Page 110 of At Your Mercy
The next hit felt deeper, harder. “T-two!”
“Thr-ree, four,” I cried, listening as the crack of the paddle against my skin echoed throughout the room. I gasped, the jolt sending a rush through my chest.
Each one blurred into the next, the rhythm slow and controlled, steady as his breathing.
“Five!” I shouted. Another hit. “Six!”
The sting burned deep, but what built in me wasn’t just pain—it was everything I hadn’t said. All the tension I carried from the past week, the guilt I was still learning how to let go of. Each impact stripped another layer away until I was trembling, breath hitching.
“S-seven, eight—n-nine!”
“Stay with me, babydoll,” Wes said, his voice commanding yet gentle. “You’re doing so good. Almost there.”
My eyes stung. The sound of the strikes filled the room like a heartbeat, relentless and oddly soothing.
By the time the last one landed, I wasn’t sure if the shaking in my chest was from the pain or the emotional release or the growing urge to come.
Wes’s hand stayed at my back, letting me breathe, letting the quiet settle.
Finally, he spoke, his tone soft. “All done. Such a good boy.”
I nodded, unable to speak. My throat felt tight, but there was a strange calm underneath it all.
He helped me sit upright, his arm still around me, thumb brushing absently against my shoulder. “How are you feeling, doll?”
I whispered, “Good. Thank you.” I nuzzled into him, a faint smile on my lips.
“Good.”
Wes’s hand rubbed slow circles over my back, the warmth of his palm sinking into my skin.
When I finally lifted my head, he met my gaze.
“Hey,” he murmured. “I love you.”
I pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I love you too.”
He smiled, brushing a thumb under my eye. “Now, lie on your stomach, please. I think we both deserve a treat after that.”
I scrambled to obey, hissing at the pressure of the cushions against my cock.
Wes knelt behind me and gripped my hips, pulling them up from the couch. I whimpered needily as he began to massage my ass cheeks, brushing his thumbs into my crease.
“God, this fucking ass, doll,” he groaned, his beard scratching against my reddened skin as he leaned in.
I almost jumped as the wet press of his tongue slid across my asshole. “Oh fuck, yes,” I moaned, pushing my ass back to ride his face.
Wes went to town on my hole, quickly building up my orgasm.
“Please fuck me with your tongue, please, fuck—” I bit my bottom lip hard as he did just that—pushing his tongue into my channel as deep as he could.
Wes moaned at my taste and brought his hand around me, wrapping it around my leaking cock.
“Wes, God, gonna come,” I panted as he began pumping my length, drawing more and more precum from my tip.
He stroked me faster, and that, combined with the slick thrusts of his tongue, had me ready to combust. I rocked back, grinding against his mouth.
“Ah—Wes, I’m coming!” I sobbed, shaking and writhing as I came all over his hand and the couch beneath us.
