Chapter 4 #4
“Should I take off the shirt?”
“Did I tell you to take off the shirt?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then do what I told you to do, the way I told you to do it.”
As DJ stretched out on the mat, his upper body arched. Roy savored every second, because nothing made him as hard as willing surrender.
“When I’m looking at you, I'm not just looking at the beauty of what I'm claiming. I'm looking for what's vulnerable to injury, to know how hard I can push you.”
“It’s better now,” DJ mentioned. “The shoulder.”
Roy nudged his thigh with his foot. “No talking unless I ask you something. When I do, you tack a ‘Sir’ on your answer.”
He dropped to his heels and felt the muscles in the area. When DJ tensed, Roy raised a brow. “But not all better. Don’t mask pain when a Master is playing with you, Dory. Your desire to serve his needs backfires if he really hurts you. Can’t play with a broken toy.”
Roy adjusted the angle of DJ’s elbow further until he felt the tight muscles ease. Then he fingered the shirt. “I didn’t give this to you. You took it. Do you take from your Master, Dory?”
“Borrowed. Just borrowed. Sir.”
“Was that an answer to the question?”
DJ’s cheeks got that red tinge Roy decided to add to the list of things that made him hard.
“No, Sir. I shouldn’t take things you haven’t given me permission to have.”
“Hmm.” Roy slipped the button of the jeans and pushed down the zipper.
DJ wasn’t wearing any underwear. He stripped off the denim and laid it aside.
Fucking hell, Dory was beautiful. Muscular but naturally lean, his ribs and hip bones evident.
He burned off every calorie almost as soon as it was taken in, the demands of the life he’d chosen.
Him working that guitar on stage, sweat on his back, went through Roy’s mind.
He wanted to taste all the tanned skin, the hollow of his elbow, his throat, his chest and stomach, suck on the erect cock and make him beg.
Roy stood up. “Spread your legs out farther.”
Roy stepped between them and stared down at him. He’d worn belted jeans and a short sleeve button down, the fabric soft against his body. He knew he looked damn good in jeans, particularly at the angle DJ was viewing. The kid’s avid regard confirmed it.
Roy’s gaze passed over twitching thigh muscles, the turgid cock, arched chest, and tense lips. He lingered on DJ’s feverish eyes, then did the same visual cycle again. And again. All while standing over him in a position of uncontestable ownership.
The twitches became jerks, his cock wanting to fuck the air. DJ worked to lock his hips down, anticipating that his Master expected him to control himself.
Roy picked up the Clean ribbon. Dropping to his heels, he wrapped it around DJ’s erect cock. He pulled it taut, then let it loosen, making a spiral around the shaft.
Each time he repeated the action, the breath left DJ in a convulsive rush. Roy tied the ribbon under the ridge of the head, putting pressure on the frenulum and stood, spooling out the ribbon so he could idly tug on the tether he’d created between his hand and DJ’s cock.
“Don’t move, Dory.”
“Can’t stop…shaking.”
“Try.”
But the more he tried, the worse it got. His expression became desperate and helpless. “I’m sorry. Sorry, Sir.”
“Anything you can’t control, Dory, belongs to me. So in this moment, your whole body belongs to me. Including your dick.”
DJ wasn’t a newbie to sex and excess. He was a rockstar, for God’s sake. But he was with someone who could do things to him he wanted, but hadn’t been able to trust anyone to do. His body had been seized by the possibilities.
When he fantasized about this kind of thing, he’d get excited as soon as he started to imagine exactly what Roy was doing.
Things that seemed so simple. Like standing over him, unsmiling, looking impossibly sexy in jeans.
Not even touching DJ, and yet his whole body was revved up like a groupie was going down on him with sweet wet lips.
When Roy dropped to his heels again, he rubbed his hand over DJ’s cock, curling his fingers over the damp head. He licked the essence off his palm and removed a studded strap from his pocket.
It was an adjustable cock ring, the studs marking the snaps along the black strap. DJ supposed asking Roy to keep it in his pocket while he was on the job would break those boundary rules Roy wasn’t sure DJ could observe, so he’d bite back the suggestion.
But thinking about it tucked inside Roy’s suit jacket would be so damn distracting.
Roy wrapped the strap around the base of DJ’s cock and snapped it closed.
The studs were on both sides, their rounded smoothness not so smooth when they dug into his rigid flesh.
That discomfort and the tight hold kept him from blowing when Roy bent and put his mouth on the crown.
He closed his hand around the shaft and held it tighter than the cock ring.
Oh, fuck…fuck…
“Stay still, Dory. I don’t want you to move.”
He tried. He really, really tried. During all those fantasies, he’d doubted how much he’d be able to relinquish to a Master.
But Roy’s touch and command made DJ tenaciously embrace the impossible request not to move.
His rational mind went somewhere the fuck else.
All DJ wanted was to please Roy. Do what Roy told him.
Tears of stress trickled from his eyes, and when Roy gripped his balls, a needy animal sound tore from his throat. He was playing his tongue over DJ’s slit, sucking on him, squeezing his shaft.
Without that strap, he would have come. With it, he was throbbing, uncomfortable, hurting, and yet never wanting Roy’s mouth to stop doing what it was doing. Roy lifted his head so he could pull something else out of his pocket. A silver money clip.
He freed the folded cash from it and put that back in the pocket before he held the clip up.
“It has an engraving. Do you want to know what it says?”
Roy wanted him to speak in some coherent way. Was he fucking insane?
The steel gray eyes sharpened.
“Y-yes. Sir.”
“‘A man must master himself before he can Master others.’ The second ‘master’ is capitalized. The Domme who mentored me gave me that. The clip works well between the testicles, pushing them apart, but it pinches like a mother.”
“The cock ring already isn’t…a picnic.” DJ figured if he’d been asked to answer a question, it was okay to offer some editorial input.
“Too much?” Roy dipped his head and breathed on his cock, then put his mouth over the whole thing. All the way down, his lips on the strap. DJ moaned and tried not to thrust into his Master’s mouth.
“Holy hell…Roy…please… Sir…”
Roy slid his mouth off of DJ’s cock and reached down to unsnap the strap.
He massaged the shaft, easing the sudden painful rush of blood.
To resist the need to orgasm, DJ thought he might have to turn on his side and draw his legs up in a fetal position, but his Master wanted him on his back, and had his hand on him.
“You’re doing very well, Dory,” Roy murmured. “You’re pleasing me.”
Just like that, he could hold out a second longer. Maybe two seconds, or three.
Roy tucked the strap away with the clip. DJ wondered what the clip would have felt like. If he could have borne that discomfort for Roy.
“Another time,” Roy said, reading his expression.
He removed the belt and helped DJ sit up, an arm around his back. DJ’s pants remained open, his aching cock accessible. Roy stroked the hair from his face as he stayed on one knee, letting DJ lean against him.
“Take a moment. Even out.”
DJ was vibrating, inside and out. If that was a taste of what it was like to be under Roy’s control, he might become like Tal in no time, addicted to the feeling. Addicted to a person.
It was an unsettling thought.
“You have a strong craving for psychological submission, Dory. I’m going to find someone who can help you explore it in a professional capacity.
Keep it not messy, emotionally, until you get a handle on it and decide what you want.
I have some contacts along your tour route.
I’d come with you to keep you safe, but they’d do the sessions. ”
“W-what?”
“There’s a big difference between exploring BDSM as an experience and seeking a relationship in it,” Roy told him. “It would keep things between you and me on the right footing. I’m not going to be in your life for very long. Just as long as it takes to get this stalker out of your life.”
DJ knew his head was messed up, and Roy seemed calm and in control. But DJ wasn’t imagining the proprietary feeling in Roy’s touch, and that was something DJ wanted to keep feeling. He thought Roy wanted that, too.
Self-discipline was an extreme sport for Roy.
But maybe he didn’t realize what it had taken for DJ to get where he’d gotten in this business.
Self-discipline might look a little different for their respective jobs, but DJ had his own arsenal of it.
He just needed to find his brain and bring it to this fight, right here, right now.
He quelled the overwhelming desire to snarl what the fuck and chose another tactic. He was still leaning against Roy, and he looked into the steel eyes. Hell, DJ wanted to melt in their heat.
Focus.
“When someone belongs to you, Roy, what do you want from them?”
“It’s complicated.”
DJ couldn’t return the tight smile, but he wanted to trace Roy’s firm lips, feel the edge of his teeth. Press against him, taste his mouth. “I’ll make it simpler. What’s one thing you’d demand of your submissive?”
Roy’s hand dropped to close around DJ’s cock. And stroke. Holy fuck. “He wouldn’t come without my permission.”
“I wouldn’t,” DJ said with gritted teeth. His fingers curled around Roy’s bent knee in a white-knuckled grip.
“I don’t just mean in a session. If a sub wants to go down that road, all of his orgasms belong to me. No sneaky beating off in the shower. If he comes in his sleep, he has to tell me, so I can punish him for that.”