Page 33 of A Mistake of Identity
The sharp intake of breath from Ellis made his cock twitch.
“Ten strikes,” he said, running a possessive hand down Ellis’ spine. “I have a meeting, so we’ll keep it brief. But I won’t go easy on you.” He waited for a beat. “How do you answer me?”
“Yes, sir,” came the shaky response.
“Count them.”
Gabriel brought his hand down hard, savoring Ellis’ jerk against the desk. “One, sir!”
He delivered each strike with precision, watching the pink bloom across Ellis’ ass deepen to red. His little bird counted steadily through five, voice growing increasingly rough.
“Six, sir!”
On the seventh strike, something changed. Ellis flinched away, hands flying back protectively. Gabriel immediately stilled, studying the tension in Ellis’ shoulders.
“Tell me honestly, Ellis.” He gentled his voice. “Do you want to stop? We will. Just say the word.”
He watched Ellis’ hands tremble in the air before slowly, deliberately returning to the desk.
“I need a verbal response,” Gabriel pressed, needing to hear the words.
Ellis’ exhale was shaky but clear. “No, sir. Please continue.”
Gabriel leaned down, pressing his lips between Ellis’ shoulder blades. “Good boy,” he murmured against the warm skin before straightening. His little bird shivered at the praise,repositioning himself slightly to better present for the remaining strikes.
The seventh strike landed harder than the previous ones. Ellis’ body jerked, but his “Seven, sir” came clear and steady.
“Eight, sir!” The sound echoed off the office walls. Ellis’ knuckles were white where they gripped the desk edge.
Gabriel paused briefly before the ninth, drinking in the sight of Ellis spread before him, ass beautifully reddened. The strike landed with a sharp crack. “Nine, sir!” Ellis’ voice had grown hoarse.
The final blow was delivered with particular force. Ellis’ whole body tensed, but he remained perfectly positioned. “Ten, sir,” he gasped out.
Gabriel’s gaze dropped to where Ellis’ cock hung heavy and dripping between his thighs, precum smearing against the polished mahogany and falling onto the delicate fabric of his underwear. Something feral stirred in his chest at the sight. His petit oiseau was hard and leaking from the spanking, making a mess of his desk. The evidence of Ellis’ arousal spoke to something primitive in him, a deep satisfaction at having his boy so perfectly responsive to his discipline.
Gabriel ran his palm over the heated skin, admiring the even spread of color he’d achieved. His other hand moved to check his watch. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Now, stay exactly as you are. Berlin connects in two minutes.”
Gabriel sat back in his chair, savoring Ellis’ questioning look over his shoulder. “Stay, sir?”
His smile turned predatory as he reached for the bottom drawer of his desk. The small bottle of lube appeared in his hand with practiced ease. “For the next hour,” he said, voice rich with dark promise, “I’m going to stretch you open. Prepare you. Edge you.” He ran a possessive hand over the curve of Ellis’ ass. “And you’re going to stay right here, on my desk, through all of it.”
Ellis’ breath hitched, but before he could respond, the laptop chimed with an incoming call.
“You’re completely out of camera view,” Gabriel assured him, slicking his fingers. “Now, be good for me, mon coeur. Stay quiet.”
“Yes, sir,” Ellis breathed shakily.
Gabriel clicked to accept the call, his professional mask sliding seamlessly into place. “Guten Abend, Berlin.”
Gabriel maintained perfect composure through an hour of risk assessments and quarterly projections, his voice never wavering even as he worked Ellis open with slicked fingers. His little bird trembled against the desk, fighting to stay silent while Gabriel’s fingers stretched him wider, deeper, occasionally brushing that spot inside him that made his cock jerk and leak fresh streams of precum onto the mahogany.
Unlike their London counterparts, the Berlin office ran their meeting with characteristic German efficiency. Each agenda item was addressed with precision, giving Gabriel a perfect rhythm to work with. With each new item, he either added a finger, thrusting in and out of Ellis’ tight hole, or scissored them, stretching Ellis until he had four fingers, nearly to the last knuckle.
Ellis tried to stifle his moans, pressing his hands over his mouth. Gabriel admired his attempt, but it only made him want to make Ellis scream. Part of Gabriel wanted the Berlin team to know what he was doing behind the camera. Show them and the world that Ellis was his.
His to play with. His to fuck. His to control.
Unfortunately, Gabriel had to restrain himself. The scandal and gossip that would follow such an exhibition would be untenable. Image was everything to a Rohan.
