Strange Dreams #2
Galiva casts me a guarded look before she turns to Arlon. “The fire that smolders behind your eyes is nothing to the heat betwixt your thighs. Your wanton sex drips with molten need, an inferno I will douse with my river of seed.”
“Once more,” Arlon says as his thumb brushes her chin. Galiva shivers, her brown eyes glazing over as she recites it again, word for word.
Arlon grins in approval before he says, “Why don’t you start the spell, then? Olbric should be ready to meet you.”
Galiva’s eyelids flutter as she pulls her focus back from wherever Arlon just shot it. “Yes, sir,” she says, clearing her throat. She casts me one last look, and I watch her leave with a sinking feeling, because I think I know what’s coming next.
Arlon sinks back into his chair with a sigh. “Why didn’t you stop, Dom?”
“I swear, sir, I’m fi -”
“No. You’re not.”
The rest of my excuse dies in my throat. Arlon’s always been able to read me like an open book, and even if he doesn’t know all the reasons why, he can obviously sense that something is off.
Part of me wonders if that’s why he’s kept our collaring arrangement going, even when he’s been too busy to do much casting with me. Keeping me close just so he can keep an eye on me.
“Dom, I need you to speak freely,” he says, and that sinking feeling gets worse. “I want to understand what’s going on in your head, but I can’t if you don’t talk to me.”
I go to my knees beside his chair, in part so I don’t have to look him in the eye.
There’s still so much I haven’t told him about what happened at the Eastern Tower.
That the guilt he’s carrying is baseless because Diran barely even touched me, let alone raped me.
That I dream walked to Olbric without a caster, got myself out of the silver.
That I hurt Thaddius when I cast with him, didn’t even have a spell on me when I bested Demica.
That there’s something fucked about me, and it only seems to be getting worse.
I shake the thoughts away. I can’t say any of that, so instead I ask, “Whatever happened at the Black Burrows after we left?”
Arlon’s quiet for a moment, and I know that’s not what he expected me to say. He answers regardless. “We sent some of our own to help excavate the remaining veins of magiline. It was shut down once the gold vein the miners were originally excavating ran dry.”
I nod, though the unease of my dream lingers.
Arlon makes me look up as he taps a finger under my chin. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve... been dreaming about Diran a lot,” I admit. “Just got me wondering, is all.”
Arlon’s big hands cup my face. The two months since the Tower fell have aged him. The streaks of gray in his black hair and beard have grown, and the lines branching out from his eyes and mouth seem deeper. But that concerned look is still the same as his thumb strokes my cheek.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.
I shake my head, pulling out of his grip. “No, sir, it’s fine. They’re just dreams.”
Arlon sighs at the familiar answer. It’s the same one I’ve been giving him for weeks, but it feels like some part of him can sense all that I’m not telling him.
“I’m... sorry I didn’t stop,” I say. “I should have. Bad sleep must be getting to me.”
Arlon hums as he leans back in his chair. One boot settles between my kneeling legs, nudging my tightly locked cock. “You didn’t participate, but I assume you’d still like to be freed from this?”
My hands clench on my thighs, and I resist the urge to grind against his boot. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Then on your feet, sweet boy.”
I obey, and Arlon pulls me close by the hem of my shirt.
He lifts it off before he undoes my laces, pushing my trousers down.
I step out of them, eagerly kicking my slippers off as I do.
He grabs the silver bars pierced through my nipples in a commanding grip, making the sensitive skin throb.
He uses them to pull me down to straddle his waist, and when he releases them, I can’t stop a quiet moan.
I shiver as his rough hands stroke over my bare skin, trailing over my ass.
My face finds the crook of his neck as he grabs the base of the plug.
He tugs it gently, sending a frisson of pleasure up my spine as the widest part threatens to pull free.
His other hand reaches down to find my trapped cock, and my hips buck without my permission, as if trying to shake the punishing cage off to meet his hand.
“What do you think, Dom?” Arlon asks. “Do you think you can finish with this on?”
A groan breaks past my lips as he eases the thickest part of the plug out of me before pushing it back in.
I’ve orgasmed in a chastity cage before, but never in one quite so tight.
With him touching me, my cock struggles and fails to harden, pinched painfully by the restrictive cage. “I-I don’t know, sir.”
Arlon hums. “I want to see you try. Just like I want to see you ride this plug.”
I let out a shuddering moan before I lift myself up.
Arlon keeps a firm hold of the plug’s base, and I shiver as I pull off of it.
After wearing it for the better part of the morning, it feels like I’m missing something, and sinking back onto it is almost a relief as chills of pleasure race through me.
My hands brace against Arlon’s shoulders as I fall into a rhythm. It’s easy to obey, easy to focus on the task he’s given me, easy to let every worry go. I lose myself to the feeling, the drag and stretch, the fullness, even as my cock starts to leak through the slit of my cage.
“Please, sir,” I moan as I grind down on the plug. My legs start to shake, the pleasure a growing heat in my gut.
Arlon breaks my pace as he sinks the plug into me and taps the base. The focus sealed in the glass activates, making the toy grow inside of me before it starts to squirm like a living thing.
I arch at the sudden jolt of sensation, eyes flying wide. My hips rock, my rhythm completely thrown off as the toy strokes me, moving in a way I can’t predict. My leaking cock drips onto Arlon’s trousers, but he doesn’t seem to care as he watches me.