Page 73 of A Dangerous Game
Carter screams.
26 is the same.
A scream is no longer possible. Breathing is hard enough.
27, 28, and 29 are the backs of his thighs. Carter goes boneless against the bench, his vision fuzzy.
“Thirty!” the crowd shouts as the flogger comes down on his ass again.
“Thirty-one!” On his ass again.
“The big finale!” sir roars.
Everyone cheers and laughs and whoops. Carter feels like the enter bench is slowly spinning, sort of like when you lay down drunk and the room spins.
“Make sure to count, slave,” sir says to him, his voice quieter. He taps gently against Carter’s abused ass. “Slave, you’re going to count, yes? Thirty-two?”“Y-yes, sir,” Carter barely whispers. “Th-thirty-two.”
The flogger comes down so hard Carter’s vision darkens around the edges. Carter makes sounds. He’s hoping they’re close to the number 32. They must be because he isn’t yelled at or hit again.
Something loud pops nearby. Carter startles, blinking rapidly as he searches out the sound. He finds sir holding a bottle of champagne. The liquid bubbles up. Sir moves so the liquid sprays across Carter’s skin. Carter clenches his teeth and shudders.
Sir pours the champagne into glasses and gives one to Benny. They clink them together, both grinning like they’ve never been happier.
Carter sinks into the bench and focuses on breathing.Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
After an eternity – or maybe no time at all, Carter can’t really trust his mind at the moment – sir returns to him. He runs a hand over Carter’s head in a soothing gesture and murmurs, “You did so good for me.”
Carter only manages a soft humming sound in return, but his whole body hums under the praise too.
Sir eases the bench down a little, until Carter's body is at the perfect angle to be fucked by him. When Carter peeks over his shoulder, he catches a glimpse of red rope in sir’s hands.
God, Carter loves rope…
And from the way sir smirks when their gazes meet, sir remembers.
“I’m going to release your upper body from the restraints," sir explains quietly. "Don't move. I will put you where you need to go."
Carter is fucking relieved to hear that. He’s too exhausted to be moving on his own. “Yes, sir.”
Sir reaches over, releasing the cuff on Carter's right wrist, then his left. His biceps are freed next. Then his waist. Sir pulls him back, so he's mostly just supported by his still-bound lower body. He begins to wind the red rope around Carter's upper body, the pattern almost identical to the one he used in his office when he had punished Carter over his desk. The rope had the same calming, arousing effect on Carter this time, but it's paired with an uncomfortable spark of pain every time the rope shifts against his abused skin. At least sir secures his arms against his back right where the leather bondage strip had been, settling them across a stretch of untouched skin.
“You look so damn pretty, pet," sir whispers, chin hooking over his shoulder so he can brush his lips along the shell of his ear. "Your skin is almost as red as this rope you love so much. How nice of you to match for me. Such a good boy."
Carter shivers, his cock bobbing in the air at the praise.
The toy in his ass – which was already starting to slip out – is gently removed and tossed elsewhere.
“Just a little longer," sir assures him as he nudges his cock into Carter's empty, twitching hole. "So good for me. Such a good fucking boy. Fucking perfect. Fucking-" he cuts himself off with a low groan that makes Carter feel very good about himself, sir's cock bottoming out inside him.
The audience breaks through the little bubble sir had managed to create for them, their cruelty making Carter suddenly feel the very opposite of good about himself.
“Fuck that hole!”
“Use the slut!”
“If only Maison could see you now!”
“Fucking pathetic!”