Page 68 of New Year

“That’s a silly question.” Austin returned to his backpack, slipped the closed knife into his back pocket—Nat couldn’t see the gun on him anywhere—and then bent at the waist. Retrieved the leather flogger with sixteen braided tails.

Nat’s skin itched with old hurts, and he lurched away. The branch holding the leash snapped, but the sudden freedom left Nat off balance. And with his hands bound, he couldn’t get to his feet before Austin’s foot slammed into his stomach. The force sent Nat spinning, and he landed on his back, gut spasming. He hadn’t quite lost his breath but was close, and he didn’t see the second blow coming. Stunning pain lit his ribs on fire, and he rolled away from that booted foot. Off the blanket and into dirt and brush.

The collar snapped against his windpipe. Nat grabbed at the stiff leather as best he could, while he was being dragged backward by the leash. He kicked with his heels but had no target, no purchase, no way to stop this. The hiss of the flogger matched the slices of pain across his bare chest. Nat released the collar to protect his torso, but the flogger didn’t relent. It lashed at his arms, shoulders, stomach, ribs, even as high as his neck. When the tails lashed his cheek, Nat gave up on his body and protected his face, grunting and yelping, but refusing to scream. Refusing to give Austin that satisfaction for as long as possible.

The beating stopped, leaving Nat silently sobbing, his body blazing, so disoriented he could only hold position. Wait for the next part of Austin’s sadistic revenge plan.

“I was hoping you’d cooperate a bit more, so I could take the collar off,” Austin said, his tone darker now. And farther away. “Have a little fun without restraints. But that’s okay. I anticipated.”

Something thudded several times in a row, close by, like a rubber mallet striking its mark. Nat didn’t understand until Austin yanked on the leash, and Nat rolled with it so he didn’t choke. He snapped his head around and moaned in frustration. Austin attached his end of the leash to a stake in the ground.

“Fuck,” Nat said.

“Not yet, darling, we’ve got time, and I brought more toys. Now get back up on your knees.”

He wanted to sayfuck youand make Austin get him up, but he had to reserve his energy. Couldn’t get too hurt this quickly, and keeping Austin happy should work in his favor. At least, in terms of how powerful his blows continued to be. That wasn’t the hardest he’d ever been hit with the flogger.

Nat crawled closer to the stake so he had more slack. The head of the stake was close to the ground. If he was lucky, that meant it wasn’t a long one and could be pulled out; the banging before also meant it wasn’t screwed into the earth like those dog leash stakes.

Nat got his legs under him, ignored his aching torso, and carefully levered first to his hands and knees. He didn’t like that position, though, and he sat back on his haunches, already out of breath from the heat and pain. His hands were bound in front of him, instead of behind. It felt like an oversight, because it gave him an advantage with balance. And with clasping both hands into one big fist. But he had no effective punching angle like this.

Austin’s belt jangled, sending dread through Nat’s gut like hot sludge, and then a zipper snicked down. Austin appeared in front of him, dick protruding from the fly of his jeans, and the sick fucker was already hard. “Went commando just for you,” Austin said.

Gee, you shouldn’t have.

One less barrier to get through, but most of the shaft and his balls were still protected by denim—bad target for punching.

Biting, though…

Goddamn Austin produced the knife again and ran the blade lightly down Nat’s left cheek to his lips. “Open.”

Nat glared and kept his lips pursed.

The blade’s tip slid between his lips. On a jolt of icy terror at the thought of having his cheek sliced open, Nat opened his mouth a few inches. Austin pressed the flat side of the blade to Nat’s tongue. Nat held his breath, held his tongue still, couldn’t even swallow. Tears leaked out of both eyes, but he wouldn’t sob or make noise. He waited for the blade to slice, for the tang of blood to fill his mouth.

“Good boy.” Austin withdrew the knife, held it close to Nat’s left ear, and then pushed his penis inside Nat’s mouth. “You bite and I’ll cut your throat.”

Nat closed his eyes and let it happen, allowed Austin to think he had the upper hand. That Nat understood the threat, so he’d better fall in line and be happy he was sucking dick, instead of sucking on sharp metal. The hard ground dug into his knees, and the constant pain made it hard to keep his balance. He grabbed the knee of Austin’s jeans with both hands, so he didn’t fall forward and gag himself.

Staying upright also pulled Austin’s pants down a few more inches, exposing the rest of his dick—not necessarily a great thing, because Austin loved to choke Nat with his whole length. But it also took a layer of thick cotton protection away from his balls. Austin did exactly what Nat expected, which was grab the back of Nat’s head and press inside until Nat’s nose hit his pubes.

He pretended it was a john getting what he paid for, not his ex violently attacking him in the middle of the woods, and Nat relaxed his throat as much as he could. Ignored the way his already damaged lips stretched and cracked painfully from the onslaught. Separated himself from his body so he could think. He couldn’t risk biting with that knife so close to his neck and his carotid artery.

But hewouldrisk a cut or two on his arm. He needed better access to Austin’s nuts first.

On the next deep thrust, Nat used his tongue, stroking the underside of the dick, trying to thrust forward and lick at that sensitive spot between dick and ball sac. On the next withdraw, Nat licked the glans, feigning interest in pleasing the man attached to it. The glans stayed there, instead of pushing in, so Nat licked and sucked, using his sore lips and tongue to produced soft sighs and moans from above.

He dragged his tongue down the length of the shaft and nibbled at the root. The hand in his hair tightened and pushed, urging Nat on. With his head turned he lost sight of the knife. He pressed his knuckles to the ground and shifted his balance. Drew one knee up and pressed his foot flat in a half-crouch. He sucked on one ball, ignoring the sweaty, unwashed taste. Austin loved getting his balls sucked, and Nat made good use of his vast amounts of practice. A clanging thud told him that Austin let his jeans and belt fall to his ankles. He was distracted.

Now or never.

Using leverage from his right foot, Nat surged upward and drove both fisted hands into Austin’s balls. Fire sliced across his shoulder and down his upper arm. Austin shrieked as he doubled over, and Nat drove the top of his head into Austin’s chin. Red lights flashed behind Nat’s eyes from that fresh pain, but he blinked it away. Austin was flailing, stunned, and Nat fed on his surging adrenaline to whip his clasped fists like he was swinging a baseball bat.

Both fists connected with Austin’s temple, and Austin tumbled to the ground on a pile of dirt and leaves. Light glinted. The knife was on the blanket by Nat’s feet. He grabbed it in his right hand, then eyed the backpack, unsure if he should—Austin howled out his fury and rolled toward him.

Nat kicked him in the face. Austin nearly ended up in the creek on that fall, and Nat ran. He ran blindly, too terrified to think beyondget away, get far, far away, before he finds his gun!

Flight had kicked in, which he’d take over freeze or fawn any day of the week. He stumbled over rocks, branches, logs, around bushes, and past trees, thick and thin. Twigs lashed at his arms and cheeks. The leash caught once, so he reached over his head to grab it. Held it close to his chest so it didn’t slow him down. His upper body ached; his heart raced; his vision telescoped into the thing right in front of him so he could avoid running into it. Downhill was easiest.

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