Chapter 17
As soon as I catch my breath, Zane is hitting pause on the audiobook and storming up the stairs without a word. I’m not concerned about him though. I’m sure everyone needs to process their queer-awakening in their own way.
Besides, I got everything I wanted—my art supplies, uncuffed hands, and a jerk-off session with my kidnapper. All wins in my book, and I hardly had to act out to get any of it.
The basement door slams shut, and I’m left alone with the lingering scent of our releases. I’ll clean myself up in a second, but right now, I lay back to stretch my arms above my head, reveling in the freedom of movement without restriction. God, does it feel good.
Next, I’ll get Zane to let me roam freely in the house. Or at least move to his bedroom. Hopefully he’ll let me keep the collar on. I’ve grown very fond of the metal around my neck. Like he’s put his claim on me, even if he’s clearly still coming to terms with his newfound attraction for me.
I wipe my cum up with a paper towel from the roll he left down here for me, and pad over to my art supplies, running my fingers over the familiar textures of the brushes.
This really is the best morning I’ve had in a long, long time.
Exactly the kind of excitement pre-kidnapped me was seeking.
I still can’t believe my stalking attempt actually led me straight to what I was looking for.
Well, almost. But after getting off together just now, I feel closer than ever to what I truly want.
I eye the largest canvas leaning against the wall, the blank space is practically begging for color. I tilt my head, studying it the way I always do before starting a new piece, imagining what might emerge.
Zane doesn’t know it yet, but he’s my muse—the artistic inspiration I was missing in my life.
I always start each new piece with a rough plan, but once my brush touches the canvas, my artistic intuition takes over.
I never know exactly what the final piece will look like.
It’s all part of the fun for me. Rigidity has always been my downfall, which is why my signature style is abstract and full of emotion.
I select a brush and dip it in the black paint container.
My movements are instinctive as I begin to sketch the outline of a figure on the canvas.
I paint for hours, losing myself in the process of creating—the flow state where nothing exists but me, the canvas, and the emotion driving it all. It’s exactly what I needed.
By what I’d imagine is late at night, I’ve captured Zane’s essence in the painting through a mix of dark and light, portraying his internal conflict, suppressed desire, and the way he fights against his own nature. I step back to admire my work, a small smile playing on my lips.
The creak of the door catches my attention and interrupts my thoughts. I guess my work shift is over. It’s not complete, but this will inevitably be one of my favorites, and I’m curious if he’ll be able to see himself in it.
Zane makes his way down the stairs, dressed in his uniform. He isn’t smiling, but that’s not unusual for him. He always tries to give off “bad boy” vibes with his short hair and strong jaw, but I can see right through him.
He holds up a to-go bag. “I brought you dinner. It’s tonight’s special from the restaurant.”
My stomach grumbles at the scent of garlic and herbs, but I don’t move to take it from him yet. “Thanks.” He doesn’t say anything else, so I decide to keep pressing, wanting to get him to open up, maybe even to admit that he enjoyed our fun together this morning. “So… how was work?”
“Fine,” he replies automatically.
I wipe my hands off on a paint cloth and walk over to him, chain dragging behind me as usual. “Just fine?”
“It was busy, so I made good money in tips.”
“Mmm,” I hum in acknowledgment. “Well, I made great progress today, too. But I’m not sure I can sell this one.” I motion to the painting, and his eyes lock on it.
“Why not? Wasn’t that the point of me hauling all this over here?”
“It was,” I agree. “But this piece turned out to be special. It’s you, Zane, in all your conflicted glory. You’re my muse.”
His eyes widen for a moment before he scrunches up his face, probably trying to figure out how it’s him. He’s holding the food bag in one hand still, but he’s rubbing his fingers against his palm with the other as he eyes it curiously.
“I paint abstract art, so you’re not going to actually see yourself, but to me, this is how I see you. A mess of emotions, conflict, and denial.”
“I’m not in denial about anything,” he huffs.
“Oh no?” I tease. Doesn’t he know by now just how well I can read him?
“No,” he dismisses quickly before blowing out another deep breath. “I mean, I guess I’m conflicted, but only because I still have to kill you, and I have your dog, which connects us.”
“When are you going to give up that ruse? Huh, Zane? We both know you’re not actually going to kill me, especially not before you know what my mouth feels like on your dick. Is that what you were picturing this morning while you were jerking off?”
His breath hitches, and I can see the war in his eyes.
He wants to deny it, to continue insisting he’ll end my life over this silly little mix-up, but he doesn’t want to.
And I think he might finally be admitting to himself just how much he wants me and all the kinky things I’ve been suggesting we could do together.
He should know he can’t keep up the act much longer, and there’s no need to when I would never turn him in.
Especially if my kidnapper is willing to play along with all my dark fantasies.
“Whatever. Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
Changing the subject. Interesting. He didn’t even deny his attraction to me this time.
“Such a thoughtful captor as always.” I wink and close the distance between us, taking the food bag out of his hand and setting it on the concrete floor. “But you know what would be even more thoughtful?”
He doesn’t answer, just watches me with wary blue eyes that are full of the conflict he’s denying.
He clearly isn’t going to respond, so I go on. “If you fucked my face with that hard cock you’re once again not hiding. Can’t even blame the audiobook this time. Clearly, it’s me. It’s okay. I’m hard thinking about you, too.”
Zane aggressively bites his lip. He’s either going to storm off or shove me down to my knees, and there’s only one option I want, so I keep taunting him.
“Think about how hot it’ll be to use my mouth, fucking your prized possession while I wear the collar you put on me.
Don’t you want that?” I tease, fingers trailing up the front of his shirt.
Once I reach his collarbone, I walk them back down, straight to his thick cock, and rest my hand there.
“Don’t you want to facefuck the man you own?
Should I call you Master instead of Daddy? ”
He sucks in a sharp breath as his Adam’s apple bobs aggressively in his throat. I’m finally getting through to him. It’s like that title was the final straw, and I can visibly see his resolve cracking as something in his glare shifts from longing to determination.
“What the fuck are you doing to me, you little psycho? Fine. Yes. Your fucked-up fantasies are the reason I’m hard. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and that fucking audiobook all day.” His voice is rough, strained with desire, and his eyes darken with hunger as they lock onto mine.
Knew it!
“Your permission to use me however you want is back on the table. Use me wisely.” I wink and give his dick, that’s still in the palm of my hand, a light little squeeze.
Zane’s control finally snaps. With a groan, he grabs my hair and pushes me down to my knees. The concrete is cold under the pants I’m wearing, which happen to be his, but my attention is solely on the man standing over me.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he growls, his free hand working to undo his belt and zipper.
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I reply, looking up at him through my lashes as I lick my lips. “But try me, Master.”
“If you want me to stop or slow down, say peaches. If you can’t speak, tap my leg twice.” I nod in acknowledgment, thrilled that he clearly has some knowledge of dominating someone safely, but there’s no fucking way I’m saying peaches.
He accepts my consent and shoves his pants and boxers down in one rough motion.
His hard cock springs free, thick and red, already leaking at the tip.
I saw him from across the basement this morning, but fuck, his cock is even more appealing from this point of view.
He guides it to my lips, pausing for just a moment as if giving me one last chance to back down.
Instead, I lean forward and swirl my tongue against the flushed head, tasting his salty precum beaded there.
“Fuuuck,” Zane hisses in pleasure immediately, fingers tightening in my hair until my scalp tingles.
I take him deeper, working my tongue along the sensitive underside of his shaft as I establish my flow, sucking him tightly. His hips begin to move, taking control, even though he thrusts gently at first.
I look up at him, giving him a slight nod and hum “mm-hmm” around his shaft as an invite for him to be more aggressive. He increases his pace as he loses himself to the pleasure of finally being in my mouth. I reach up to cup his balls, rolling them in my palm, and he rewards me with a deep moan.
“Look at me,” his gravelly voice commands, and I tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
His eyes are dark with desire, his lips parted.
His gaze bounces between mine and watching his cock disappear between my lips.
He looks feral, like a part of him is still surprised this is happening while another is focused on making sure it never stops.
He grabs my head with both hands now, setting a punishing pace as he fucks my throat with raw abandon.
It almost feels like his cock is pushing against the metal collar on my neck with every thrust—a constant reminder that I’m his, chained to this pole as he uses my mouth, uses me, for his pleasure.
“God, you look so fucking good like this, it’s unreal,” he groans, hips continuing to snap forward, his hands on my head. “Chained up, on your knees, taking my cock like the slutty psycho you are.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes from the force of his thrusts but also from his praise. This is everything I’ve ever craved, everything I imagined wanting but wasn’t sure how to find. I want more. I want him to ruin me.
“Do you even know what you do to me? How fucking tempting you are, the perfect little fucktoy.” Saliva dribbles down my chin, and his hands release my hair to smack my cheek twice.
The sharp pain sends a jolt of desire through me, and my cock twitches where it’s trapped in my pants.
“Swallow it all,” he commands, voice strained. “Don’t you dare waste a fucking drop.”
I nod, and he smacks my cheek one more time before gripping my face again with both hands.
His thrusts become erratic, and his cum floods my throat as he grunts.
Despite my promise to him, I don’t swallow it all, saving a small amount in my mouth, releasing him when he’s completely spent and pulling away with a satisfied groan. “Fucking hell, Pet.”
Oh my god, was that another nickname? I preen at the affection in his tone.
My dick is desperate, and as I’m catching my breath through my nose, I shove my pants down from where I’m still on my knees.
I spit into my hand, using the cum I saved from his orgasm to coat my cock.
My hand moves vigorously, no time for warm-ups or teasing, not when he just helped me live out one of my fantasies so spectacularly.
Zane’s eyes widen as he watches me, still clearing up from his post-orgasm bliss. He’s now fully alert when it clicks what I just did, and his gaze is locked on my hand working my shaft with his cum as lube. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he puts his pants back on.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “You really do love this, huh. So fucking desperate for me, you couldn’t even wait to get off on your own time, and you had to use my cum to do it.”
I moan, my head falling back as I stroke myself faster, letting the collar put tension against my throat.
His words light me on fire from the inside, and I try to play into the nicknames that finally broke through his resistance.
“You… you did this to me, Master. And it’s all your time anyway. You own me.”
“Fuck, that’s so hot.” He stalks back to me, standing over me, shadowing me with his body. He reaches down, and his thumb traces my jaw. “Show me how much you need me.”
Now that he’s finally given in, Zane seems to be as into this as I am, just like I knew he’d be.
Fuck, I want to make this good for him. I pump my fist, and the sound of his cum on my cock is filthy.
I’m so close already though, so wound up from his reaction, from having him in my mouth, the taste of him still on my tongue.
“Open your mouth,” he commands.
I obey, lips parting as I continue to stroke myself and stick my tongue out. He leans down slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he might kiss me. But instead, he spits directly into my mouth. It’s degrading and possessive and so fucking hot I can’t stand it.
“Swallow,” he orders.
I do, my throat working as his command pushes me over the edge and my orgasm slams into me. I cry out as my body tenses and releases, spilling all over my hand and onto the concrete floor beneath me. I slump forward, head resting against his leg as I try to catch my breath.
“Get up.” He reaches down to help me stand and yanks my pants back on. Then he pulls his keys out of his pocket. I don’t know what’s happening, but before I can think, he’s unlocking the chain from around the pole. “You’re a mess. And your dinner is definitely cold now.”