Page 54 of Dual Surrender

“My limits are yours,” he murmured.

“You know I said I didn’t want you to consent blindly to everything,” I reminded him, and it was the truth. I wanted Kevin’s active consent, not his passive tolerance.

“I’m not going in blind,” he said.

I pulled off his glasses and folded them closed, tucking them into my back pocket so they were out of the way. “Now you are.”

He smiled.

“If I go too far, I want you to tell me. I need you to tell me.”

“I will,” he agreed.

“I haven’t done this before,” I said.

“Neither have I,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “No one has deserved it before you.”

“I don’t want you kneeling. I want you beside me, beneath me, below me.”

Kevin’s lashes fluttered closed again and he leaned against the tree like it was the only thing holding him up.

“But I don’t believe you don’t have rules,” I said, giving the branches I’d picked up along the way one last check. The jagged lengths were as smooth as they were going to get, as smooth as I wanted them to be. I stepped back, checked my alignment and swung.

The branches landed against Kevin’s ass, bouncing instead of snapping. The sound of wood against skin cracked like a firework in the quiet of the forest. A bird squawked and flew out of a nearby tree, and Kevin gasped, so low I barely heard it.

“Give me a rule,” I demanded. “Tell me what’s important to you.”

I swung and hit him again. Harder this time.

“You are,” he grunted. Then he whimpered, trying to bow his back away from the tree. I reached for him and pushed until his spine straightened. Let his cock hurt.

“You know what I mean.”

Another strike.

Another.

“My work,” he panted as the branches connected with him again.

Kevin’s ass looked gorgeous when I hit him. The way his skin pinked and dried in jagged lines, showing smaller pinprick purple bruises from where I hadn’t cleared away enough of the twigs. He wasn’t bleeding, but he would be soon if he didn’t get his shit together.

“My work,” he said again, hips bucking. “Don’t interfere with my work.”

“That’s one.” I swung again, again, again.

“Friends!” he added, voice still barely louder than a whisper. It was hard to get a scream out of a masochist during impact games, but I’d always been the kind of man to dream big.

“Don’t interfere with my friends,” he said.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I promised. “Work and friends. What else?”

I returned my attention to bruising the softest parts of Kevin’s body.

“Money,” he finally moaned. “Don’t tell me how to spend it.”

I hit him again. “That one sounds a little presumptuous for someone in your position.”

“Daily, I mean. Like, I don’t want an allowance.”