Chapter Twenty-Four #2
For all his whimpering, he pulls his legs up. He’s digging his heels into the bed, canting his hips to get a better angle. Using my hand like that toy under his pillow.
“There’s nothing sexier than the way you’re writhing on my finger right now.”
Maybe it’s the lighting or wishful thinking, but I could swear his face goes up in flames.
I slide a second finger into him. Because I can, and because he’s going to need it in a little while when I bring my toys out.
“Oh, God. Liam. It’s… Oh, fuck. F-feels so good. So, so, soooo…” He’s a constant, relentless ball of motion. He always has been, but it’s the first time I don’t really mind. “This feels way better than a dildo.”
“Skin is always better than plastic,” I agree. Especially his skin.
Slowly and steadily, I finger him, loving the way his warm, tight hole greedily sucks me in. I’m brushing his prostate with each pass. The forceful way his inner muscles squeeze, I swear he’s going to break my fingers.
I’m slow but steady as I work him over. One hand stroking his cock, one working his ass until once again he’s burbling cum.
Not much this time. It’s to be expected.
“God, I didn’t even know I could do that.” His eyes are glassy, and his tone is filled with wonder.
“That’s the point of all of this, right? To learn new things?”
There’s a beat where the rise and fall of his chest freezes. It’s clear he heard the bitterness in my voice.
I can’t help it. There’s a swirl of acid in my stomach. An ashy taste in my mouth when I think of him sharing these experiences with someone else.
Maybe all I am to him is an experiment. The idea that he would have done this or something like it with any asshole who paid for the pleasure kills me.
Well, fuck that and fuck them. I paid, and the pleasure is mine.
“I’ll give you a minute.” He doesn’t realize it yet, but I won’t be giving him too long. By the time we’re done here, he won’t be as satisfied and glowy as he looks right now.
While he catches his breath, I go to the bathroom and run water over a washcloth to get him cleaned up. This is a technique I use sometimes in interrogation. Giving the person a break, a moment of kindness, lulls them into a false sense of security.
Besides, I need to get the vibrator.
It’s thicker than the one I used on him previously, which was more of a vibrating wand. This one is meant to fill him up. It’s also got a much more powerful motor. The three fresh C batteries inside are about to come in handy.
He’s got his eyes closed when I return, but his fingers are twitching, so I know he’s awake.
“Ready for more?”
“More?” He breathes the word. Confusion crosses his face.
“More,” I agree. It’s the only warning he gets before I slide the lubed dildo inside him, slow but steady.
“Oh, Jesus, that’s big.” He’s startled. Breathy. But his eager groan tells me he likes being filled.
“It is,” I say with a smile.
Then I turn it to the lowest setting.
“Oh. Ohhhh. Ho. Ow.”
“Yeah, I’d imagine you’re a bit tender right now.” If he’s not seeing how it’s a punishment yet, he’s about to.
I plant one knee between his spread legs, using it to hold the dildo in place. Then I take his cock in my still-slippery hands and start to jack him off again.
“Liam, I don’t know if I can come again.” There it is. The nerves in his voice. The uncertainty.
“You’re damn well going to try. Unless you’d like to use your safe word.”
He clamps his lips tight. It looks like he’s actually biting down on them. He’s adamant as he shakes his head.
Right now I fucking love how stubborn he is. All those moments of defiance are coming home to roost. My chest could burst open with the satisfaction.
This next one takes some doing. I fuck him slowly with the dildo, then faster, aiming deliberately to nudge his prostate a little, but the vibration does most of the work.
I’m fairly gentle as these things go, but the struggle between pleasure and pain is all over him.
The ties on his wrists are going to leave bruises the way he’s thrashing.
I like that a little too much.
After a few minutes he’s keening, and he’s crying a little, but then he comes again after a few minutes more. Things are coming out of his mouth, but it’s nothing I can understand. I’m not sure he even understands. It’s all a jumble of sentence fragments and sounds.
“Oh God,” he whimpers after a few minutes of catching his breath. “Th-that was it, right? Was that it? Because I don’t think I can handle any more.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. So sure. I’m, like, really, really sure.”
The military taught me a lot. The most valuable lesson? “You have no idea what you’re capable of yet.”
“Sir. Daddy. Nooo.”
The dildo is still inside him. A shiver runs through me when I reach down and turn it on again, this time cranking the intensity up to a higher setting.
“Liam, no,” he says tiredly.
“Are you using your safe word?”
“I really don’t think I can…”
I turn the vibrations higher.
“No. No, I really can’t.”
“Are you using your safe word?”
He’s either shaking his head or simply thrashing due to overstimulation. Or both.
“Daddy. Please. Please.” He’s crying. He’s begging. What he hasn’t done is say “red.”
“You can handle more than you think you can.”
I turn it up again.
“Liam, it hurts,” he whines. He bites his lip so hard it bleeds a little. “Oh, God. It feels good but it hurts.”
“You can take it, kid.”
Then I put my hands on his legs and press him to the bed while I take him into my mouth.
“Liam. Oh God. I don’t even—I don’t understand. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much. It feels so fucking good. Your mouth. God, you have no idea how many times I dreamed about—I can’t… I don’t… Oh, fuck. Aaah!”
This time, when he comes, the hoarse scream he belts out with his entire chest is so. Fucking. Good.
His legs are trembling. He’s come so many times, his body repeatedly tensing and releasing that his muscles twitch and jump involuntarily.
At last I allow myself the relief of unzipping my pants and pulling out my cock. While Ravi catches his breath, I stroke myself quickly and efficient, shooting far too quickly over his stomach and chest.
He regards the spatter through half-lidded eyes, sliding a finger through my cum and bringing it to his mouth. He murmurs something about going to get Mr. Cat, but by the time I finish cleaning him up, he’s asleep, lashes fanned across the apples of his cheeks.
My cum is gone from his skin, but the red marks and bruises are harder to erase. They’ll mark him as mine long after our twenty-four hours have ended.
Lord help me, I’m fucked.