Page 60 of Xerxes Ascendant
Report completion to central office within 30 minutes. Non-compliance will be treated as sedition.
-Order from Mayor Benedict Mackenroth amid the 2068 riots
CHAPTER 17
Akira
“Forty...forty-seven,” Akira forced out, his breath long having left him along with any remaining strength in his limbs. He was kept up on his hands and knees by force of will alone: the roiling, profound need to not disappoint Sir by collapsing before he was done with him, and the fear of what would happen if he did.
“Forty-eight.”
Kyle was being neither gentle nor kind, and stars, it was exactly what Akira had craved. An itch he’d borne for so long and was finally being scratched, the relief so satisfying he could howl – and had, around twenty lashes ago. Yet Kyle hadn’t stopped then, or when Akira had begun to gasp and heave and beg, and the hits were still continuing to rain down in blissful stripes of pain all across his burning, aching body.
A whimper rose in his throat. “Forty-ni...nine.”
Keep going.He had tokeep going.
It had become a mantra.
It was easy. It was hard.
It didn’t matter:he had tokeep going.
“Fifty.”
Sir paused and slid two fingers inside of him once more, teasing and exploratory. His other hand wrapped around and gave his dick another quick, light stroke, clearly revelling in feeding Akira’s desperation.
His balls were way too full. He wasn’t sure he’d gone without release for this long in his entirelife.
“Look at you, making a mess of yourself for me. So fucking gorgeous.”
Akira arched into the touch, rocking backwards in a wordless plea for more. Kyle chuckled and stroked the knot of nerves that had Akira writhing on his fingers.
“Do you want to come, pet?”
This time, his mind emptied of everything exceptpain-pleasure-pain-keep going-pain, Akira responded to the question without thought.
“Whatever you want, Sir,” he slurred, drunk on sensation.
“Oh, such a good boy.”
His Dominant seemed pleased with his answer, and realisation gradually made its way through Akira’s fogged up brain.
He belonged to Sir.
When they were like this, with Akira on his knees, it wasn’t about what he wanted or didn’t want. He didn’t make the decisions. Didn’t have to bear the terror or consequences of making the wrong choice, either, because Kyle took care of it all.
Kyle took care ofhim.
Firm fingers carded through his hair, ruffling it up from its flat, sweat-drenched shapelessness, and then stroked carefully along his cheek and throat. Akira let himself be caressed, too exhausted to move or respond, although he whimpered when Kyle’s other hand settled back around his neglected cock.
Was it more cruelty? Would he be denied some more, continued to be edged until he exploded from the inside with the force of a thousand stars?
Sir had toyed with him for what felt like hours, bringing him to the precipice only to yank him back from it, over and over again. Sometimes with his fingers and sometimes with the contrary thuddy-sharpness of Akira’s own belt against sensitive skin.
Akira had hated every second of it but he’d also loved it, and now he was so turned around and upside down that he didn’t even know what his weak, whimpering mewls were meant to mean. A plea to stop? Or to keep going, just like the chant still echoing in his head?
He was a professional submissive, damn it. He could take it.
