Bryson chuckled, voice low and cruel. “Your pitiful little sounds aren’t going to save you.”
Then, another onslaught.
Another thirty seconds of blistering, punishing smacks, his palm coming down hard and unrelenting.
Seth sobbed.
His body shook.
His ass was scorched. Inside and out.
Bryson kept his foot firm on the bar, ensuring there was no escape.
Pressing Seth’s head deep into the mattress, Bryson restricted his airflow. Holding him there. Seth’s small frame tensed, his body shuddering beneath him.
Bryson waited.
Savoring the moment.
The silence.
Then, his voice came, slow and dangerous.
“The next thing I hear from you—” A slight increase in pressure. “Better be how sorry you are for keeping your thoughts from me.”
Bryson held him there a moment longer, letting the message sink in.
Seth’s muffled, desperate breath scraped against the sheets.
Grabbing him by his hair, Bryson pulled him up. Seth gasped. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
Bryson pushed his face back into the mattress, watching his arms flex behind his back. He was completely helpless. After his night with Adria, Brysondidn’t think he would ever be aroused again, but feeling Seth beneath him, he realized how ridiculous that thought was.
When he released him again, Seth sputtered, “I’m sorry, Bry—Sir. It burns so much, please.”
Bryson gave him another hard smack across the ass and grabbed a hold of Seth’s bound arms. “Get up.”
Pulling on him, Seth hinged from the bed and was left kneeling. His face red and blotchy. Bryson sat on the bed in front of him.
“You better clench those ass muscles, because if that ginger falls out, I’ll start over with something far worse.”
The fear that crossed Seth’s face shot blood right to Bryson’s dick.
“You’re sorry?”
Seth nodded
Bryson unbuttoned his pants. “Show me.”
Seth dove into him, knocking him back. Hot, wet lips engulfing him, and Bryson nearly came at Seth’s eagerness. Seth sucked Bryson deep within his throat, his face still wet with tears, his red ass clenching, trying desperately to keep the ginger in there. The spanking bench was positioned just over his shoulder.
The bench that, a few hours ago, Bryson had been strapped to. The pain from the belt still radiating into him.
Bryson closed his eyes. His hands gripping the surrounding blanket. He was going to come just thinking about it.
The witch might have been right, maybe he did like pain. But there was no denying that he liked this, too.
Loved it.
