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“Exactly right. Let’s see how you hold up to me leather. What does your da use, young lad?”

He sighed. “The strap or the cane, Sire.”

“Never a horsewhip?”

“No, Sire.”

I gave him all nine stripes from my belt one after another without a break, and when I finished, I stepped forward and rammed my already lubed cock into his ass.

I’m pretty sure the screams were real and not faked, and I grabbed the metal handholds on the footboard and fucked my boy as hard and fast as I could manage.

After a while, I slowed a little and asked, “Can you come with a cock up your arse, lad?”

“I don’t know, Sire! Maybe!”

“Ye’ll lick the floor if you do. Just make sure it hits a hard surface you can clean with your tongue. You won’t like what happens if you soil me bed linens.”

I went slow about thirty seconds to make sure I’d caught my breath, and then hammered him hard and fast, holding his hips this time to make sure I didn’t press his throat into the bed. He could use his arms to push back, and he had at first, but they were clearly getting tired.

I aimed my cock to make sure I hit his prostate with every entry, and I didn’t slow even a tiny bit when I felt him coming. If I managed it right, he’d stay hard after he came, and I could punish him when he beat off and couldn’t get off again after I finished — which took me about another ten minutes, and my boy was rock hard when I released him before staggering back to my chair to sit.

“All fours, lad. Clean the floor.”

He dropped right down and went to cleaning it with his tongue, and I watched without comment. Would he walk to the cross, click his own ankles in, and then put his hands in position for me to restrain? I was betting he would, but only one way to find out.

* * * *

Davy

I was tempted to refuse to lock my own ankles in, but the wooden pony was still under the winch and no way in hell was I going to risk having to get back on it. Master hadn’t left me on terribly long — I could walk without pain, after all — but it’s a terrifying contraption. I wanted to make this fun for him, but not enough to risk having to ride the pony again.

So I leaned forward and locked my ankles in, and then leaned back and lifted my hands so they were in place for him to lock my wrists in. He used carabiners this time, so I guess he was only doing the period thing when it suited him. He’d also raised and lowered the winch with the remote, earlier.

Master flogged my dick with the cruel plastic flogger once he had me on the cross, but I don’t actually mind that, and kind of enjoy it sometimes, but I still screamed and carried on as if it was terrible. Of course, my dick stayed hard and possibly grew even harder while he flogged it, so it was obvious I didn’t hate it.

And then he released my right arm and walked away from me. “Jack yourself off, lad.”

He settled the chair about eight feet in front of me and glanced at the clock on the wall, which is often hidden, but wasn’t today.

“If you don’t make another mess on the floor in eight minutes, ye’ll wear a little device I like to call a ball crusher.”

Ihatethe ball crusher. It’s literally two pieces of plexiglass in a frame, with a screw-thingy he can tighten to force the two pieces closer and closer together, crushing my balls between the plexiglass so he can see exactly what they look like, all smooshed and tortured.

But I’d had two orgasms and wasn’t at all certain I could have a third so soon after the second. Most nights, I’m lucky if I’m allowed a single orgasm at the end. Master occasionally likes to force me to have orgasm after orgasm until I can’t possibly have another, but not often.

So I jacked myself hard and fast, and closed my eyes and thought of the last time Micca was with us, when I’d had to fuck Micca’s pussy while Master fucked my ass, and I’d had clamps on my nipples while wearing a horse bit to hold my mouth open and my tongue down, with the threat that if I came withoutpermission, Master would put me on the fucking machine for three hours while they went out to eat together. Without me.

But then Micca had ran her hands up and down my sides, all around the clamps, and then held my cheeks open while Master fucked my ass harder than I could ever remember, pegging my prostate with every stroke, and my balls had let loose despite the fact I did my best to hold onto the orgasm.

They’d finished with me and then put me on a fucking station with the fucking machine plumbing my ass nonstop, a fat fucking dildo on it that spread me wider than I’m used to, and then they’d left me.

The true torture was that I wasn’t tied, and there was an emergency button I could easily reach, and it would release me from the fucking station and turn the fucking machine off at the same time. When you turn the machine off, it pulls the dick back as far as possible, which would remove it from my ass. One button and it would stop, but I was only supposed to do that in an emergency. I had no idea what Master would do if I did so merely because my asshole was raw and I didn’t want to be fucked any longer, but I hadn’t wanted to find out.

And it was the memory of that scene from a week earlier that flipped the switch inside me so I could come. When I looked at the clock, I saw I’d only had another minute and a half, and I looked at Master when he started a slow clap, but then looked at the floor as if in humiliation. If we hadn’t been pretending to be a pirate and his recently nabbed boy, I’d have given him a smile.

“The light over the door blinked while you were jacking off, which means I need to check in with security.” He stood and walked towards the door. “Get yourself the rest of the way off the cross. Looks like the scene’s over.”

He turned before he opened the door. “Security issue or not, you’d have gone into a ball crusher at the first opportunity if you hadn’t been able to orgasm. Might not’ve happened untiltomorrow if we couldn’t manage it tonight, but it would’ve transpired.”