Page 150 of Cold Hard Cash

Cold had told him to be still, and that’s what he would do.

Whimpering, he willed his body to relax and stop wiggling. He had to do this. He knew he could if he focused. Not only did he have to actively think about not moving, but he also had to keep himself from tensing. He gasped when more syrup was poured directly on his stomach.

Cold had to either be kneeling or bowing his head to reach it, his tongue again claiming every drop. His mouth was wonderfully warm and soft, and every touch was exquisite. He grabbed Jimmy’s cock and squeezed, and Jimmy thought for a moment that he just might—no, he was only holding it to tilt it out of his way as he continued to run his tongue all the way to Jimmy’s groin.

And then he stopped.

That beautiful, perfect bastard stopped.

Jimmy’s lashes fluttered beneath the blindfold, and he grabbed the edge of the counter to brace himself as he huffed in frustration. He immediately regretted the sound when Cold pulled away, but he knew he couldn’t take it back. He let his head hang in shame, mumbling, “I’m sorry, sir.”

“As you should be,” Cold said, though it did sound like he was smiling. “I think you know what’s going to happen now, Mr. Poe.”

“A punishment?” Jimmy tried not to sound too eager.

“That’s right, Mr. Poe.” Cold slid his hands over Jimmy’s thighs and spread his legs wide. Each one of Jimmy’s feet ended up in a stool with Cold standing between them, and he urged Jimmy back. “Lie down.”

Jimmy trusted Cold to not let him lay in anything harmful—or too sticky—but he fussed at the cool marble against his bare skin. He shivered, certain he could feel goose bumps prickling across every inch of his skin. His toes curled against the stools, and he let his hands drop to his sides.

He was more aware of his breath, how deep each inhale was, and the way it trembled on the exhale.

Surrender.

Yes, that’s what this was.

Surrendering himself to Cold.

Mind, body, and soul.

And, perhaps most importantly, heart.

Cold placed his hands on Jimmy’s legs and moved up, smoothing over Jimmy’s knees, thighs, and pausing at his groin. He palmed Jimmy’s balls as he grabbed the base of his cock, asking, “Are you ready for your punishment now, Mr. Poe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Breathe for me.” Cold kept his grip on Jimmy’s cock and lightly tapped his balls.

It was enough pressure to make Jimmy gasp, but there was no pain. It was a little strange, but he could handle it. He could do this.

A harder smack came next, higher up.

Jimmy trembled, but he breathed through it. It was uncomfortable and there was a flicker of pain, but not enough to stop. He took another deep breath and remained pliant, though he wished he could see Cold’s face right now.

What expression did he have? Was he pleased? Excited or ravenous?

Or would it simply be that frustratingly calm little smile?

The one he knew meant Cold was enjoying himself but was always a little smug.

He could hear Cold’s soft sigh, maybe a hint of that smile in his voice as he lightly rubbed Jimmy’s balls. “We’re going to continue. Do you understand, Mr. Poe?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimmy nodded. “I’m ready.”

Cold slid his fingers along Jimmy’s cock to grasp the head, pinning it against his belly. He lightly slapped the lower half of the shaft, soothing the sting with a gentle caress, and then smacked it again much harder.

Jimmy cried out then, his cock aching from the spanking. Because that’s what it was. Cold was spanking his cock, and the pain was deliciously sweet and burned like hell. It was strangely addictive, and he caught himself wanting to hump the air to work himself through the overwhelming sensation.

Over and over, Cold spanked Jimmy’s cock with varying degrees of intensity. He seemed to be gauging how much force to use to maximize a balance of pain and pleasure, and Jimmy was struggling harder to remain obedient and still.