Solby 1Shots (+18)

one, two, three

•(only) smut

Sam

There was something I loved about being used that I really just didn't understand. It could be because it was Colby, but the more I thought about it the more I felt like it went deeper than that; like a bigger part of me had always craved being tossed around and having someone become possessive over me.

If you think about it, it's quite fucked up and I'm probably twisted in the head for enjoying it, but by now I couldn't care any less. The way he made me feel was absolutely amazing, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

So of course I was obedient when I was ordered to lay on my stomach and put my hands behind my back, making sure my bum was nice and high in the air, giving him the perfect view.

He stood at the edge of the bed, hands running over both of my cheeks, his light touch raising hairs and goosebumps, only exciting me for what could be possibly be coming.

"You can count, right?" He asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. But of course I could. I knew exactly what this was.

"Yeah," I replied, my heart beginning to race a little faster when I felt the familiar fuzzy black handcuffs click around my wrists. A cock ring, handcuffs, and spankings? He was going all out tonight.

"Well don't just sit there, count to fucking ten if you're so smart."

With a nod I began, easily going through the numbers I'd learned in primary school just to have Colby chuckle at me. "That was great, surprisingly. Good job. Now, lets see if you can count while your arse is burning, shall we? What number should we go to Sammy?"

"Fifteen," I answered quickly, barely giving it any thought and just choosing a number I hoped he'd be satisfied with.

"Good choice," he agreed, bringing a quick hand down on my bare bottom, the loud slap filling the room, and most likely slipping under the crack of the doorway and spilling out into the hallway.

"One!" I yelped, surprised at the stinging rising on my right cheek. The second came down on my left, a bit harder than the first. "Two." Another on the right. "Th-three." The left. "Ah! F-four." Right. "Five!" Right again. "S-i-ix."

"Your voice is cracking," He pointed out, hands cupping my red, burning bum and thumbs digging into the rounds of my flesh. "Can't handle it?"

"Keep going," I said through gritted teeth, growling out a "Se-ven," when he brought his hand down again, this one being the worst of all. Tears formed in my eyes but I forced them away, breathing heavily into the blankets around me. My counts were getting louder and louder, his slaps rougher and rougher, and by the time we were at twelve I was almost screaming them out, hissing and gasping and feeling incredibly embarrassed at not only how much I was enjoying this and how hard I had become, but how loud I actually was. Anybody could hear us, and Colby made it known that that's what he wanted.

"Now," he began, cradling my arse in his palms and occasionally brushing his fingertips over my lower back. "I want you to scream these last three as loud as you want; let the lads fucking know what I'm doing to you."

"But Colb-"

"Do you wanna go to twenty?" He warned. "Twenty-five?"

"N-no."

"Then scream," he growled, drawing his arm back and slapping me with a quick swing of his hand. I cried out the number thirteen, breathing heavily with half my face buried in the blankets, hot breath warming the covers around me. The next two were the same, harsh slaps to my bum, counted out by the distressed sound of my voice, the fifteenth one hurting the most but at the same time feeling so fucking good in the worst way possible.