My Renegade (Runaways #2)

Prologue

Benny

I was being a very good boy.

I’d never done anything like this before. I wasn’t completely sure I’d like it, but if how hard my dick felt was any kind of sign, then yeah, I was into this.

The plush burgundy rug beneath my knees was soft, thankfully, as I’d been here for a while. Waiting. Just as he’d told me to. I’d done everything he’d told me to.

Maybe it was stupid, meeting this guy for the first time in the private room of a kink club that may or may not be some form of sex cult.

I didn’t even know his real name yet, and here I was, blindfolded, naked, with a plug in my ass, and kneeling on the floor beside the bed before he’d even stepped into the room.

Because he’d told me to be. And I wanted to please him.

How was he going to respond when he walked in? Would he be pleased with me? Praise me for being good? I wanted that.

There was also the chance he’d be disappointed, though. I was sure I wouldn’t be what he’d pictured during our conversations. At six foot five and with the physique that came from my MMA career, no one expected me to be submissive.

Maybe he’d leave the moment he saw me. I regretted now that we’d agreed not to tell each other what we looked like. I’d thought if he could just get to know me a little before we met, then maybe it wouldn’t matter. What if all I’d done was make it so he rejected me in person rather than online?

Anxiety fueled my self-doubt, my mind spiraling and my dick flagging with each minute that passed. He should be here by now.

Maybe he wasn’t coming.

The moment my sweaty palm lifted from the skin of my thigh there was a soft click. The door. I inhaled adrenaline. My pulse kicked in my chest. My hand jolted back into position as I awaited what would come next. Appreciation or disappointment.

Silence.

A minute passed.

Another.

Had I imagined the sound? Was I still here alone? I dared to raise my hand again, going for the blindfold—

“Tsk. Not even three minutes.”

I gasped, sitting up straighter. I didn’t need to see to know that goosebumps rippled over my exposed skin just at the sound of his voice. It was softer than I’d imagined, but just as authoritative. And so close. He was standing right in front of me.

“S-sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” I answered him cautiously.

“Did I tell you to take the blindfold off if I wasn’t here?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, S-sir.”

“Then what did I tell you?”

“You told me to… to wait for you, like this.”

“Are those the words I used?”

He sounded disappointed. My chest tightened.

“You said…” My tongue darted out to wet my lips, embarrassment heating me up from the inside. “To wait for you… kneelin’ by the bed, with my hands on my knees, naked and blindfolded.”

“And?”

“And to use what I found on the bed.”

“Did you use it?”

“Yes.” I swallowed. It wasn’t my first time using a butt plug, but I hadn’t expected to find one quite so large when I’d arrived. Still, I’d done what he asked.

“Show me.”

My tongue felt too big for my mouth. My chest constricted with something close to anxiety. But my cock was hard as steel again.

I had no idea what he looked like, and he was seeing all of me. The imbalance of it all was intoxicating in a way I’d never experienced but knew in this moment that I’d always craved.

My hands left my thighs, this time to sink into the plush rug as I pushed onto my knees and turned around… presenting myself to him. Letting him see the flared black base of the plug inside me.

“You can do better than that.”

I shuddered as I exhaled, my skin heating further as I lifted a hand off the rug to grasp the round flesh of my ass and spread myself for him.

“More.”

My other hand left the floor, copying the first.

Silence. And then two fingers were pressing between my shoulder blades, urging me forward. I let them, sinking until my cheek pressed against the rug and my ass was raised in the air.

“Good.”

My cock jerked as if the praise was meant for it.

“You look good like this, Forrester.”

He knows who I am.

The bliss that rippled over my skin from his praise combined with a spike of nerves at being recognized.

Those fingers trailed down my spine slowly, pleasure and relief rippling from that small connection like capillary waves, lower and lower, until he tapped the base of the plug and a harsh breath met the carpet as it jolted inside me.

“You like that,” he mused. It wasn’t a question.

It felt like he had taken one look at me and he knew me. Knew who I was. Knew how to control me. How to expose me. My dick was probably leaking already.

“Maybe I’ll get you an even bigger one if I let you fuck me.”

I whined, an involuntary sound I’d never heard myself make before. He chuckled.

“You want to fuck me while you’re stuffed full?”

I nodded.

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

I shuddered. I’d been called many things before—handsome, sexy, hot—but never pretty. I liked it. “Yes,” I spoke in a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’ll have to earn it.”

“P-please. Please tell me how to earn it.”

He made an amused sound. “Stay still, and under no circumstances are you to touch your cock.”

There was only a moment to consider what he was going to do to me before the plug thrummed to life, shocking my insides with the power of the vibrations. I couldn’t help the cry that left me, but I stayed where I was, gripping handfuls of my ass tighter to fight the urge to move them.

After a moment, the vibrations increased, and I cried out again, gripping my flesh so firmly my knuckles must have turned white.

“Don’t move,” he reminded me, sounding far too pleased.

Then he was silent, and I had nothing but the weight of his gaze to tether us together. Seconds turned to minutes, and the vibrations increased unpredictably until I was drooling onto the rug. My cock did the same.

Throughout it all, he didn’t touch me further. He just watched.

“Do you think you can come from just this?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“You need friction on your dick?”

“Nng, yes.”

“Turn around, then.”

I did, returning to my earlier position, hands on my thighs as the plug continued buzzing inside me.

“You make some pretty sounds, Forrester. I like them.”

Hearing my name in his voice made me shudder again, my cock twitching with a demand to be touched. I ignored it.

“They call you The Bear, don’t they?”

“Y-yes.”

“Hmmm. It doesn’t suit you. You aren’t a bear. You aren’t a predator at all, are you? You’re just a puppy. So eager to please.”

I’d spent my life building my reputation. Being fearsome. Intimidating. Benny “The Bear” Forrester. My stage name. My lie. He saw right through me, and I couldn’t see him at all.

“Will you be my good puppy?”

My heart stuttered at the thought of being his anything. “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Fingers tangled through the short strands of my hair, petting me for only a moment before withdrawing again, and I wanted to grab his hand and pull it back to me.

“Now, you’ll do whatever I tell you to, won’t you? You want to be good for me.”

“Yes. I want to be good.”

I flinched as a weight landed over my lap. Soft. Plush. A pillow.

“Hump it.”

My hand trembled as it lifted off my thigh, grasping the fabric. He wanted me to hump this?

“Ah… I…”

“What’s the problem?”

“Um… nothin’, so just… hump it?”

“That’s right. Put it between your legs and rut against it like the needy dog you are.”

Okay. I wasn’t sure what I expected us to be doing here, but fucking a pillow hadn’t crossed my mind. It was embarrassing, and yet I found myself wanting to do it anyway. Because he’d asked me to.

Hesitantly, I spread my legs wider, stuffing the pillow between them. The texture of the fabric on my heated and sensitive skin had me biting my lip.

“Now, hands back on your thighs.”

I obeyed.

“Fuck it.”

My hips spurred into action before my mind caught up, grinding my cock against the pillow.

“You can do better than that.”

I rocked harder, faster, the friction on my dick making me groan. The plug still buzzing inside me increased again, and I damn near whined.

“That’s it, puppy.” He chuckled. “Rutting like a bitch in heat. Keep going. You’re going to come all over that pillow.”

It was too much. It wasn’t enough. If I could just stroke myself a few times, I’d finish in seconds.

“Don’t you dare use your hands,” he said, as if reading my mind.

I whimpered in response.

“You don’t need them. You can do it like this.”

The more I rocked myself against it, the more I could feel the pillow dampen with my precum. I wanted to touch myself so badly, my release building and building, yet still out of reach.

“I—I can’t.”

“You can. You will.”

I grunted, thrusting faster. So close.

“You look so pretty.”

I came, my cock firing in appreciation of the praise as I moaned. My thrusts slowed as my dick trailed through its mess. I panted to catch my breath.

“Good boy.”

I nearly whimpered again.

Then his fingers were combing through my hair again. Firmer this time. Longer. A reward for doing a good job. I pressed into the touch, desperate for anything he would give me.

“You did so well. Did you enjoy yourself?”

I nodded softly.

“Good. We should do this again.”

Sudden panic constricted my chest. I didn’t want this to be over. “What about you?”

“I enjoyed myself watching you.”

“B-but—”

“Next time.” His tone left no room for argument. I bit my lip as I nodded.

The buzzing continued inside me, far too much for my now oversensitive body. “The plug…”

“You can take it out after I leave.”

I still didn’t want him to go. Not yet. Not when I’d finally gotten a taste of this after so long craving it. I wanted to see him, to show him my appreciation, to pleasure him in return. I nodded anyway.

“Five minutes. Count them. Don’t take the blindfold off or move from this spot until the time is up. I’ll know if you do. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy. Maybe next time, I’ll let you touch me back.” Then his hand withdrew. “Five minutes, Benny Bear. Three hundred seconds. Count them.”

“Three hundred…” I sighed. “Two hundred and ninety-nine… two hundred and ninety-eight…” I tried to listen for him, tried to find where he was. “Two hundred and ninety-seven… two hundred and ninety-six… two hundred and ninety-five…”

The plug continued buzzing.

“Two hundred and eighty-eight… two hundred and eighty-seven…”

The door clicked.

“Two hundred and eighty-six.”

I knew he was gone. I knew he wasn’t sticking around to make sure I counted all the way down to zero.

I continued counting anyway. I didn’t move from my spot on the rug.

I didn’t take the blindfold off or the plug out.

Because he’d told me not to. Because I was a good boy. Because I’d do whatever he wanted.

I had no idea who he was. But I already needed more of him.