Page 127 of Heartbreak Hockey
“I know that mischievous smirk, Mercy, you fucking sadist.”
Am I smirking? Guess I am. At least he’s smiling though, even if it’s a weak one. My powers of distraction are already working.
Taking my time, I fondle Jack’s balls through the cotton and check on his dick by mapping the shape of his growing pole through the fabric.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to edge me, Merc.”
“Really? Says who?”
His smile widens.
“Which one of us is in charge here?”
He bites his bottom lip, yielding. His eyelids are hooded and heavy. “You are.”
“Good, then it’s time to kick back and feel, Leslie.”
Jack nods, spreading his legs further for me so I have access to his crease, running fingers over the cotton. He shivers when I poke my thumbs under the waistband and pull the back of his boxers down to uncover his plush cheeks, leaving his aroused cock trapped inside.
My man has the nicest ass I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to turn this a pretty shade of red. “You’re mine, Jack, and I take care of what’s mine.” I continue to ghost feather-light touches over his special places, pulling a delicious moan from his pouty lips.
He puts a hand on my shoulder to brace himself and closes his eyes, rapidly filling with desire.
“Over you go, baby.” I settle him over my lap with the pillow under his torso and his long legs hanging off the other side of me. He bucks into my thighs, searching for relief for the problem I created in his groin. I smack his bare ass. “No, you don’t. Later.”
He groans, but he settles. “You’re mean.”
“You haven’t seen the half of it.” Me rubbing his back is my signal that I’m going to start. He relaxes and clutches the pillow. I trail my palm up and over his tall mounds. They perk up in the air and slope toward his well-developed hamstrings muscles. “Your only job is to let go. Kick, fight, swear if you need to. Say what you need to say or nothing at all. Whatever you’re feeling do it. There’s only one rule.”
He perks up. Jack likes rules as much as he likes trying to skirt them. “Oh?”
“No covering yourself from me. If we need to take a break, we’ll do that, but you won’t block your ass from my hand. This is mine to spank.”
“Fuck, yeah it is. Um, what happens if I try to?”
“Then I pin it to your back and pull out my wooden paddle.” Just because this isn’t punishment, that doesn’t negate the necessity for rules and protocol of some kind. The one thing all spankings have in common no matter their purpose is structure.
Structure provides space for letting go.
He shudders. “Jesus, Merc. That’s kinda hot.”
“It’ll feel hot all right. I’m starting now, baby.”
Rubbing the target cheek, I lay down the first smack, alternating at a casual cadence. Even a firm ass like he’s got bounces and jiggles and I love the fullness in my palm when it connects with his supple flesh. I keep a steady pace not smacking too hard or too soft, for now, letting the repetitiveslapsound blanket us. He wants to duke this out with his inner demons and he’s asked for my help so it’s my job to get him there.
When his creamy peach cheeks turn from pink to dark pink that’s when the squirming begins. Not a lot at first, just a subtle movement here and there, but I can sense the disruption of his comfort.
Everyone experiences discomfort in some form or another. For guys like Jack, spanking is the fastest way to take him through such an experience, acting out an emotional conflict on a physical stage. It also gives a defined start point and a finite endpoint. For some, it’s hard to know when to stop feeling some kind of way about any particular instance. Spanking lets his brain know it’s done. That he can move on.
I turn up the heat, laying down sharper smacks that make my hand buzz. Jack’s hisses are filled with pain and relief like he’s a deflating balloon. As his cheeks redden, he tightens his hold on the pillow underneath him, tensing and relaxing his body with every strike. We build to a crescendo, his body is tight with the sting and my heart’s twisted with his struggle. That’s when I give him a break so that we can both let go for a minute.
I rub my buzzing palm over his tender flesh, he squirms and relaxes with a sigh. “How you doing, baby?” I ask.
“Good. Hurts.”
I keep rubbing. We’re on the precipice, right where the intensity is gonna skyrocket physically and within him. I already can’t wait to hold him after this and whisper sweet words in his ear, but it’s not time for that yet. First, we have to get through the hard part.
“That’s just where you should be then.”
