For the movement, I receive a heavy blow to my other butt cheek.
"I didn't tell you to turn around. Now ten for holding in the secret this long. Stand still. I don't want to waste time with any more spanking than I need to do."
He steps to my side, facing me, and wraps his left arm under my stomach like he is planning to hold me up. When his right hand lands the first time, I realize that I might need that support when I'm done.
"Count them out."
"One...Boss." I remember to call him Boss at the last second and probably avoid an extra spanking.
"Two, Boss," I grunt.
By the time I get to ten, I'm breathing rapidly and fighting back a tear. My ass is on fire. I've practically collapsed into his support arm. I need the spanking to end so I can catch my breath, but I want it to go on forever.
I'm loving every second of Tom taking control.
Tom finally spins me around. He nibbles on my lip.
"How's that ass feel?"
"Good, Boss. Hot. Sore."
He smiles. "I bet. You took it well. Let's give it a break for a minute."
His hands press down on my shoulders, leaving no doubt that I'm expected to drop to my knees.
Tom tosses my dirty shirt that has been draped over his shoulder onto the couch. Who is this strange man who apparently no longer has a fear of stains?
His pants quickly join them. Spanking me has clearly turned him on. His fat, swollen cock is bouncing in front of my face. He rubs it against my forehead, cheek, and finally, my lips.
"What do you want, Boss?" I ask, making sure that I am looking him in the eyes.
"Your pretty lips wrapped around my dick."
"Yes, Boss."
I don't bother with subtleties of teasing him with my tongue. I grab the base of his dick with one hand and start sliding his cock into my lips. I can't take my eyes away from his erection which seems fuller and stronger than normal.
Am I having that effect on him?
He pulls my hair to drag my eyes back where they belong. We smile at each other before I start bobbing back and forth on him.
He breaks the eye contact first. Despite him giving the orders and me being on my knees, I still have some ways of exerting some control.
"Parker, that's...No, stop."
He pushes my face away.
"What did I do wrong, Boss?"
"You almost made me come too soon, you naughty monkey. I want to come in your ass tonight. Hurry to the bed. We need the lube."
I do my best to not look disappointed.
Please not the one finger, two finger, cock routine again.
Tom does not give me any time to pout or complain. He pushes and spanks me down the hallway. I am swatting at his hands while running full speed by the time we get to the bedroom. We are both laughing.
This definitely feels different, but my body still tightens when we enter the bedroom. Everything in our past tells me this is where we go back to our routine, vanilla and boring.
Then Tom pushes me onto the bed and starts rapid fire spanking me.
"I told you to hurry to the bed. Not to hurry and stop at the bedroom door. Follow directions, Parker."
Just as quickly as they start, the spankings end. I hear the bedside stand drawer open, hear the lid unscrew, but I don't feel the one finger.
Instead the jar of lube lands by my face.
"Up on the bed. On your knees."
The urgency and need in his voice reach places in my heart he has never reached before.
I need to help my Boss. He needs a release that only I can give him. He needs me.
"Yes, Boss."
Immediately after I get in place, Tom is behind me and then inside of me. No fingers to loosen me up. No warning that he is about to enter. He just takes me with his entire length. He doesn't hesitate to give me time to adjust. I hear the smack of our bodies each time he slams into me.
I scream his name.
He spanks one cheek and then the other. "Boss. I'm Boss tonight."
I can't say the word because I can't catch my breath.
Tom's grunting incoherent things at me and fucking me harder and faster than I've ever been fucked before.
His guttural scream is followed by him thrusting even harder three times before stopping completely inside me while he shoots load after load into me.
I'm still hard, but I'm exhausted and want to roll over and sleep. This has been an emotionally and physically demanding morning and I haven't been sleeping well anyway.
My Boss has other ideas.
He flips me over onto my back. With grunts and fingers pointing, he gets me laying on my back with my head by the headboard.
His eyes are still wild. He's still wearing his t-shirt and pink cardigan. In the heat of the moment, he never took them off. He removes them both now.
He pins my hands against the headboard and ties me to it with a figure eight and knot made out of the cardigan.
"Baby...Boss, I'm tired. We can..."
He shoves the t-shirt into my mouth, but immediately removes it and tosses it to the side. "Potato. If you need me to stop, say potato."
Like I would ever need you to stop.
"Ahh. Here we go," he says, straddling my legs.
He starts stroking my dick. Despite my exhaustion, my dick is still hard as a rock. His hand tightens firmly and he relentlessly jacks me off. His hand is a blur. With my hands tied and his weight on my legs, I can't even writhe or buck against his hand. I'm completely at his mercy.
A finger from his free hand enters my ass and starts massaging my prostate. His fingers on my dick tighten even further.
A grunt as I come all over my belly and chest.
Instead of rushing off for a washrag, Tom collapses onto me, trapping the mess between our bodies.
"Did I do it right?"
"Boss, that was perfect. That's why you're the boss."
We kiss. He rolls me over and spoons me.
"Potato?"
We both laugh.
"No idea. I just needed some way of making sure you were safe."
A bad boy who keeps me safe. Isn't that everyone's fantasy?
We fall asleep, messy, sticky, and together for good.
Chapter 15
After doing many circles around downtown and finding no spots, I drop Tom off in front of the shitty little gay bar with a row of motorcycles parked in front on the sidewalk. It takes me another five minutes until I finally find a spot.
Somehow, Tom commands attention sitting on the barstool wearing his baby blue cardigan and pale green slacks.
He has changed a lot in the last few weeks, all of it in good ways. He has some kind of magic bad boy trapped down underneath all that pastel. Anybody that can trap as much bad boy under such pretty boy clothing is someone to pay attention to. You never know when guys like that are going to snap, but when they do, it's going to be amazing.
He's fucking gorgeous, and powerful, and all mine.
Every head is turned watching Tom as if not really believing he is in their bar. Everyone else is wearing leather jackets, black metal band t-shirts, steel-toe boots and other rough, macho gear.
Tom hasn't noticed me yet.
The bartender approaches Tom and taps the counter. "What'll you have?"
"What kind of red...no, beer. Something from the tap. Two of them. My boyfriend will be here in a sec."
One of the burly, bear-of-a-trucker looking dudes wanders over from the pool table.
"'Sup, twink. Why don't you come over to my table and keep me company for a while until I'm ready to take you home."
Shit. This is a horrible idea. We should be home sipping wine and telling corny jokes with our tame friends or changing into our snuggly pajamas.
I'm starting to realize the reality of taking our bad boy games outside of the privacy of our own apartment. These guys won't just wander into another room like our dogs do when we get frisky.
My mind starts flailing for ways to get out of this mess that don't involve either calling 9-1-1 because one of us needs rushed to the hospital or sucking some stranger's dick in the middle of the bar.
Tom, however, just ignores the monster.
"Parker. You found a parking spot."
He hops down from his stool and pats the cushion, saying, "Have a seat. I ordered beer already."
He turns to see if the bartender has returned yet.
Meathead grabs Tom and spins him back around. "I was fucking talking to you. I said you need to come over here with me until I'm ready to take you home."
"Are you fucking serious?" Tom shouts at the jerk. "I understand the macho charade and I get that some people fall for that shit. But if your entire game revolves around being a gross pig and making demands of sex, I bet you go home alone pretty often. Well, that and your bad breath. Get the hell out of here before I take care of this in a way that maybe you'll understand a little better."
Parker pulls a gun from somewhere under his cardigan and holds it steadily at the bully.
The bully is frozen in place, barely breathing or blinking for several seconds. His first move is to drop his hands to the crotch of his blue jeans which has a dark spot of piss that is spreading down his legs. His next move is to turn and run out of the bar.
Laughing and catcalls that mock him as he passes ends the silence that I had not even noticed swallowed the room.
The bartender sets our beers in front of Tom. Tom drops a twenty on the bar, chugs the first, and then the second. He uses the sleeve of his cardigan to wipe the foam from his mouth.