Free To Say I Love You by Anna Martin

clean, leather-covered playroom. It was harsh and raw and untamed. Master put his hand on my back, still clothed with my shirt, although I was sweating. It was a comforting gesture.
    “How many more can you take?”
    I breathed hard but didn’t move. Master chuckled and removed the stick from my mouth.
    “How many, Jesse?” he repeated.
    “I will take whatever you want to give me, Sir.”
    “Don’t bullshit me. Your ass will break before my arm. How many?”
    I took stock reluctantly. Noting my pain levels would tug me out of the subspace he took me to by the simple act of dominating me.
    “Five, sir,” I said. “Five more.”
    “Good boy,” he murmured and stroked my hair. “Five more.”
    “Thank you, Sir.”
    Each of the next five stripes crossed one he had already made, making a crisscross pattern over my ass. With the stick gone, I wanted to howl, to scream, but there was no way of knowing if there was anyone close to us, and I didn’t exactly want the police to come running.
    “Good boy,” he repeated and skimmed his hand over my burning skin, soothing me gently. “Do you still want me to fuck you?”
    “Yes,” I said quickly. Too quickly—he laughed at me.
    “You’re such a slut. All right. But you still have to work if you want to come.”
    Master was careful of my beaten ass as he gently prepped me, slicking the lubricant just inside my hole and taking hold of my hips.
    “Ease back in your own time,” he said. “You get to do the work now.”
    He’d used the rest of the lube on his cock. It was slick and ready as I rocked back, tentatively at first, then harder to try and take his whole length inside me.
    “Fuck, Jesse,” he grunted.
    He gathered my shirt in his fist. It acted as an anchor since he couldn’t grab hold of my ass like he would usually when fucking me in this position. The bark of the tree chafed my wrists, and I thought of the marks he’d leave on me after this session. They’d be everywhere. I’d be able to feel him everywhere.
    “Please, Sir,” I said, begging as the mental images blended with the physical. “Please.”
    “What?”
    “Please touch my cock.”
    “Have you earned that?”
    My response was a sharp squeeze of the muscles in my ass, tightening around him. He gasped, then chuckled, then reached around to grasp my cock. It didn’t take much in the way of action for me to react explosively, coming even though his hand wasn’t touching my bare dick. No, he made me come in my underwear like some horny teenager.
    The places he took me to never failed to amaze me.
    Still playing with my cock, he shuddered and came inside me. It was intense for me, knowing I was his sub, knowing my purpose in serving him was to give him this. My body. My submission. His to take control of.
    I would have been happy to stay there, bound and waiting until he was ready to set me loose. Not long after he pulled out of me, I felt sure fingers at my wrists, tugging the elastic bands off. We fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs, and I hissed at the renewed spike of pain at the reverberations of the impact.
    “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, pulling me on top of him so my bare cheeks were exposed to the elements once more.
    This was familiar, coming down from an intense session with him, although we weren’t usually rolling around in leaves and dirt. I laughed at the absurdity of it, pressing my face against his neck as his arms kept me anchored to his body.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, stroking my hair back from my sweaty forehead.
    “Mm. Good.”
    “I love it when you’re incoherent.”
    Because I could, I stuck my tongue out and licked his neck.
    “Ew,” he complained and went to smack my backside in retaliation, only pulling back at the last second. “I don’t have anything with me to put on that,” he said, gently brushing his fingertips over the red skin instead. “You’re going to have to wait until we get home.”
    “I’m sure I’ll survive.”
    “I’m