Page 25 of Kane
He does. I tap the ruler against my palm, then bring it down.
Crack.
The first hard swat lands across both cheeks. He bites down on the apple, a choked whimper escaping.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I deliver all twelve swats with measured precision. Alternating cheeks, building the heat, watching his skin bloom from pink to a deep, angry red. Each impact makes him rise onto his toes. Tears gather in his eyes, but he holds position. William bites harder. Takes it for me.
When the last swat lands, I set the ruler aside and admire my work. The boy’s ass is a masterpiece of red-hot heat. He’s trembling harder now, breathing fast through his nose, but he looks so perfect it’s like the boy is a work of art.
“Stayexactlylike this,” I command. “Do not move. Do not drop the apple. Hands on your head.”
I walk around the table and sit in the chair behind it, leaning back like a king on his throne.
For two minutes I simply watch him. The exposed, punished boy holding perfect position in a quiet corner of the library.William’s eyes are downcast at first, ashamed, overwhelmed. Then slowly, bravely, they lift to meet mine.
What I see there nearly breaks my control.
Pure, raw ecstasy. He’s flying. The boy is loving every second of his submission. The fear has melted into trust and desperate hunger. My little academic is all hard and horny for the monster who just ruled his ass with a wooden ruler.
But I am the master here. I cannot lose control. Not yet.
I stand abruptly. “I’m leaving now. You will remain exactly in this position until I text you. Understood?”
A tiny nod around the apple.
I pick up his phone from the backpack, unlock it with his trembling fingers when he offers it, and send myself a message from his number. Now I have the boy. Completely.
As I walk past him toward the exit, I stop. My hand reaches out. I trace two fingers slowly over his neatly trimmed pubic area, brushing it before tracing my fingers up his stiff cock.
William’s eyes flutter. Pure ecstasy yet again as a soft, desperate moan vibrates around the apple.
I lean in close to his ear. “Good boy. Such a very good boy for me.”
Then I pull away and walk out without looking back. My footsteps echo down the stairs, through the marble lobby, and out into the night air.
The city swallows me again—horns, lights, shadows—but my mind stays in that quiet corner with him.
Exposed.
Punished.
Waiting for my text like the obedient Little he was born to be.
I light a cigarette on the sidewalk and smile into the darkness.
William Peeters is mine now. And I’m only getting started.
* * *
The night air around me, I allow myself a wicked smile.
William is still up there in that secluded corner of the library… jeans and sweet skimpy briefs around his ankles, hands laced on his head, that red apple clenched between his teeth, his freshly ruled ass glowing hot and red as his stiff cock bobs and bounces.
I can still feel the heat of his skin, the way his cock fluttered when I traced his pubic hair. He was aching for it. Craving the torment. My perfect, conflicted little academic.
My black SUV waits at the curb, engine idling low. Padraig is behind the wheel, exactly where I left him. I open the passenger door and slide in, the leather creaking under my weight.
