Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

did you have my prints on your skin the next day?" Chase asked, his fingers moving towards the other nipple. And Ty blurted out a hasty 'yes' before the touch was placed where it was headed. Playing now, round and round. "And did you like having my prints on you?"
    Not even a thought of lying flew through Ty's mind and again he said 'yes', only this time Chase squeezed Ty's nipple the exact same time Ty spoke and his voice was nothing but a scream when it got out. And he was left shaky and feeble for one unforgivable moment after the grip was gone, his head heavy now and thoughts too hazy. And the man who clearly enjoyed what he was doing and what that did to Ty, stroked Ty's cheek with the back of his fingers. And Ty was stupid enough to forget himself in that touch because the one placed against his nipple broke his voice and what little was left of his shout ricocheted from the walls.
    It never ended. Ty was sure it went on and on because he lost his voice and some of his feeling too, and Chase kept talking with a quiet voice and spun his web tighter and tighter around Ty. Like he was tiptoeing on the surface of Ty's awareness. Small steps, tiny, with weight of a feather and so slender Ty hardly felt it but the longer it lasted, the more flickering his mind became. Flashes, black and white and bright red and silver-like blue combining behind his closed lids and Ty was completely voiceless when Chase finally let go. Out of words, out of voice. Literally. He had none. Didn't need any either. And still he managed to whimper when those fingers ran over his tender nipple, telling him he could still feel and that what he was feeling was so incredibly good Ty never wanted it to end.
    The next touch took forever to reach his skin, and it wasn't placed against his chest and it wasn't caused by fingers. Tickling, cool and softness mixed with sharpness. Against his back, flickering against the dell between his shoulder blades. Not painful, hardly even there but it moved lower against Ty's back, making his skin shiver and find new ways to plead.
    "You know what this is?"
    "No." So he did have a voice after all, if only a quiet one and one hurting his throat as he spoke. "This is my favorite flogger. You know why it's my favorite?"
    "No." A little louder now but hurting just as much. "It makes the most delicious sound when it hits sweaty skin."
    Ty was still coherent enough to feel a tide of awe and bite his lip before the strike landed. Right against his buttocks, every leather strip biting into his skin and the sound was delicious. And the feel of it was even better.
    "Don't you think?" Chase asked, absentmindedly and rubbed the tender spot on Ty's skin. And all he managed to give as a response was a tangled moan, one than climbed from the sensations brought by that hand. Cool skin against his slightly burning one.
    "I also think your skin looks perfect when it's a little reddish." Another strike, a little lower this time and Ty's whole body twitched with the impact. And he couldn't really say Chase was being gentle, because as more strikes landed on Ty's skin, on his buttocks or precisely selected spots on the back of his thighs or on his upper back, each one felt a little harder than the one before. And Ty gave up on trying to anticipate and calculate the next strike or where it would land or how hard it would be, because he couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't think far enough to keep track, couldn't even bite his lip anymore because if he had, he would've sank his teeth right through. No biting, no composure. None. Just one moan after another. Veils that seemed to last forever and Chase found momentum in each one.
    Chase hummed his contentment with a voice that was like slick sand against Ty's sore mind. Weighing on him and forcing him towards something he couldn't even see, let alone understand. And Chase fed on the poverty of Ty's self-control. Nothing of it left. Nothing. And still Chase managed to strip more of it away with each new strike.
    Ty didn't even know if he was hard or not. He had been but it just didn't matter anymore. He tried to feel individual parts of his body, but could not. Nothing was separated anymore, just one lump of pulsating flesh and throbbing skin, endlessly. Forever. Everything squeezed into a space much too small, the air in his lungs too hot and too thin and too boiling. No sounds, only the pain. The lash of the tool and Ty begged to hear something else but he didn't. No more speech, no