There. Happy?”
A low, dark chuckle. “Oh, shy boy, you have no idea.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Stop playing the part.”
Tad bristled, but then stiffened as Scott took his wrist and lifted it up… to a buckle restraint attached to a resin-coated chain. It must’ve been tucked up in the wall’s upper right corner. Swiftly, Scott secured it into place.
Tad struggled not to freak out. “Is this really necessary? I agreed not to leave.”
“It’s necessary,” Scott assured, doing the same with his other arm. He dropped into a squat to hit Tad’s ankles next, firmly easing them apart.
“For shit’s sake,” Tad groused. “My fucking feet, too?”
“Mmhmm.”
Tad glowered, even as his heart rate rose to jackhammer status.
Ankles secured, Scott made a satisfied sound. Like a deep purr of pure male appreciation. Tad stilled, not sure how he felt about that… or the big palms now moving up the back of his legs. Slowly, they kneaded his muscles as they climbed. If Tad wasn’t so freaked out from being butt-naked and bound, he might actually have enjoyed it. It felt good, like a really great massage.
Scott’s hands roamed higher, rubbing firmly at his hamstrings. Way too close to Tad’s ass. Tad squirmed with a grunt. “Dude. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t flogging.”
“Not wrong.”
“Well, then…seriously. Stop.”
“Shy boy.”
Tad bristled, tugging at his restraints. “Your reverse psychology isn’t going to work.”
Scott didn’t seem inclined to give a response. His insistent fingers rose higher, thumbs grazing back and forth along the bottom curve of Tad’s ass. Tad sucked in a breath, goose bumps peppering his flesh. Shit, that felt nice, in a very wrong way. Before he could formulate a second rebuke, those fingers skimmed over his butt cheeks to work on his lower back.
“So tense,” Scott mused.
His thumbs pressed in firm circles, hitting all the right deep tissue nerves. Tad bit back a moan. And then those thumbs were sliding higher, gliding with perfect pressure along the muscles flanking his spine. But when they paused to focus on that sensitive spot between Tad’s shoulder blades, Tad’s knees nearly gave out beneath him. The man just found one of his most sensitive erogenous zones. His cock began to swell, not caring about anything but the pleasure. Okay, shit was starting to get kinky. And still Scott kept on going with his magic.
“Fuck,” Tad groaned, shifting anxiously against the leather. “You’re really good at that.”
“Part of my job,” Scott murmured. “Quite a few of my clients are avid athletes and often require physical therapy.”
Well, that certainly explained his insanely skilled hands. But not why he was using them right now, like this, on Tad. “I’m not one of your clients.” He flat-out went jelly when Scott moved to his shoulders. “And I’m not injured… or at least not yet. So, why the special treatment?”
Scott chuckled and leaned in, his breath brushing Tad’s ear. “In a roundabout way, you kind of are my client. But even besides that, I always like to give a little extra. Consider it on the house.”
“Don’t need your charity,” Tad muttered, reeling from Scott’s close proximity. He tugged on his restraints to stress his point.
Scott hmm’ed and kept on going. “Don’t need it, no. But you like it just fine.”
Tad opened his mouth to deny it, but lost his train of thought when ten fingers slid into his hair. Blunt nails grazed his sensitive scalp. His eyes rolled back, a second moan escaping as more goose bumps roared to life. Fuck. Scott just discovered Erog-Zone number two. Cock growing harder, Tad panicked. This could not be happening. They needed to get to the painful shit so his dick would chill the fuck out. And, hell, how backward was that?
Scott’s hands slipped from his hair to smooth a path down to his waist. Tad breathed a sigh of relief… until said hands anchored onto his sides. Hot fingers curled around his hip bones, pressing into the dips around front. It tickled, but so close to his groin, it also…
Tad hissed from the dual, heady stimulation, then tried to squirm away. That son of a bitch just located all three of his sweet spots. And his three-for-three track record said Scott knew exactly what he was doing.
But whether that was the case or not, the reality was his fingers were quickly making Tad crazy. Stressing and unsettling him. But not just that… if his dick’s growing status was any indication. Fuck. Scott was so going to get the wrong idea. And with Tad bound and defenseless, that really wasn’t good. He needed a distraction, before his “little problem turned big” made itself known.
He cleared his throat. “So how come you’re friends with those assholes anyway?”
“They’re not really friends,” Scott replied, still working Tad’s hips. “Like I said, I train a lot of jocks.”
“Then how’d you all strike up your little deal?”
Scott chuckled. “Tonight’s arrangement was purely happenstance, but overall mutually beneficial.”
Tad wanted to frown, but moaned instead. God, the man’s fingers were fucking incredible. So much so that Tad’s cock started to twitch. He shifted underneath Scott’s palms. “Beneficial how?”
“They know I’m in the market for a few new models, fresh faces for my side business. They said you fit the bill and might ultimately be interested.”
Tad stiffened, focusing on the… “Side business?” he frowned. And why the fuck would he be interested? Those guys were nut jobs on top of everything else.
“I make instructional videos. For weight training and… stuff.”
“And stuff?” Tad rasped, growing increasingly wary.
“Relax,” Scott chuckled. “No one’s gonna put a gun to your head.” His fingers massaged down those curves in Tad’s hips; moving in firm little circles, driving Tad insane.
He undulated, then jerked when Scott dipped lower, getting way too close to his groin. “Stop!” he barked, now completely erect. “I… I’m really fucking ticklish!” In truth, he’d needed to stop Scott before he slid a few inches over. The guy didn’t need to know he was sporting some major wood.
Scott stilled, his hot breath tantalizing Tad’s nape. Tad shivered despite himself. But then all contact abruptly ceased… until a hard palm came down on
his ass. Tad jumped with a start.
“Shy and ungrateful,” Scott mused, mirth lacing his tone.
Tad scowled. “That shit was beyond inappropriate.”
Scott laughed. “Hey, I was just trying to help you relax. And just so you know, a lot of what I’ll be doing tonight you’ll consider inappropriate.”
Ice doused Tad’s veins. But since he was facing away from the door, only the retreating soft slap of feet told him he’d been left alone. He exhaled with a groan. Maybe he could get his cock to stand down. Unfortunately, Scott was back in a snap, bringing along with him the scent of more leather.
Tad stilled.
Flogging time.
The music bumped up a bit louder, but he still could hear Scott speak. “For times such as these...”
Tad wanted to snap back with some snarky retort, but truth be told, he actually loved this band, too. Saliva. Rough, raw and aggressive. He could see how it might inspire someone who’d just picked up a whip.
His hips rolled absently into the warm, taut leather. Geez, even with a beating on the horizon, his dick was still ridiculously hard. And apparently bugging for friction. Again, his pelvis did another grind.
A soft growl emanated behind him. “Damn, shy boy. You’re one hell of a sight.” A soft whap resounded. Flogger tassels hitting the guy’s palm?
Tad stiffened—from the sound and Scott’s remark. Not to mention his gaze, which was downright palpable. Tad could feel him staring, the dude was obviously gay. Hell, by the way he’d just had his hands on Tad, he had to at least be bi. No hetero man would ever touch another guy like that. Still, Tad’s dick just kept on throbbing. Guess it didn’t care what sex-preference Scott had. But did Tad?
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the padding. He wasn’t a homophobe and never had been. In truth, he never understood all the anti-gay, brimstone hoopla. But he wasn’t gay himself. And he’d never been in a situation like this; helplessly bound by a guy into guys. He shifted awkwardly, inadvertently rubbing his cock yet again. He shuddered, absently repeating it.
Another soft rumble at his back. Tad froze. Did Scott just see his little grind? Figure out that he’s sporting a boner? Oh, God. Tad had never been so humiliated. Cheeks flaming, he blurted out, “You gonna stand there all fucking night or are we gonna get this over with?”
“Suddenly so impatient,” Scott chuckled. “Nice. But just so you know; this ain’t gonna be “over with” any time soon.”
A spray of leather whistled through the air, hitting its mark on Tad’s back. He gasped, arching in surprise. Another of Scott’s soft, husky laughs. And then another firm whap of his whip. Instinctively, Tad went rigid and clenched his teeth.
“Ten sets of ten reps,” Scott stated. “Don’t forget to breathe.” Promptly, he implemented a smooth and steady rhythm. Like his arm was moving in a sideways crazy eight. But considering the size of said arm, and its contradicting mild delivery, Scott obviously was going easy. Because, seriously, it barely stung.
In no time, Scott finished the first set of ten, paused, then started again.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
Tad inhaled slowly. This wasn’t too bad. He’d get through it, no problem.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
Each hit was landing perfectly in time with the music.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
Again. And again. And again.
Tad winced. Tiny wisps of dread were beginning to form in his gut—because his back was really starting to sting. By the time the remaining sets concluded, his shoulders were all but screaming. He exhaled on a shuddering gust.
“Good,” Scott muttered. “Let’s go it again.”
Tad groaned, gripping those damn chains holding him in place. He really didn’t think his back could take more. It was burning like a son of a bitch.
At least he wasn’t thinking about his boner anymore.
Thankfully, Scott resumed on his thighs.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
Before long his hamstrings were on fire like his back. Tad could only imagine how red he was getting. He grimaced into the leather, feet and toes shuffling restlessly.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
By the eighth set, his skin felt like glowing coals. He panted from the pain, a light sheen of sweat covered his body.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
Fuck, shit, fuck, it stung like a mother!
When the tenth set ended, Scott sauntered over. “You doing okay?” he murmured from somewhere close by. Tad shuddered and gave a tight nod.
“Good boy,” Scott praised, giving Tad’s ass a curt, double pat. As he strode away, Tad had the feeling that Scott’s little “pat” was, more or less, him referencing his next point of action. Like a billiard player “calling” his pocket.
Sure enough, whap went the flogger across Tad’s bare cheeks.
“Ah!” he yelped, then cursed himself for not bracing sooner. Like both bouts before, the first twenty lashes weren’t too unbearably bad. But by the end of set six, Tad was trembling something fierce.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
Set seven and his butt cheeks were howling like a bitch. Tad twisted and squirmed, as if subconsciously trying to flee his own skin.
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
At set ten’s conclusion he was out-and-out writhing. Again, Scott returned to briefly check in.
“Still cool, my man?”
Tad grimaced. “I’m standing, aren’t I?”
“Alright. Gonna start over now on your back.”
Tad heart dropped to his feet. “Wait, what? We’re starting over?”
“Mmhmm,” Scott purred. “Don’t wanna stop now. We’re almost to the good part.”
“Good part?” Tad snarled. “Are you out of your mind?”
Scott chuckled. “No. But you’re about to be. Deep breaths, beautiful.”
Tad bristled. Beautiful? That motherfucker did not just call him—
Crack went Scott’s flogger across his raw shoulders. Tad howled out a curse. Considering how bad his back was still searing, there was no way he could handle more. “Dude,” he panted, tugging on his binds. “Seriously. I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“Yes, Tad, you can. And you’re about to start loving it.”
Two, three, four, five… seven, eight, nine, ten.
“You’re crazy,” Tad rasped. “This is fucking torture.”
“Mmm… Gonna start to hurt so good.”
One, two, three, four…seven, eight, nine, ten.
Tad arched against the headboard. “Good in what sense?” he barked. “‘Cause it sure as shit ain’t feeling good to me.”
“Be patient. Geez, you’re such a Sally.”
Tad wanted to punch him right in the face. “Fuck you.”
Deep chuckle. “Is that an invite?”
One, two, three, four… seven, eight, nine, ten.
Oh, God. The burn was starting to spread through his body, the overwhelming sting morphing into … something else, but equally intense. To Tad’s surprise, from there on out, every subsequent lash brought with it a tantalizing fire. Inexplicably enticing, the strange heat coiled and writhed beneath his flesh. Hot surging currents of undulating sensation.
Before Tad knew it, Scott had finished with his back and moved to his thighs. “You’ve started to feel it,” he observed.
Tad moaned, writhing mindlessly. Because in truth, that’s exactly how he was starting to feel: mindless. Lost beneath the intoxicating waves raging along his body.
One, two, three, four…
Tad shuddered. The tassels slapping his hamstrings might as well have been hot tongues, flicking and licking their way to his groin. What was happening to him? His hips started to rock. Breath sawed from his lungs, his fingers clenching and releasing.
And dammit, now his dick was harder than ever.
“Your ass ready to take another round?”
“Fuuuuuck,” Tad groaned.
Scott laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re liking it now.”
Tad didn’t bother arguing. ‘Cause the fact of the matter was, he kind of, sort of… was. Which made absolutely no sense. He was getting flogged, for fuck’s sake.
The first lash landed with a nice, biting crack.
“Ah!” Tad shouted. The contact felt way too close to his cock. Every splash of leather sent hot licks to all the right places. It was like the nerve ending on his ass cheeks were connected to his crotch. In no time his steely dick was pulsating with pleasure.
One, two, three, four…
Toes curling, he ground his hips into the padded wall. He didn’t care if Scott saw, didn’t care what he thought. Suddenly all he needed was friction. And those lashes were only spurring him on. Tormenting him into oblivion. And those fiery tendrils weren’t just igniting his cock and balls. They were climbing up to lick his abs and tease his sensitized nipples. Hell, they were even wreaking havoc on all his e-zones. Scalp prickling, he was skirting the edge of a meltdown.
One, two, three, four…
“Scott, oh my God,” he croaked. Too much sensation. All he knew was his body’s pleasure. Like an addict, he just wanted more. Needed more. No, wait. He needed it to stop. His hunger to continue didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t take it. And still he wanted to. Even though his body was barely handling it. It was out-and-out overwhelming torturous bliss.
…seven, eight, nine, ten.
Tad ripped out a howl at an exceptionally powerful blow. His dick was all but raging for release. His fingers fisted chain and leather. Toes curled knuckle-white tight.
The flogging abruptly stopped.
Then the music came to a halt.
Tad struggled for breath. All he could hear was his pounding heart.
“Tad,” came Scott’s rough timbre. “How you doing, bud?”
He groaned, even as, for the umpteenth time, his hips rocked into the wall.
A husky chuckle skimmed his ear. “You want more?”
“Unnnggh.”