Page 106 of Unfettered

He grew up forged in ice, and his family’s failure honed that, but Il Padrone offered warmth. He turned from it. And now it’s my turn to remind him of that.

“Alright. Hands and knees.”

His whimper as he follows my instruction is a shot of pleasure to me. The sadist in me doesn’t play often, but fuck if he hasn’t earned this. The pads must be biting into both his knees and hands, especially the way I have him stretched out to make sure he is touching both. It’s a balancing act, because he knows better than to go off the mats.

I partially close the door and grab hold of the cane. Swallowing, I touch it lightly. Sandro taught me to use it properly, but I’m still not overly experienced with it. And this will be the hardest use of it yet. Still, he’s earned his stripes.

“Alright, before we begin, I have one more direction. I want you to come. I’m not going to do anything to help you with that. But one hand must remain on the mat at all times. And the punishment only stops when you orgasm. Because I want you to remember that you got pleasure from someone else’s pain. So you can pleasure yourself while you suffer.”

It’s a slight riff on something Lio did to Ignacio, but fuck if that wasn’t a lesson that stayed with me. The mindfuckery of such a punishment… And this is the perfect time to use it. Especially, as I’m making it worse since I refuse to offer any help. He’ll have to do it all himself.

I let him get started, as he takes one hand to begin stroking himself. It’s a pain-filled groan he gives me as his weight shifts on the unforgivable mat. But that’s what I want. To have that pleasure, he has to cause himself pain.

As his breathing speeds up and his cock becomes half-hard, it’s time to step up the next part of the punishment. Carefully, I line up the cane with his ass, and using my wrists for control and power, I smack him with it—hard.

Cold caning. No warm up. Just pain.

“Fuck!” he screeches as he falls forward, his hand coming off his dick to slam down on the pad, as his weight is unbalanced.

“Remember, this won’t end until you come,” I grit out again, as I begin to lay the stripes down.

It doesn’t take long before he’s crying, because I’m not gentle. I pause every three to give him a slight break, and he catches on to my rhythm. Exactly as I planned. So the next time he thinks there’s a pause, and he speeds up his strokes, I keep going.

It forces him again to be off balance, and his erection flags. Tsking, I pause, careful as I don’t want to do any major damage, but fuck if I’ll let him get out of this.

“You’re going to want to push through. Find your balance, Tease. Because if you don’t, this won’t end.”

He’s panting and his body is taking on a sheen from sweat, but he nods, his hand shaking as he strokes himself again. I’m sure the lack of lube isn’t helping either. For a moment, I consider offering some, but it would only hurt him if he loses his balance again. I can’t imagine skidding on that raised pad with a slippery hand. Ouch. I’m not that sadistic.

Once I’m satisfied that he’s fully erect again, I restart. I lay down stripe after stripe. I vary the rhythm and the strength of each hit. Thankfully, he does find his balance. Desperation works, I guess…

“That’s it, Tease,” I murmur. “Show me you can follow instructions. That you can take your punishment.”

His breath hitches, and I know he’s finally getting close. Thank fuck. I let my rhythm become steady, as the marks are already deep enough and I don’t want to push him too much harder now that he’s close.

I wish I could see his face, to watch the confusion of pain and pleasure dance on his expressions. Next time I do something like this, I’ll definitely make sure I have a mirror where I can see him. Because fuck wouldn’t that be intoxicating…

He moans, his entire body shaking now with the need to come, and the stress of what he’s being put through. Bracing myself, I give him a hard smack as I demand, “Come! Come for me, now!”

And that’s it. He breaks. Both as cum splatters on the floor and he begins sobbing, begging. That’s exactly what he needed.

I stamped my ownership on his body and soul. And now, it’s time to put him back together. To remind him how much I love him. Because I do…just as I know Sandro does. And he’ll forgive Marcus. But first, my Tease had to see what he did wrong, and, like he’s been taught, take the punishment.

I let him sob as I gather what I need for aftercare. The cream for his bruises. The wet towel to clean him. Eventually, I manage to get him up off the floor and help rub him down, pulling him into my arms. As I guide him into the bedroom, he sighs in relief.

“Thank you,” he whimpers before another round of tears fall.

Stopping for a moment, I kiss him lightly, tasting the salty regret on his face. I resume walking toward our bed while whispering, “Always, Tease. I love you. And I’ll always be here to help guide you.”

Because that’s what this is. It’s not about cruelty. It’s not even just a punishment. I gave him what he needed: a way to work out the guilt. And now I reap the benefits by being able to spoil him, to give him the aftercare he deserves for being such a great submissive, and for suffering for me.

We opened our dynamic for Carter, and I’m so grateful for that. But Marcus still owns part of my heart. Not more or less than Carter, but his place will never be in doubt. Even if he fucks up occasionally… Because that’s all of us in life.

And then there was one. I don’t speak, and the Princess doesn’t offer up any excuses. Rather, he keeps his eyes downward, though he holds himself straight, knowing better than to curl into himself and try to hide from me.

Without a word, I click my fingers and spin on my heel, walking out of the sitting room. I have no expectations of him following me. He’s not trained that way—yet—but follow he does, because he’s a good Princess. Too bad for him that he also lives up to his name of Chaos, though. He’s going to regret that life choice, while I get to reap the benefits. It’s probably good that he’s a step behind me as we stride through the house, so he can’t see the evil grin stretching across my face.

Rather than lead him to his room, I take him to my bedroom. So far, all our interactions have happened in either his hospital room or his bedroom, but for this, I need my own space. It was never my intention to keep him from my room, especially since I have the fun toys there, but it just fell into place that way. Possibly because even though I’ve lived here for months now, it doesn’t have the same hold on me as my apartment.