Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
ev
“Uncomfortable?”
I frowned. I wasn’t uncomfortable per se.
I just couldn’t seem to figure out a position that didn’t remind me how thoroughly his fist had fucked me less than…
an hour ago? No idea. If Erika didn’t kill me for fumbling—a few—moments of the workshop, she might for hoarding this room for as long as I was without having given her a heads-up.
I supposed Eli might have. They saw me coming here and switching the door hanger.
“No,” I mumbled, “just sore.”
“Good sore or bad sore?”
Huh. It was cute, the way he tensed up with worry right away.
He didn’t take his thumb pad from where it had been casually pressing against my rim, though.
Probably the reason I couldn’t find a position that didn’t keep me hyperaware of my ass and the gaping hole he’d admired for way past what was considered polite, while bemoaning the fact that we couldn’t have our phones up here.
“Good.” I licked my lips. I was parched, but I didn’t want to move, and I didn’t want him to stop holding me, either. It wasn’t urgent. “You were perfect.”
“Yeah?” Santos tilted his head to the side. His light eyes glinted while I’d bet he was pretending his cheeks weren’t flushed with the softest pink hue. “I can take constructive criticism, you know?”
“You’re always perfect for me,” I rebutted.
“Uh-huh.”
I frowned. I had a feeling that he was just teasing me, and I was falling for it, but he was perfect, dammit.
Like, before, I didn’t once have to tell him he was going too hard, or too soft, or too anything.
He knew when I needed him softer and sweeter and filling me with promises of forever and safety, and when I needed him harder and making me cry out and feel too close to passing out.
“You did so good today.”
I snorted.
Maybe he didn’t quite know when I was not in the right headspace to receive compliments for the sake of it.
“I did all right.”
“You did,” he insisted. “It’s not your fault there was a shitty person in the audience.”
“I don’t think they were shitty,” I said.
I meant it. I had thoughts on how I could’ve expressed myself clearer and brought up better points, but I didn’t have a problem with them.
“It’s important to have difficult conversations, and you have no idea how many creeps are out there when you try to find people into feminization. ”
Santos hummed. It didn’t sound like the sort of humming he made when he was half asleep or agreeing with something. I wasn’t sure I had the words to explain it better, even now, when it was just the two of us.
My mouth started feeling dry with the anxiety that came with that worry, but Santos didn’t add anything. He just squeezed me to his side.
“Do you want to come?”
I shivered. “Not without the cage.”
I wanted to stay in the headspace that came with muted orgasms and with being trapped and at his mercy.
I appreciated that he always asked, that he’d always check in, and it was a truth the two of us knew and owned, but I just wanted to bask in the haze and the slight discomfort and blurriness that came with it.
“Y’know, I found this guy’s online journal thing. He talks about his journey with chastity and with his Mistress. I think he’s in a TPE dynamic like how you told me Erika and Eli are.”
I nodded. “Is it a guy with a golden septum and a tattoo of a collar on his thigh?”
Santos propped himself up on one elbow. It dislodged me from him and took his thumb off my ass, which was disorienting. He was hovering over me one second later, though, a smirk taking over his features.
“You follow him?”
“Yeah.” I blushed. Santos’s blonde curls fell over his face, adding shadows and an extra layer of nuance to every line and soft wrinkle. “I’m subscribed to their channel, too. They uploaded a new video last night. It was hot.”
Santos cocked his head to the side. “Is that what you were doing when you took forever in the bathroom?”
“Maybe?”
Fuck. I loved talking about shit with him, but I also hated what it turned me into. A shy, bubbling mess who didn’t know what to do with himself. It didn’t help when he tilted my chin up and forced me to hold his gaze as if I wasn’t scrambling to find a way out of it.
“Can we make it a rule that we watch stuff like that together?”
I resembled one of those bobblehead toys with how fast I started nodding.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I’m into that.”
Santos grinned. “Good.”
I needed to think, to keep the conversation from derailing into territory that I was still too sore to embark on.
“W-what about the journal, though?”
“Right.” His gaze flicked down to my cage, the one I’d have to clean up before we left the club.
“It was an old entry, I think, but he talked about how when his Mistress punished him, one of the things that entailed was that he lost all access to his dick. His Mistress would take off the cage, make him come, and clean him up properly while he was asleep, so he wouldn’t even get to touch anything. ”
“That one was hot, yeah.”
I wasn’t going to say that I’d read all his entries at least five times.
Was he one of the main reasons I’d gotten so into chastity? Yeah. It wasn’t like I was that obsessed. I didn’t remember all of their content. A few entries had stuck more with me than others, though, and that had been one of them.
“Would you be into that?”
“What?”
I was holding my breath before I finished asking. I had heard perfectly, but surely he wasn’t implying what I thought he was implying.
“If I was in charge of your cage.”
“Like my key holder?”
See, that would make more sense. It was a more rational ask; it wouldn’t send my heart galloping, and it would prove that I’d been right asking for clarification before jumping ahead.
“Well, yeah, but would you be into that? Me taking it off and milking you dry and cleaning you up and then putting it back on while you’re asleep.”
Or not.
“I’m actually not sure that entry is one hundred percent realistic,” I admitted. “I mean, the staying asleep through it all has to be fantasy to a degree, but…yeah. I’d be really into that.”
It was one of my core fantasies revolving around chastity.
My heart beat faster. I was waiting for Santos to freak out, to tell me it was too much or we were moving too fast, but he just looked steadily at me. The way he always did. The way I relied on him to look, even though that was probably a thought to examine and deconstruct later.
“You’re one hella deep sleeper,” he murmured. “If it’s possible for anyone, it will be on you.”
I was going to be so pent up, it was definitely not going to be possible for the first few weeks of us trying this.
I didn’t say it out loud, though. Santos looked playful and excited about it, and I wouldn’t be the one to take away this itch to experiment he was going through—not when I was more than a little familiar with it myself.
“Suit yourself,” I said instead.
It was the right thing. Santos pulled me close, and I forgot all about finding the right position or all the time we were taking up in the room.
Sergio was going to have so much to say when I saw him next.
That was if he wasn’t waiting me out by the bar or in the Littles room.
They hadn’t had a playdate for the age players in a while now.
It was usually a once-a-month event, but something or other happened last week, and they hadn’t found a good time for everyone yet.
For now, I’d take advantage of the room. Of Santos sharing more of his fantasies and other entries he’d read and all the ways he wanted to fuck me. Of the haze that settled in until he had to shake me before I fell asleep for real. That, no one would let me hear the end of for sure.