Chapter 2 Griffin
GRIFFIN
Ipalmed my cock surreptitiously through my pants as I watched him eat.
He gave in to me yet again as he crunched on what might as well have been dog food from the looks of it.
But I wouldn’t do that to him. I wouldn’t give him something that would taste terrible…
Not as long as he kept eating and behaving.
If he tried to stop, there would be consequences, but as long as he obeyed, there was no reason not to spoil him.
I’d have to make sure he got a good meal that evening to compensate, but this as a snack was just too hot to pass up.
I didn’t know when it had gotten to be so appealing — the idea of someone on all fours in front of me, harnessed and leashed, collared and submissive, but it wouldn’t leave my head. As much as I wanted Toby to like me — and I did — I couldn’t give up on my own needs.
There was always the dark voice whispering in the back of my mind that I’d bought him as surely as I’d bought that cereal, and he belonged to me.
And he’d accepted that. The knock at the door had scared me senseless, but he’d given in to me. He’d told me he’d give in to more, too, though I hadn’t wanted him to give up so much without wanting it. He had to want it soon.
He had to want me.
Even though he said he was straight, I’d always believed that if you found the right person, gender wouldn’t matter. I had to believe that now more than ever, now that I’d found this supposedly straight boy who was mine and mine alone.
I couldn’t let him go. He was mine as long as I wanted him, and the power of that was heady.
He glanced up at me, his eyes going to my hand. I didn’t move it. I kept it right where it was, an acknowledgment of the fact that his submission aroused me. He didn’t look long. He never did, not when things turned remotely sexual. But he’d have to learn.
He had to.
There was a part of me that worried he’d never accept it, and there was a larger part of me that worried I wouldn’t care.
I didn’t know how long I could go without stroking his smooth skin, without taking the ass bared so invitingly to me.
I wanted to taste his cock and see his mouth and throat working around mine.
I needed it with a blinding desperation that defied reason.
I needed him.
A lump formed in my throat at the idea that he might never come around. I didn’t want to be the beast to his beauty for all of our days. I wanted so much more…
It wasn’t right of me. I knew that, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept it.
I wasn’t going to cry, but I had to see his tears.
“Finish up,” I told him hoarsely.
He looked at me again, his expression guarded, but he nodded. He half-heartedly finished the cereal, going back to the bowl of milk and leaving it partially full.
I frowned. “I said finish.”
“I can’t get to all of it without drowning,” he retorted.
Was it bad to say that I was glad to see some of his spirit returning to him?
I didn’t want to break him. I just wanted him to bend a little — or a lot, but he could do it.
He had more to him than it had seemed at first. If he could snark off to me now, it meant there was more gristle there than I’d feared.
“Try it anyway,” I told him, just to see what he would do.
He gave me a look, but he went back to the milk without much gusto.
“Stop,” I said.
He stopped.
There was something heartbreaking in the way he followed my orders and commands. I didn’t want that. Well… I did. I wanted his obedience, but I didn’t want it this way.
I wanted him to want to give it to me. A 24/7 submissive, someone to tend to my needs, someone to adore me.
I wanted him to be something he’d never thought he’d be, but I wanted him to do it for me.
I reached down, picking up the bowls and setting them in the sink to clean up later. “Now, let’s go take care of your ass,” I said, unable to stop myself from reveling in the fear in his expression.
He was still there. He wasn’t broken.
“We’re gonna do it differently today though, okay, pup?”
Another flash of wariness.
I reached down, smoothing a hand along his shoulder blade. He didn’t flinch away from me like I would’ve expected, instead staying there and… enduring it.
It would get better. It had to.
“It won’t be bad,” I assured him.
He didn’t have to look at me for me to know he didn’t believe it. But I knew. I’d done research. I’d done plenty of research, before he’d come to me and after.
I led him from the kitchen to the basement door, and he balked instead of following me down the stairs. I frowned at him. “Come.”
He shook his head, shying away.
I leveled my gaze upon him, unwilling to accept that as an answer. “I said, come.”
“I don’t want to go back down there. I was good, wasn’t I? Master?” he pleaded, looking up at me and leveling those gorgeous eyes upon mine.
“You were. You are a good boy,” I told him, running my fingers through his hair.
“Then why do I have to go back down there?” The words drew up into a whine, and I slid my hand down his neck and to his back. “Please don’t make me go down there. I’ll… I’ll do anything you want.”
“You’ll do anything I want anyway,” I couldn’t help but say, only to sigh when he tensed beneath my touch. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah? Then how’d you mean it? Because it was pretty clear to me.”
There it was, that attitude again. I was torn between wanting to put him back in his place and being relieved it was still there.
“Shh,” I told him instead of reacting, touching the middle of his back, just beneath where the harness crossed his skin. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” he muttered.
“Enough,” I said, drawing my hand back, up along his back before releasing him. “You aren’t going to stay down there. I’m just going to give you your enema and bath.”
“Why couldn’t you have just told me that in the first place?”
Because I wanted to see you cry.
“I told you now,” I said, relentless. “Now let’s go.”
This time, he followed me down the stairs, awkwardly fumbling his way behind me. I gave him time to catch up, letting him take it at his own pace. I led him to the tub, gesturing to the small toilet next to it.
“This is what you get when you’re good,” I told him, as soothingly as I could manage. “All right?”
“Yeah,” he said, sniffling a little.
Fuck, I wanted to see him cry, but at the same time, I didn’t want to make him cry. Not from pain he didn’t welcome, not from despair. But I wanted to see tears fill those eyes and roll down his cheeks, wanted to see him arch under my touch, wanted him to want this as much as I did.
“It’s not going to hurt this time. Okay?”
At least, I hoped it wasn’t. It wasn’t like I’d tested these things out on myself.
“Okay,” he said in a small voice. He didn’t believe me, but that was okay. He’d see soon enough, or maybe I’d find out that I’d just been lying to him when I’d said it would be all right.
“Get in here,” I told him, pulling the side open on the grooming tub. “On your side, legs drawn up. Okay?”
He nodded, climbing into the tub and casting another glance at me before he settled onto his side like I’d told him.
I prepared the enema, slicking up the nozzle with lube before I murmured, “Relax.”
He didn’t, but that was hardly unexpected.
I pressed the nozzle into his ass, making sure it was seated well inside of him before unclipping the hose. A shiver ran through me at the sight of it, at the idea of that tight hole sucking the nozzle inside. What would it feel like around my cock?
“There we go,” I told him, running my hand along his stomach. “Just lie quietly for me.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he said, sounding a little stunned.
“No,” I said. “It shouldn’t.”
“But—” He at least had the sense not to finish that sentence.
As much as I wanted to see him cry, I wanted to see relief, too. I wanted to see this, to see him at my mercy and expecting pain only to get something else entirely. I wanted more, too.
We were both quiet as the bag slowly emptied into him, as the discomfort finally started to settle in, and he began to squirm.
I should’ve stopped it there, but I couldn’t help it.
I didn’t want this to be everything. I had to make him remember that I could bring peace and I could bring pleasure — but I could also bring pain.
Ordinarily, I’d have had him suffer at his own hands, knowing he was responsible for his own torment, but today, I wanted to be hands-on.
I roughly grabbed his ass cheeks, squeezing them and watching the way his hole clenched around the hard piece of plastic.
His belly was getting swollen, just like I liked it, and my hand slid down his body to touch it.
He whimpered, and that was when I saw it.
There were tears glinting in the corners of his eyes.
It sent a shock through me, an electric pulse that went directly to my cock, and I was instantly hardening in my pants. It was what I’d wanted to see, what I hadn’t been willing to do, but at the same time…
I’d pushed him here and he hadn’t argued.
He hadn’t protested.
He’d just taken it, and now he was quietly crying as the last of the bag drained out into his ass and left him utterly full.
I didn’t want to see him sobbing, didn’t want to utterly ruin this moment, but I reveled in those tears for a moment.
Then I finally, reluctantly told him, “Up. Let’s get you emptied out. ”
The look of relief on his features was made better by the tears trailing down his cheeks,
I helped him out of the tub, but he couldn’t hold it in when he stood. The humiliation on his face more than made up for the fact that he hadn’t been the one to slide the nozzle into his own ass. He couldn’t help it. His own body betrayed him, and he hated it.
I wondered in that moment if he hated me too.
I grabbed his arm and helped him to the toilet, sitting him down before more water could escape.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable, and shame made his cheeks redden all over again. He’d have to learn one day that this was simply inevitable, that I was going to be there through everything.
Everything.
Good and bad, happy and sad, and everything in between.
I held his life in my hands, and fuck, that thought never ceased to arouse me.
I waited for him to finish emptying his bowels before helping him back to his feet. “Let’s get you bathed,” I told him.
There was definite gratitude then, something I loved to see. He couldn’t help it any more than he could help his shame, and I didn’t want him to learn how.
“Such a good boy, Toby,” I told him softly as I guided him back into the tub and closed the door behind him.
He stiffened, but he didn’t argue — another sign of his growing acceptance of the situation. Good. It was good he was learning.
It meant I had a chance in hell of getting what I wanted so badly.