Page 72 of Surrender

“I’m… I’m your good boy.” My voice cracks in the middle, but Cristiano hums in approval and steps back to lash me again.

“One day you’ll believe those words,” Cristiano says. “One day you’ll know that even if you don’t think you’re anyone else’s good boy, you’re still my good boy.”

He brings the flogger down on my ass again, hard enough that the pain is sharp. Warmth floods through me, and my cock twitches in arousal.

“I’m your good boy,” I say quickly, just to get the next lash as soon as possible.

“So good,” he agrees, and this time he lashes me twice in quick succession. “You’re doing so well.”

We keep going like that until I’ve descended into such a haze that it doesn’t even hurt to say the words. They’re just words, but somehow… they’re more than that. I take each lash with a moan, my cock going from soft to hard as he continues.

I raise up my ass for more pain, automatically saying “I’m your good boy” even before the flogger hits me. I’m crying, but it doesn’t bother me like it normally would. I’m simply doing what he wants.

Daddy wants my tears, he wants my pain, he wants his good boy.

It seems like an eternity before he stops—an eternity, yet far too soon—and undoes the bonds holding me to the bed. He comes to me and pulls me into his arms, and I’m not sure when he undressed. But he’s naked and hard, his cock pressing against me as he tugs me to him until we’re face to face.

“You were so good,” he murmurs. “What do you want as your reward?”

I wrap my arms around his chest and sob openly against his shoulder. Did he ask me a question? My mind is too fuzzy, and all I want is to be close to Daddy and feel him.

I’m safe with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

CRISTIANO

I stroke Fox’s hair as he cries, aware that I’ve pushed him to his limit—maybe a little beyond it. I can’t be sure. But I want to hear him say those words and believe them, and maybe it’s a case of ‘fake it ‘til you make it.’ I don’t know. I just know that hearing him call himself Daddy’s good boy gets me hard, and seeing him cry had me pulsing with need.

It still does.

I sit up, pulling him into my lap.

I want to fuck him, but I’m not feeling patient enough to stretch and lube him up. I think he’s so lost in subspace that he’d want me to fuck him despite the lack of prep, and while I should be the voice of reason… There is no voice of reason inside of me when it comes to Fox.

He didn’t tell me what reward he wanted, but I forgive him for it because I know how he must be feeling right now—flying through the stars, loving every second of the bliss he has to be feeling.

“Ride me,” I tell him quietly. “I need to be inside of you, my good, precious Fox.”

Fox lets out a long sob, but he nods too, and lifts his hips up. His erection slides against my stomach. It would be easier to line up if he stopped clinging to me, but there’s no way I’m going to tell him to do that.

I want him close, as close as he can be, and I’m not about to disappoint either of us. I use one hand to guide him onto my cock, pressing in slowly. It would be better with prep and more lube, but I just can’t bring myself to stop. I need this, need him, this obedient boy who would say anything for me, do anything for me, even if it hurts.

Maybe especially if it hurts.

Fox moans loudly and brings his hips down. If my hand weren’t in the way, I’m sure he would have lowered himself all the way, regardless of his own comfort. I stroke his back gently and kiss the side of his head, urging him to slow down even though all I want is to shove him down and take him hard.

But it wouldn’t fit the moment. As much as he wants the pain, I want this to be special, too. It feels like nothing I’ve had since…

My heart aches, but for the first time in a long time, I feel freer. Max would’ve approved of this, I think, even if he might not have understood it.

Fox’s thighs quiver from the strain as he slowly lowers himself, guided by my hand, until he’s fully seated. He’s still crying, still clinging to me. My heart thuds faster, and I have to admit I love being this source of comfort for him even though I’m the reason he’s crying.

I grip his ass and press into the flogger welts, and Fox’s breath hitches with a moan.

“I’m… your good boy…” he slurs.

I hum in pleasure, pressing harder into those bruises, feeling the heated skin and knowing I’m the cause of it all. For as long as he’s mine, he’s going to be marked—bruises, cuts, tattoos… I don’t even know yet. But he’s going to be aware every second of every day that he belongs to me.

---