21. Chapter 21
Justin
Cameron’s eyes are closed, but he’s far from asleep. Perhaps touching his ass was a bad idea. Now he’s hard again and unlikely to drop off until he comes. I know I wouldn’t. My own poor cock is weeping for attention, but it won’t be getting any until Cameron is satisfied. Maybe not even after that.
If he does fall asleep, I have more important things to do than jerk off. I can make myself come a thousand times after the police rescue me from here.
What he said about half of the force being on his friends’ payroll worries me. What if the person picking up the calls knows not to send anyone over? What if the people who come over end up being corrupt? What if it all blows up in my face and I end up not only stuck here but also punished?
Cameron’s been laid back so far, but I have no doubt casual cruelty lies just beneath his friendly surface, and I’m completely at his mercy. He could literally cut me to pieces if he wanted.
Maybe I should wait.
I mean, it’s not like I’m being horrifically tortured at the moment.
I’m unbearably aroused and my ass hurts from that stupid plug, but that can hardly be considered torture.
It’s not like I’m getting whipped or beaten or…
What do Cameron’s “clients” do with their enemies?
Shoot them in the kneecaps? Crucify them?
Ugh, I really shouldn’t have listened to so many true crime podcasts.
My point is, I’m better off waiting for a better chance, one that is guaranteed to get me out of here without Cameron interfering.
Maybe it’s a coward’s way, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
So far, Cameron has been easy to keep content.
As long as I’m willing to conform to his twisted worldview, he doesn’t hurt me, and I shouldn’t feel guilty about it anymore.
These are extreme circumstances. Anything I do to survive is right.
With that in mind, I let my finger sink into Cameron’s ass up to the first knuckle, just to get the feel of it. He seems to like it, and I have to admit I don’t exactly hate it either. It’s hard not to imagine my cock in place of my finger. It’s so damn tight and hot and…
Damn, I can’t say I’m not gay now, can I?
Whatever. Extreme circumstances. I have to remember that. Survival is the goal here, not upholding some arbitrary moral values. To stay alive, I need to keep Cameron happy.
I push my finger deeper and manage to find my target easily enough. Cameron’s moan confirms that it’s the right spot.
“Fuck, yeah,” he says, his ass clenching around my finger in a way that makes my cock dribble more pre-cum. “That feels so good.”
He’s not ashamed to show his enjoyment by moaning and moving against me as I enter him with another finger and massage his prostate.
As usual, his praise makes me feel oddly elated.
I’ve never fingered anyone’s ass before, so I doubt I’m as good at it as he makes it sound, but it’s still nice to feel appreciated.
Even if the praise is coming from someone like Cameron.
Damn, why do I keep forgetting he’s evil?
After a few more minutes, Cameron lifts himself up on his elbows and grins at me. “You keep exceeding my expectations, pet. I think you definitely deserve your reward.” He gets up, still hard, and motions for me to take his place. I suppress a sigh. So much for getting him off so he’d fall asleep.
Lying on my stomach is pure torture, so I’m grateful when Cameron tells me to roll over. The movement shifts the plug inside me again. It’s still vibrating softly against my prostate, but the pain from the stretch is greater than the pleasure. I just want it out.
Thankfully, Cameron grants me my unspoken wish, easing the plug out and replacing it with his fingers. I’m so sensitive I try to move away, but he holds me in place. “Don’t make me restrain you,” he warns.
I almost want him to. Then I wouldn’t have to think so hard about not moving when all I want is to grab my cock and jerk myself off until I pass out.
“Please, Sir, I can’t hold on anymore.”
“Oh, you’ll be surprised.”
When he touches me again, I push him away with my foot. It’s more of a kick, really, and I freeze when I realize what I’ve done.
Oh no.
My mind speeds up along with my breathing, and I start panicking. I was doing such a good job keeping him happy, but I screwed up now. He must be pissed. He said he wouldn’t hurt me except when punishing me, and kicking him definitely warrants a punishment, doesn’t it?
I start to scramble off the table, even though there’s nowhere for me to go, but Cameron is quick to grab my ankle.
This time, my kick is intentional, a desperate attempt to get away.
I stand no chance of hurting Cameron, but he does grunt when my heel connects with his chest. What he doesn’t do is let go of me, no matter how hard I struggle.
Before I realize what’s happening, he’s on the table, pinning me down with his weight.
“Stop.”
He doesn’t even yell at me. Just that one word, said in a commanding tone, is enough to get through the haze of my panic.
I’m no longer in fight or flight mode but in a complete freeze instead, like a computer when it does whatever it is that computers do when they freeze.
Or like a freaking opossum playing dead so that the predator would leave it alone.
Except my predator is too smart to fall for it.
“Breathe, Justin,” he tells me, and I realize I forgot to do that. Breathing just didn’t seem important when I was about to get hurt.
Am I about to get hurt? Cameron doesn’t look or sound angry. His eyebrows are pinched, but that might be because his cock is rubbing against mine. When he dips his head to kiss my neck, I don’t push him away. I tilt my head so that he has more space.
“There you go. Keep breathing.”
He’s being nice again, and I hate that it pushes tears into my eyes. No one has ever been so damn nice to me before when I fucked up, not even my own family. Especially not my own family, and the realization hurts more than my abused ass.
Cameron kisses my cheek, his tongue darting out to lick my tears. I don’t even find that weird anymore. It’s just what he does, and really, where’s the harm in it?
“I love it when you cry,” he whispers, “but I’d also like it if you smiled more.”
Right. I’m supposed to be happy to be his sex slave. I attempt a smile, but I doubt it’s very convincing. All I want is to cry some more. I also want Cameron to hold me, but I don’t let myself think about that.
“I’m sorry I kicked you.”
Cameron shrugs. “Instinct. It’s okay. But I will tie you down. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Right, because the restraints are for my benefit, not so that my captor can have his way with me without me fighting back. Come to think of it, though, they might help. At least I won’t have a choice then.
I don’t fight when he clips the cuffs on my wrists and ankles to the sides of the table. I have some wriggle room, but not enough to get away from whatever Cameron has planned for me, not unless I can break the cuffs.
I’ve already tried that. The inside of the cuffs is lined with something soft so they don’t cut into my skin, but the outside is solid metal, locked in place. Without a key, I don’t stand a chance at removing them.
I’ve got my panic mostly under control when Cameron finishes restraining me. It really does help. Whatever happens now is not in my hands anymore. I can’t stop my captor from doing what he wants with me, and if I happen to enjoy it? That’s just survival.
“Good boy,” Cameron says as he strokes my cock. My erection is back in full force, and I thrust into his fist without thinking. He smacks my thigh and tuts. “Patience.”
Patience? Easy for him to say. He’s not the one who’s been edged by that damned vibrating plug for eternity.
Cameron chuckles. “Your scowl is adorable, pet, but right now I’d prefer a different expression.
” He slips two fingers back inside me and my mind blanks.
He strokes my prostate, and I let out an embarrassing sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
It’s too much and not enough at once. I would have kicked Cameron again if I could, but tied as I am, I just squirm in my restraints and beg incoherently as he fingerfucks me.
He adds another finger at some point, or maybe two.
I can’t tell, too overwhelmed by the tension that’s gathering in my body.
My entire body, not just in my balls and the base of my spine like when I stroke my cock.
My poor, neglected cock which Cameron hasn’t touched even once. How can I feel so close to an orgasm?
“Please, please, I can’t. Please let me come,” I beg, trying to move away from Cameron’s fingers and thrust against them at once. “Please, touch my cock. I need you to touch my cock.” I yank on the restraints, desperate to touch myself, but they don’t give.
Unsurprisingly, my evil captor ignores my pleading. “You don’t need your cock touched to come. Just relax and let it happen.”
Relax? Did the bastard just tell me to relax? Is he insane? How am I supposed to relax when I’m wired to explode and there’s no relief in sight? Next time he puts his stupid cock into my mouth, I’ll bite it off. We’ll see how he relaxes after that.
“I hate you,” I find myself saying.
Cameron just laughs. “No, you don’t. You want to please me. You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?”
“No!”
“Liar. Maybe I should just leave you like this overnight.”
“No, please!” I’d go insane, and I’m not even exaggerating. Well, maybe a little. “I do like it when you call me a good boy.” I push away the wave of self-loathing that follows the admission. I’m telling my captor what he wants to hear. That’s all. “I like making you happy, but please…”
“That’s good to hear. You’re allowed to come. And no, I’m not going to touch your cock,” he adds before I can even beg him for it. “You can come like this. Just let go.”
“I… I can’t. I don’t…” Oh, but I can, can’t I? I can feel the orgasm gathering, just outside of my reach, but that’s because I’ve been pushing it away, afraid of its intensity, of what Cameron making me come like this would mean.
What part of myself am I going to lose this time? How many do I have left?
I try to hold on to whatever is left of the person who woke up yesterday morning. He already feels so far away. If I let this happen, will I lose him forever?
Do I even have a choice?
“No,” I answer myself with a whimper, even as the orgasm takes hold of me.
Stars explode behind my tightly shut eyelids and I clamp down on Cameron’s fingers, my inner walls pulsating wildly.
Instead of sharp spurts, a steady stream of cum spills out of my cock, hot against my stomach.
Tremors run through my entire body, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
Intense to the point of tears, and so encompassing I have trouble thinking straight.
So much so that the next thing I know, I’m on Cameron’s lap and we’re cuddling on the couch.
“Such a good pet,” he whispers into my hair. “Thank you for giving yourself over to me.”
Tears silently stream down my face because that's what I did, didn't I? I gave up, and now he owns another piece of me.
How long can I keep going like this?