Chapter 23 #2
He nodded, satisfied, and then his hands were at my waistband, pulling at my pants. I lifted my hips to let him slide them down, then my underwear, leaving me exposed to the cool air of the room and his gaze.
I felt self-conscious suddenly, aware of every imperfection—the hip dips I hated, the freckle directly to the right of my cock, the small bush of hair that I hadn’t been able to groom since before my captivity.
But Tobias didn’t seem to see any of it.
Or maybe he did, but didn’t see them as imperfections.
After all, he was looking at me like I was indeed something precious, something he’d waited his whole life to study.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and the words were so simple, so sincere, that I felt my throat tighten. “Perfect.”
He started with his hands. Just touch, learning the shape of me—my hips, my thighs, the sensitive skin of my inner knees.
He was methodical, taking note of my reactions, finding out what made me gasp or flinch or go still.
When his fingers brushed the crease of my thigh, I sucked in a breath, and he paused, waiting.
“You don’t have to stop,” I whispered, face flaming. It was humiliating how needy I’d already grown, just from his caresses alone.
His hand moved higher, suddenly cupping my length, and I was already half-hard from anticipation, from the sheer intensity of his attention.
“Oh!” I gasped, a small gush of precum beading at my tip.
He stroked me slowly, then fast, with a softer touch, then a harder one, watching my face like he was memorizing every expression.
Within a minute I was squirming against the bed, panting. I hadn’t been touched since I’d been in Australia, and even then, my last hookup hadn’t been a fraction of whatever this was.
“You’re already so wet,” Tobias observed, rubbing his thumb over my crown.
“I—I—”
“Do you normally leak like this?”
I shook my head, my bottom lip caught between my teeth.
“This is just for me?” he asked lowly, dipping his thumbnail into my slit and making me buck at the sensation.
“Y-yes,” I gasped out.
He smiled at that, clearly pleased. “Good. I think I’d have to kill anyone who’d seen this.”
I whined as he squeezed my cock with one hand and used the other to reach across the comforter for the vibrator.
“Let’s see if you like this,” he hummed, letting me go for a second to apply a layer of lube to the toy.
My thighs tensed as I waited for him to press the vibrator to my cock, but Tobias only watched, poised to calibrate the experiment to whatever reaction I gave him.
There was a brief pause—a soft, apologetic brush of his knuckles over my thigh, as if he wanted to offer comfort before any transgression—and then the machine hummed to life, a muted but insistent whirr in the morning silence.
He tapped it against the inside of my knee first, as if to better acclimate me to the new sensation. I twitched, more ticklish than aroused, and he slowly traced a line up the meat of my thigh.
The sensation became more electric the closer he came to where I was still dripping for him.
By the time he pressed the vibrator against the base of my cock, I was clutching the sheets with both hands, breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
“Oh my god,” I blurted, unable to control the jerk of my hips.
Tobias made a small, fascinated sound in his throat.
He adjusted the pressure, then the angle, watching my face intently for feedback, as if my every twitch telegraphed a secret.
I didn’t know who was more embarrassed—him, for being so clinical about it, or me, for loving every second of his attention.
He moved the toy up, slow as melting wax, grazing the shaft, a quick pulse at the frenulum, a maddening ease at the crown that made me kick my heel into the bed.
I wanted to twist away from the stimulation, but also never wanted it to stop.
He found the spot—of course he did—and when the vibrator pressed there, my whole body locked up, spine arching off the comforter and a choked “fuck” spilling out of my mouth.
Tobias froze, like he’d crossed a tripwire. “Is that—do you want more?”
“Uh-huh,” I answered, too far gone for words.
He did it again, and the world shrank down to nothing but the tremble of the mattress beneath me and the buzzing of the toy. I felt it gathering, a seismic pressure at the base of my spine, and I knew I was seconds from coming, but then—Tobias pulled the vibrator away.
I yelped in protest, the sound desperate and pathetic. I scrabbled at his wrist, needing the sensation back, but Tobias set the toy aside and caught my hand in his, cradling it between his palms. He squeezed, hard, as if to ground me.
“Not yet,” he said, voice rougher than before. He sounded winded, and the heat in his cheeks made him look startled by his own boldness. “I want to try the plugs.”
I groaned, half in frustration, half in anticipation.
My cock throbbed, painfully hard and leaking onto my stomach.
I nodded, unable to trust my voice, and watched as he reached for the set of plugs and selected the smallest one.
He turned it over in his hands, almost reverent, like he was about to solve some ancient puzzle instead of slide a sex toy into my ass.
Tobias slicked the plug with lubricant and circled his finger around the rim, watching for my reaction every millimeter of the way.
I didn’t want to flinch, but I did—tense, then consciously let my hips go slack. Tobias caught the microexpression, and placed a steadying palm on my thigh. He waited until I met his eye.
“I’m going to be gentle,” he murmured.
He pressed, and I gasped at the chill of the lube, the initial pressure, but it turned quickly into a slow-burning stretch.
Tobias took his time, running his thumb in soothing circles over my hipbone, and when I relaxed a little, he pressed again.
It wasn’t so much pain as an invasive fullness, a sense that every nerve ending in my body had been summoned to a single point, pooling under Tobias’s careful hand.
I startled at how quickly the plug sank inside me, the feeling of the base against my skin signaling something irrevocable.
Tobias exhaled loudly; I could feel his breath ghosting over the back of my thigh as he knelt between my half-bent knees.
“Fuck,” I whimpered. “Tobias, I—”
“Tell me,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me what you feel.”
“Full,” I managed. “Full and… God, it’s good, it’s so good, don’t stop—”
He didn’t. He worked the plug deeper, adjusting the angle until he found my prostate, making my vision white out, and then he brought back the vibrator, holding it against my cock while he pressed against that spot inside again and again.
I was making sounds I didn’t recognize, broken and desperate, and Tobias was watching me with dark, hungry eyes.
The power imbalance was still there—I was still his captive, still wearing an ankle monitor—but in this moment, with his hands on me and his attention burning through me like sunlight, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Come for me,” he said, and it was almost a plea. “Cove, please—”
I did. The orgasm hit me like a wave, rolling through me from the inside out, and I cried out, arching off the bed, my hands fisting in the sheets. Tobias kept the vibrator pressed against me, drawing it out, milking every aftershock until I was wrung out and trembling and barely conscious.
“Nngh, e-enough,” I forced myself to mumble.
He turned off the device and withdrew the plug with careful gentleness, cleaning me with the soft cloth, murmuring things I couldn’t quite make out. Then he was lying beside me on the bed, not touching, just present, and I turned my head to look at him.
His face was flushed, his hair mussed, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looked wrecked, I realized, and he hadn’t even touched himself.
“You didn’t…” I gestured vaguely at his own arousal pressing against the confines of his pants.
“This was for you,” he said simply. “I told you. I don’t expect reciprocation.”
“But you’re—”
“I’m fine.” He smiled, small and genuine. “Better than fine. That was amazing. Thank you.”
I laughed, breathless and disbelieving. “Never have I ever been thanked for coming.”
He shared my grin, hesitated, then reached out, his hand hovering over mine. “May I?”
I nodded, and his fingers threaded through mine, warm and solid and real.
We lay like that for a long time. My body felt heavy and sated in a way it hadn’t in, well, ever, and despite everything, I felt… safe.
It was the most disturbing thought I’d had all day.
I didn’t pull away when he shifted closer, when his arm draped over my waist, when his breath warmed the back of my neck. I let myself be held, let myself be claimed, and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the distant, eternal song of the sea.
I wasn’t free. I knew that. But I wasn’t underground anymore, either, and as I drifted into dreams of blue water and weightless floating, I couldn’t decide which was more dangerous.
* * *
The days quickly settled into a pattern.
Mornings in the room, usually joined by Tobias for breakfast, afternoons working, always under the watchful eye of Ben or one of the thousand cameras around.
At first, the supervision was suffocating, but as the week wore on and I failed to make any escape attempts or throw myself into the intake pumps, the leash loosened.
Ben would leave me alone for ten, then twenty, then thirty minutes at a stretch, citing emails or conference calls or an urgent need for coffee.
I knew it was a test, and I resented being so easily read, but I also wanted the trust. I wanted to prove I was more than a flight risk or a broken thing to be managed.