Page 43 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

“Harder,” I said. “Please. Oh gods, the paddle, it’s… fuck.”

He gave me harder. Five strikes in quick succession set my skin on fire. I was making sounds that I would be embarrassed about later but could not stop now, my hips rocking, my cock aching.

“Fuck, you’re a good boy for me,” he murmured, soothing the sting of his toy with his hand, then leaning forward and kissing the throbbing skin. “Do you want something a bit more risky?”

“Whatever you want,” I whimpered. “Anything.”

“Anything?” He switched tools again, tracing my cock and balls with the tip of the crop as a rush of adrenaline surged through me. He wouldn’t, would he? Wouldn’t the pain be too much?

“Anything,” I whispered, a strange sense of calm washing over me as I gave up that last thread of control.

He gave my balls a light tap with the crop. Then another.

Everything in me went still. The tap was testing, nothing painful, the leather grazing the tender skin. But the anticipation of it, the vulnerability of that target, made my entire body clench.

“Okay?” Sky asked.

“Yes.” The word came out strangled.

He tapped again, this time on the sensitive spot between my balls and my asshole. Lighter than the strikes to my ass, but the sensitivity there turned each tap into a bolt of sensation that jolted up through my cock and into my spine. I bent my head and pressed my forehead against the tree bark and whimpered, because my vocabulary had abandoned me and whimpering was the only language left.

I was humping the air as he leaned forward and kissed me where he’d just hit me, sucking and licking that sensitive ridge of flesh that no one else had ever touched. I wanted to reach back and hold his head there, but I was bound, trapped.

“Do you want more, or are you ready to stop?”

“More paddle?” I whispered, wiggling my ass a little.

He picked it up and went back to strikes, steady and clean, shaping his hits to the curve of my ass as he explored which spots made me cry out and which made my cock leak a fresh pool of pre-cum onto the ground.

“Such a good boy,” Sky murmured. “Such a good, gorgeous, obedient boy. Look at you, all tied up and shaking for me.”

“Sky, I need—”

“I know what you need. But I want you on your back.”

He unknotted the cord from the tree, leaving my wrists still bound, and guided me toward the bedroll. I stumbled, and Sky pushed me down onto it, and I landed on my back with a thud. The bedroll was rough beneath my stinging skin, and I hissed at the contact.

Sky looped the cord around a tree stump near the head of the bedroll and tied it off, pinning my bound wrists above my head. I lay there squirming on the bedroll, my cock rutting up into nothing as he stripped off his clothes, stroking his own cock. Playing with me had made him as hard as I was, and that did not help my current state of arousal.

He pulled a small glass bottle from his bag. Skin oil, I assumed, or possibly something he had purchased in Frostholm that I had not noticed. He unstoppered it and poured a measure into his palm.

“I want that massive cock inside me so bad,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about stuffing you in me and riding you until you scream for days.”

He reached behind himself and began working the oil into himself, his fingers sliding between his own cheeks, his eyes locked on mine. His lips parted, his breath caught, his hips shifted as he pressed inside himself, and I couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but the image was enough to make my need surge even higher. The sight of him preparing himself to take my cock was the most obscene and beautiful thing I had ever witnessed.

“You wrote about this,” Sky said as he worked himself. “In The Black Night Guard. When the elf warrior ties his troll captive down and rides him.”

“You read that.”

“I’ve read it four times.” He withdrew his fingers and reached for the oil again, pouring more onto his palm and wrapping his slick hand around my cock. The sensation was staggering — warm oil, tight grip, the slide of his fist. “You wrote it like a man who had imagined it a thousand times. A man who wants to fuck like that. Do you? Do you want your cock to be my big toy that I ride whenever I need something inside me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Well.” He positioned himself above me, one hand on my cock, guiding the head of it to his hole. “Let’s find out if you got it right.”

He sank down.

The tight, slick heat of him swallowed the head of my cock, and I clenched my hands into fists, fighting against the restraints, desperate to grip something. I was going to lose my mind. He was impossibly, unbearably tight and hot, his body gripping me like a fist as he worked himself lower, taking me inch by inch, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, his thighs shaking with the effort.