Page 11 of Balance

“I want a real one,” I told him after the third or fourth strike.

“A real one?” Matthew paused.

“I want…I want you to spank me. For real. Like… not over the pants. I was bad and maybe… and maybe…” I couldn’t get my thoughts to leave my brain, but Matthew seemed to understand. Thankfully for me, he didn’t seem to be interested in doing shit like making me ask nicely. Or using a specific phrase like how some people were irritating, correcting you when you asked if you could do something instead of if you were allowed to do something.

Not Matthew. He just got straight to business. The pajama pants I’d borrowed were shoved down to my knees, and he positioned me so my cock wouldn’t get smashed against his lap. He put a hand down on my lower back, and then that first blow rained down on me. The sound was like a gunshot obliterating the silence. The sting was… holy shit. It wasn’t much at first. The shock was the worst to begin with. But then the sting bloomed into something bright and hot and unavoidable. It was all I could think about.

He hit me a few more times on each cheek, giving me time between the blows to take a breath. It was like he was checking in on me. I definitely hadn’t taken ten total strikes when he stopped.

“Think you had enough?” he asked.

I knew he’d stop if I wanted him to. And I knew I’d die if he did.

“No. Please… I—more.” I said. “Do it. Do it for real.” And then I buried my head in my arms and waited.

CHAPTER 6

MATTHEW

Do it for real, he said, as if now was the time or place to do something like this. Hotel walls were only so thick and if people got the wrong impression, we might find ourselves thrown out. But I couldn’t say no to him.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say stop. No means stop. Wait means stop. Stop means stop,” I told him, smoothing my hand over his ass. It had barely started to get any color at all. What little had bloomed was a pretty pink, a delicate flush. “And you’ll have to keep quiet.”

“I can do that,” Troye promised, his voice tight and eager. He sounded like he’d promise me anything if it meant getting what he wanted. He sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment before he let it out slowly.

And I waited. I waited until he relaxed, and then I waited until he couldn’t relax, and that’s when I started again. I didn’t want to give him too much too fast, so I warmed him up with alternating strikes until his ass was the same pretty shade of pink, heat rising to the skin like the sun coming over the horizon.

Troye whimpered when I put more oomph into my strikes. When he started to shift around on my lap, I pinned him in place by putting my free hand between his shoulder blades and pressing him into the bed. Troye stuffed his mouth with the blanket, and his feet started to kick.

And I didn’t stop.

Troye didn’t ask me to either. He kept his face buried in the bedding, and he whimpered and whined and wriggled in my lap. God, I was so fucking hard that I could barely think. But this was just a spanking. Just me giving Troye something he might have never known otherwise.

His whimpers became more desperate, almost frantic. Alarmed.

“Matt—Matthew…I—oh… oh fuck.” His voice sharpened to a point on the curse word, and I felt him shatter. His body quaked and, between my legs, his cock jerked and he came with an airless scream trapped halfway out. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” he begged, still coming. Still shaking. Still clinging to the bed like it was his only lifeline. And then… almost as suddenly as he’d started to come, he started to cry. Softly at first, just a sniffle. And then another.

And then his breath shuddered in and out of him as he tried to cling to the last of his composure. Then I landed a blow on his sit spots. The tender part of the ass where it joined to the top of his legs. That’s when Troye fell apart completely.

Sobs shook his shoulders, and I stopped spanking. I soothed the area with my hands, rubbing the tender flesh to help drive the worst of the sting away.

“Fuck.” Troye’s voice cracked. “Why am I crying?”

He practically wailed, and that’s when I shifted around and manhandled him so he was sitting in my lap. It was a clumsy sort of endeavor, but I managed to move us up the bed, and I leaned against the headboard. I wrapped my arms around Troye and let him cry, soothing his tears with gentle touches. I ran my fingers through his hair and let him use my chest for a pillow.

He clung to me like he might die if he didn’t. And after he was all cried out, I held him. I worried that if I moved or let go, it would break the spell. Troye was quiet, but not how he was earlier. Earlier, even when he hadn’t been speaking, he’d still been loud. Unsettled.

Now, Troye’s stillness felt peaceful. Not forced.

“Are you okay?” I asked him after some more time had passed. My body was going numb in strange places from holding him. Troy answered, but he mumbled so quietly that I couldn’t make it out.

“I can’t hear you.” I bit back a term of endearment. He was a stranger. An annoyance turned…well… more. I wouldn’t call him that now. Now he was soft and vulnerable. Needy.

“Embarrassed,” Troye said.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

He scoffed. “What kind of grown man asks to be spanked?”