Remy moaned softly, whimpering at the feel of the cold air on
his bare chest and pebbled nipples. It was the middle of winter and
there was no heat on in the boathouse. That had been Logan's doing,
not Remy's. Masochist though he was, even he drew the line somewhere.

His feet were cold too, he realized with a shiver. He was
barefoot and even though only the balls of his feet were touching the
wooden floor, the chill was making his toes numb.

His breath hung in brief clouds as he shivered in his bonds.
He was wearing nothing but a pair of soft black leather pants, a
posture collar and a pair of sturdy suspension cuffs on his wrists
and he was freezing.

His fingers were starting to go numb from lack of circulation
and cold and he wondered when Logan would return. He took comfort in
the fact that he could escape if necessary, but he would only do that
in an emergency. No, he was too well trained to attempt to get away
without a damn good reason.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, he forced himself to relax, to
turn inward and to wait for his Master's return. Moments later, he
jumped at the feel of warm fingers tracing the scars on both sides of
his ribs. He could feel hot breath on his neck as the fingers slowly
traced each of the scars…three on each side, straight, parallel
lines, slightly raised. Marks of ownership.

Remy knew who he belonged to. He belonged to the man
currently caressing him…the man whose claws perfectly matched the
straight white lines traversing his ribs. His Master. His lover.
His everything.

He was careful to remain quiet. If his Master wanted him to
speak, he would tell him. Oh, but he wanted to speak, to beg, so
badly. Wanting, needing, trembling…waiting.

Soon enough, his obedience was rewarded. He felt his
Master's hands reaching around to undo his pants, sliding them off
his hips. The sensation was wonderful and horrible at the same time…
his cock sprung free, rock hard and dripping and he moaned at the
conflicting sensations: hot and cold, rough and smooth, relief and
agony.

He could feel the rate of his Master's breathing increase
against the back of his neck…could feel the dark need rolling off of
him. His Master wanted him. Oh yes, wanted to hurt him, love him,
wanted…him.

He knew what was coming. He welcomed it. The first blow
still came as a shock, though. It always did. The hand was hard and
unforgiving against his bare ass and he stifled a cry. No gag
tonight, he was being rewarded and he wouldn't disobey.

The blows came hard and fast, one right after another. His
cock was throbbing. He was so desperately close to the edge.
Please. Now. Take me. He screamed these inside his head, while
outwardly he was silent, obedient.

His Master took pity on him. Strong hands steadied his
hips. A thick, hard cock was pressed up against his abused ass. He
stifled a cry as he was entered…so good, so hot and think and…he sunk
his teeth into his lip and felt his Master do the same to his
shoulder, ruthlessly slamming into him at the same time.

His Master reached around, taking his straining, desperate
cock in hand and stroked him in time with his savage thrusts. Close,
he was so close. Just…a…little…more.

"Cum for met, pet. I wanna hear you screaming for it," came
the growled command, hot in his ear. His Master's thrusts were
harder now…ragged. It was all too much and….

He whimpered, then howled. "Oui, oui, Maître! S'il vous
plait!" Crying and screaming and coming in long throbbing spurts.
Teeth sunk hard into his abused shoulder once again as his Master
sunk himself to the hilt and exploded into his aching ass.

He screamed deliriously as his Master came, wailing and
whimpering and bucking and coming so hard it hurt. The edges of his
vision were beginning to go dim and he gratefully surrendered.

"Love ya, pet," he heard through the haze and smiled as the
darkness claimed him.

END