He doesn't say fifteen, sir, so much as he screams it as loud as he can. He's bent and broken and all of this, he knows, is his fault. Liam says it's his fault, so it is, as simple as that. Arguing didn't work--nothing did. Nothing but accepting Liam's word as law.
He wants that hand, wants that finger circling his asshole again. He wants that palm on his balls as he hears that praise--he wants to fuck, or be fucked, he just wants some kind of release.
Mostly, he wants Liam.
Funny, how a few months back he would gladly stab the other the first chance he got. It's a miracle that the strike leaves him upright, because that spot just at the top of Mike's thighs is sensitive, still stinging. This is different than a belt, or a crop, this is a sharp, stinging panging over his thighs.
He's never been so grateful that the number wasn't 20 until now. He's visibly shaking, panting loudly, unable to help anything. He can't even adjust himself, arms bound in a straight jacket.
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He wants that hand, wants that finger circling his asshole again. He wants that palm on his balls as he hears that praise--he wants to fuck, or be fucked, he just wants some kind of release.
Mostly, he wants Liam.
Funny, how a few months back he would gladly stab the other the first chance he got. It's a miracle that the strike leaves him upright, because that spot just at the top of Mike's thighs is sensitive, still stinging. This is different than a belt, or a crop, this is a sharp, stinging panging over his thighs.
He's never been so grateful that the number wasn't 20 until now. He's visibly shaking, panting loudly, unable to help anything. He can't even adjust himself, arms bound in a straight jacket.
He just wants to come.