Chapter Two #2
He shoves himself backward suddenly, clearly trying to push me off, but all it does is grind his ass harder against my crotch.
My body reacts instantly… blood rushing south, my cock thickening and pressing against the front of my jeans.
It wasn’t planned, but the friction, the heat of him, the thrill of having him pinned and helpless under me…
it’s too much. My cock swells fully, obvious now through the denim.
I swallow thickly and clos e my eyes for a second, breathing through it, trying to keep control.
Andrew freezes beneath me. His voice comes out small and uncertain. “Uh… Slade? What’s… what’s that?”
A dark grin tugs at my lips. My sensibility must fly completely out the window because I actually roll my hips forward, grinding my hard bulge slowly against the curve of his ass. “Oh, that ?”
Andrew whimpers, the sound soft and broken. “ Jesus Christ… ” He tries to shift forward a little, away from the pressure, but the cuffs and my grip keep him exactly where he is.
I lean in closer, bending over his back as I keep him pinned. My voice drops to a rough whisper against his ear. “Hmm… that would be a good punishment, huh?”
“Wh-what?” His breathing picks up, fast and shallow.
I press my weight down a little more, letting him feel every inch of me. “Splitting you open. Letting you feel the pain and burn of the stretch… maybe then you’d consider behaving.”
Andrew squeezes his eyes shut tight, lips pressed together. He doesn’t speak. Not a single smart-ass comeback. No cocky grin, no talking back. Just silence and the rapid rise and fall of his back under me.
The sight of him like this… finally shutting up, submitting, wrists cuffed and body trembling beneath mine… sends a dark, pleased thrill through me. I like it more than I should, a lot more .
The room feels smaller, hotter, the air thick with the scent of Andrew’s adrenaline and the faint trace of the antiseptic I’d used on his cheek earlier.
His silence does something dangerous to me…
makes the dark satisfaction coil tighter in my gut.
For once, the kid who never shuts up is quiet, and it’s because of me.
I keep my grip firm on the chain between the cuffs, pinning his wrists against the small of his back, while my free hand slides down to grip his hip, holding him exactly where I want him.
My cock is achingly hard now, pressed tight against the seam of his jeans, and every small shift of his body sends another pulse of heat through me.
“This is what it takes, huh?” I mutter, voice low and rough, leaning closer so my breath brushes the back of his neck. “Pin you down, take away every ounce of control, just to make you listen for once.”
Andrew lets out a soft, broken whimper, hips twitching like he can’t decide whether to push back or try to crawl away. The movement only grinds him harder against my bulge, and I have to bite back a groan.
I tell myself this is purely for punishment…
nothing more. He needs to learn that actions have consequences, real ones.
That he can’t keep pushing and stealing and fighting without paying for it.
He won’t enjoy this. He’ll hate every second of the stretch, the burn, and the helplessness.
That’s the point, to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.
My hand moves deliberately, sliding around to the front of his jeans.
I pop the button with a quick flick, then drag the zipper down slowly, letting him hear every tooth separate.
Andrew’s breathing hitches, turning into another whimper as I shove the denim and his boxers down just enough to bare his ass, the fabric bunching around his thighs.
“Look at you,” I say, disappointment threading through every word even as my palm smooths over the firm curve of one cheek.
“Nineteen years old and still acting like a reckless brat who needs to be put in his place. Your friends are out there building lives, and here you are… stealing from cops, getting into fights, making me drag you home.”
I squeeze his ass roughly, then spread him open with my thumb and fingers.
Andrew wriggles harder, a desperate little sound escaping him as cool air hits his exposed hole.
He’s tight, untouched, and the sight of it sends another unwanted surge of lust through me.
I ignore it as best I can. This isn’t about pleasure, it’s about dominance, about making sure he understands exactly who’s in control here.
I straighten up just enough to reach the nightstand beside the bed, yanking the drawer open with more force than necessary.
My fingers close around a small bottle of lube…
because what guy like Andrew doesn’t keep lube next to his bed.
I pull it out, flick the cap open with my thumb, and squeeze a generous amount onto my fingers.
The slick, wet sound fills the quiet room like a threat .
Andrew’s head turns slightly, cheek still pressed to the sheets, and he lets out another whimper when he hears it… high and shaky.
“Stay still,” I command, voice hard. I circle one slick finger around his entrance, teasing the tight ring of muscle without pushing in yet. “You’re going to take every bit of this, Drew. Feel exactly what happens when you push me too far.”
I press the tip of my finger inside, just the first knuckle, and Andrew immediately starts wriggling again, hips jerking, thighs trembling, soft desperate whimpers spilling from his lips as the unfamiliar stretch begins.
I don’t soothe him. I keep my movements clinical, working the lube in slowly, adding a second finger when his body starts to give just a little.
“Fuck… Slade!” he gasps, voice cracking, body twisting under my hold.
“ Quiet ,” I snap as I scissor my fingers gently but relentlessly, opening him up. “This is what you earned. You think sorry fixes everything? You think I’ll just keep bailing you out forever while you throw your life away?”
I curl my fingers deliberately, searching, and when I brush that spot inside him his whole body jolts with a sharper whimper, hips bucking involuntarily.
I pull back immediately, refusing to give him any rhythm, any relief.
This isn’t for enjoyment. It’s punishment.
Even if my cock is throbbing painfully against my zipper at the sight of him like this…
cuffed, exposed, and trembling beneath me .
I add more lube, a third finger stretching him wider, the wet sounds obscene in the room. Andrew’s whimpers turn into shaky, broken noises, his ass clenching around my fingers as he wriggles and squirms, trying to escape the relentless prep.
“You’re going to feel every inch when I finally split you open,” I murmur, voice dark and steady, even as heat builds low in my belly. “Burning, full, and helpless. Maybe then you’ll think twice before you pull another stunt like tonight.”
I keep working him open, slow and thorough, telling myself over and over that this is only to teach him a lesson.
Even as his body starts to relax just a fraction around my fingers, even as those whimpers begin to sound a little less purely pained and a little more overwhelmed.
I won’t let myself acknowledge anything else.
The wet sounds of my fingers working in and out of him fill the room, mixing with Andrew’s constant, shaky whimpers.
He’s not moaning… just those ashamed little sounds that slip out despite how hard he’s trying to hold them back.
His body keeps betraying him, clenching around my fingers every time I push deeper, but I refuse to let him have any real pleasure from this.
I pull my fingers all the way out, then bring my fingers down in a sharp, deliberate smack right against his exposed hole. The wet slap echoes loudly. Andrew jerks hard, a startled whimper breaking from his throat as his hips twitch forward .
“You better not be enjoying this,” I growl, voice low. “This is punishment, Drew. Not some fucking reward for bad behaviour.”
I smack his hole again, harder this time, the slick sound even filthier.
His rim flutters visibly from the impact, and another ashamed whimper escapes him.
I slide three fingers back in without warning, stretching him wider, scissoring roughly.
When I brush against his prostate he jolts like he’s been shocked, a higher, more desperate whimper slipping out before he can swallow it.
I yank my fingers back immediately, denying him any friction there.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, smacking his hole once more for emphasis, my hand stinging.
“You don’t get to feel good. You don’t get to moan and push back like a needy little slut.
You’re supposed to hate this. You’re supposed to learn . ”
Andrew’s breathing is ragged, his cuffed wrists flexing uselessly against my grip on the chain. He squirms again, trying to shift away from the relentless teasing, and a pained sound escapes him… this one different.
“Slade… my face hurts,” he whispers, voice small and muffled against the sheets, the black eye and cut cheek clearly throbbing.
I pause for half a second, staring down at the nasty bruising blooming across his face.
He doesn’t deserve mercy, not after the shit he pulled tonight, but the kid’s face already looks like hell.
With a rough sigh, I shove him forward by the hips, forcing his upper body to slide across the mattress until his head and shoulders hang off the other side of the bed.
His cuffed hands stay pinned to his lower back, ass still raised and presented perfectly for me.
The new position takes the pressure off his injured cheek and eye, letting his head dangle toward the floor.
“There,” I mutter, the small act of mercy tasting bitter on my tongue. “That’s more than you deserve.”