18. Chapter 18
Justin
I frown in confusion when Cameron disappears from my field of vision. He wanted a kiss, didn’t he? And like the stupid whore I am, I immediately agreed. When he stood up, I thought he’d make me “kiss” his cock again, but how am I supposed to do that when he’s somewhere behind me?
Of course, I shouldn’t want to do that, but I just don’t have the energy for self-flagellation right now. I’ll get to that later, when I’m alone and locked up in that damned cage. Right now, I just want to stop thinking. Let someone else make all the choices.
And if that plays straight into Cameron’s cards? Who cares?
At least he won’t spank me anymore because damn, my ass hurts! I should have lasted longer before telling him my shameful secrets, but like my father always said, I’m a wuss. It’s no wonder I chose the path of least resistance.
I’m not given more time to ponder my inadequacy because, just then, something wet touches my hole. Not lubed up fingers, though. Something like… a tongue?!
“What are you doing?!” I blurt out, completely forgetting about being polite and respectful. “Wait, you can’t do that. That’s-that’s not right. No, stop!”
Cameron chuckles, his breath sending cold tingles against my rim, which is now wet with saliva. Oh my god. Do people actually do this outside of porn?!
“You wanted a kiss,” he says. “So I’m kissing you.”
“I meant on my mouth!” Or on his cock, which I don’t say out loud, because I don’t want to sound like I’m offering him a blowjob. Which I’m definitely not. “You can’t just… That’s so wrong.”
His tongue circles my hole again, and I have to bite back a moan. “Does it feel wrong?” Cameron teases, no doubt aware how much I’m enjoying this. My cock is right in front of him, after all, its excitement quite visible.
I want to say that, yes, it does feel wrong, but I don’t want to get punished for lying again, so I evade the question. “Please, stop. You can’t… I can’t do this.” I can’t enjoy having someone’s freaking tongue in my ass. Someone who’s holding me captive, nonetheless.
I’m restrained in this humiliating position, so when Cameron spears my ass with his tongue, I can’t escape him, nor can I move against him to make him go deeper.
I don’t want to think about what my choice would be if I weren’t tied up.
It’s a good thing that I don’t have one, and that all I can do is cry and chant, “Stop, please stop.” Even if I’m not sure I truly want him to stop.
It feels pleasurable, yes, but it’s also like he’s tearing off another part of my soul, claiming more of me for himself. I’m scared of what will be left of me once he’s done.
“I don’t want this,” I say between moans I can’t control. It earns me a sharp smack on my sore ass, because that’s a lie, isn’t it? At least part of me craves what he’s doing. Saying no is just one last way I have to preserve my fragile sanity.
Why does it even feel good? It makes no sense.
I feel queasy imagining putting my tongue on Cameron’s ass, on anyone’s ass, really.
It makes my stomach twist in knots, because, ew?
That makes me feel bad too, because why should I be enjoying an act when I’m not ready to reciprocate, and dear lord, am I trying to talk myself into wanting to lick Cameron’s ass?
I’m so fucking broken there aren’t even words for it.
I yelp when Cameron finally stops his sensual assault and nips at my cheek. He soothes the bite with a kiss, then freaks me out by murmuring, “One day I’m going to mark every inch of you.”
I shudder, but I’m not given time to think about it too deeply.
He drizzles cold lube down my crack, and then his fingers are there, rubbing and teasing.
One, no, two, slip in easily. I feel myself stretch around them, but there’s no pain or even a burn accompanying that sensation.
I almost wish there was. If it hurt, I’d have an easier time remembering that this is all against my will.
Especially when Cameron finds my prostate and starts stroking it.
It’s still an impossibly strange feeling, too much and not enough at once, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning and begging him to touch my cock. He never does. It’s right there, hard and leaking, but my cruel captor completely ignores it.
Cameron adds another finger, and that does burn, but that feeling is lost to the overwhelming pleasure from him thrusting against my prostate over and over.
Could I come like this? Without him ever touching my cock?
I’ve seen it in porn, but I didn’t think it was real. I’m starting to think I was wrong.
When I can’t take it any longer, I swallow my pride and give in to my baser instinct. “Please, Sir, let me come.” Another piece of me chips away with those words. The fresh wave of humiliation makes me cringe, but I push that feeling away. It won’t do me any good right now.
“Not yet.”
I groan in dismay as Cameron withdraws his fingers.
Yes, I know I didn’t want them in me in the first place, but now that he’s got me all worked up, he’s going to stop?
How fair is that? “Please, Sir.” Is he still punishing me for lying earlier?
“I’ll be good.” I’ll be whatever he wants if he just lets me come.
“I know you will be,” Cameron says soothingly. “And I might let you come later, but not just yet. Now, relax and bear down.”
Something pushes against my rim. It’s firm, round, and quite girthy, and at first, I freak out that it’s Cameron’s cock.
He promised he wouldn’t fuck me tonight, didn’t he? I might enjoy his fingers, but I still don’t want to be fucked, and that’s not a lie.
Cameron smacks my ass. “I said relax, or this will hurt.”
“Please don’t.”
Since I know my plea will do nothing, I do my best to relax, even terrified as I am.
In the next moment, the widest part of the intruding object passes through my tight ring of muscle, its flared base sitting snug between my cheeks.
A plug? A big one, enough to make the stretch uncomfortable, but at least it’s not a cock. Maybe Cameron will keep his promise.
“There you go,” Cameron says. “That should distract you while we do other things. Because you promised me that massage, but…” He moves in front of me and gestures at the massive bulge straining the fabric of his pants.
“As you can see, I can hardly lie on my stomach now. And since you don’t want me to take care of my problem using your other hole, I’ll have to make use of your mouth. ”
I groan in dismay. Not because I have to suck his cock, but because I’m so close that the throbbing in my cock borders on painful.
At least he’s still keeping his promise not to fuck my ass. It feels almost as if he’s letting me make the choice, even if both options are terrible.
“Yes, Sir,” I say because he seems to expect an answer. As if he cared for my consent. Or maybe he’s worried I’ll bite him? I could, of course, but how stupid would that be?
“Good boy.”
God, I hate how much those stupid words affect me. If I were a dog, I’d probably be wagging my fucking tail and jumping to lick Cameron’s face. I’m the epitome of disgusting.
When he says, “Open up,” I obey without offering even token resistance, as if I'm actually excited to suck him off.
I've only been here for a day, and I already feel like I'm losing myself.
I want to hate myself, hate Cameron, hate his cock sliding over my tongue, but then the plug in my ass starts vibrating and I'm truly lost.