Buy One, Get Two and Three... - 10. Chapter 10

Silas

Silas kneeled at the edge of the stage and waited. Master Oliver had told him to wait there but his knees were getting sore and his mouth was aching for the gag. He hadn’t said anything that bad…Not really…Okay, so maybe telling a Dom to go fuck himself with his own dick had been a bad idea. But, how was he to know Master Oliver was nearby and listening? That man had an uncanny talent for turning up just where you didn’t want him to be. Damn Doms!

“Don’t tell me you’re in trouble again?” a voice called out, but, Silas ignored it and kept his position. He didn’t want to get into even more trouble, and he really wanted to do this demonstration. Master Oliver was known as the top master of the whip in the club.

“Good boy,” came Master Oliver's voice as he came into Silas’ field of view. “Now, do I whip you with or without the gag?” he tapped his chin and Silas tried to put all the pleading he could into his eyes. He really hated gags and wanted the foul thing out of his mouth—however much he had deserved the punishment in the first place.

He sighed in relief when he felt the buckle being released and waited patiently while his Master set it aside and massaged his jaw until he could close it without pain. “Thank you Master.”

“Let’s begin.” Master Oliver moved to the front of the stage and raised his hands for quiet.

“As you know this is going to be a demonstration of correct whipping practices. The rules are simple; I will not tolerate anyone shouting out comments, questions, or anything else while the demonstration is taking place. My attention will be on my task and my sub. I will answer any questions at the end after I have taken care of my sub. Anyone breaking these rules will be asked to leave the room. is that clear?” there was silence and Silas saw his master nod.

Oliver

Oliver moved back to Silas and held out his hand. “Up you come boy.” Silas took his hand and rose gracefully to his feet. The young man was all long limbed and smooth skin. The tight shorts he wore left nothing to the imagination and Oliver toyed with the idea of asking him to remove them. he dismissed the idea soon after, this was demo not a scene—not that he wouldn’t ensure they both enjoyed it of course. “Move over to the cross and take your position,” he ordered and let his hand drop.

After Silas had gripped the handholds and placed his feet in position Oliver moved over and pulled all the straps over, checking as he went that no skin was pinched and that the straps weren’t too tight.

“What are your safe words boy?”

“Red for stop, and Yellow for pause, Master.” Oliver nodded and finished his checks.

Moving back he picked up his whip and cracked it a few times. “The first thing to remember when using a whip is the distance. Depending on what sort of marks you want to leave, will dictate the distance you stand from your sub. I am aiming to leave some light welts and so I am standing far enough back to…”

Silas

Silas tuned out his Master’s voice. He wanted to get into the right headspace and listening to Master in teaching mode was not the way. The whip cracking twice more got his attention and was the pre-arranged signal that he should be prepared.

A line of fire blazed across his shoulders but it quickly bloomed into heat and sent pleasure racing through him. He let out a gran and leaned back as far as the bondage would allow. The next was across the left side of his ass. The shorts may as well have not been there for all the protection they provided. The right side followed, Lord, he wasn’t going to be sitting comfortably tomorrow, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass.

By the fifth strike Silas had the rhythm in his mind and he timed his breaths for between strikes. By the tenth he was moaning and groaning continually. The fire was lighting up his nerve endings, and the pleasure was heading toward an overload, how was he meant to last for twenty?

He got a rest-bite when Master stopped to check his bindings. A hand ran over his head and down his cheek before the whip cracked once in warning. The next five strikes came faster and harder, he wasn’t going to last.

He nearly made it, but, then the ninth strike fell and he let out a long low groan as his release rushed through him. Spent he sagged on the cross. The last stroke had fallen during his orgasm, sending him soaring.

He heard words being murmured to him as though from far away. He felt touches to his ankles and wrists, then he felt weightless and he allowed the darkness to take over—he just need a short nap.

Oliver

Oliver just managed to catch Silas as he slumped down once the cuffs were released. Scooping the young man up he headed for the nearest couch. He pulled a blanket off a shelf and, after wrapping round the lithe form, he sat and waited for his sub to wake up. He waved off any interruptions and concentrated on watching Silas. The boy was curled up and seemed to be seeking to climb inside Oliver he was so close.

It wasn’t long before sleepy, misty eyes were blinking in the lights of the club and looking up at Oliver.

“Did I do good Master?” Silas asked in a such a low voice Oliver had to lean down to hear.

Smiling he pressed a kiss to the sub’s forehead. “You did perfectly boy.”

“Good,” came the answer as Silas closed his eyes again and attempted to snuggle closer.