23. Chapter 23
Justin
Life sucks.
I never really understood the theory of relativity, but I get it now. Time isn’t constant and it doesn’t always flow at the same speed.
I mean, it should have been obvious. Have you ever tried to hold a plank for a minute?
That minute is definitely longer than a regular minute when you’re just watching TV or lazing around.
Even better, have you ever been locked in a tiny cage for days on end with absolutely nothing to entertain yourself with?
That shit teaches you all about the relativity of time and how hours can feel like days and days like years.
I can’t reach any of the walls, so I can’t carve marks to count the days, but I’ve carefully picked a few loose threads from the blanket and I’m tying them to the bottom of one steel bar. Tonight, I’ll add thread number ten.
I’ve been here for ten days, and I’ve made absolutely no progress toward escape. The only thing that’s progressing here is my insanity, because I’m so bored that I actually look forward to Cameron’s daily visits. Isn’t that crazy?
It’s wrong, I know that. I know what it means when someone starts missing the person who locked them away, but what I know and what I feel are two very different things, and what I feel wins every time.
Especially in the past few days, when I’ve felt myself slowly slipping, my mind too tired to come up with rational thoughts.
It’s ridiculous how I feel tired all the time when I’m not doing anything but sleep and sit around in the cage.
Sure, Cameron makes me work for my rewards, mostly on my knees with his cock in my mouth, but he’s only around for a few hours every day, and the rest of the time, all I do is sleep and stare at the walls.
I wonder if Cameron watches me during the day. He said there are cameras, and if I ever try to masturbate when he’s away, he’ll know and I won’t like the punishment.
At first, I found the idea of jerking off in such a terrible situation ridiculous, but the longer I sit in the cage, longing for something to do, the more appealing it becomes.
But I’m not an idiot, and I certainly don’t want Cameron angry with me, so I keep my hands off myself even when my cock gets hard, which happens a little too often to my taste.
My head shoots up, excitement bubbling in my chest when the door finally opens. He’s back! I can’t even be ashamed of that reaction, because I’m so freaking happy at being able to talk to someone.
My smile is one hundred percent genuine as I greet him. “Welcome back, Sir. Did you have a good day at work?”
I found out early on that Cameron loves talking about his job, and I made it a habit to always ask him about it.
Keeping my captor happy needs to be my priority, right?
It’s not at all about the way Cameron’s eyes always light up when he talks about art, how he wildly gestures around when he gets passionate about something, or how he gets almost nervous when he shows me his designs.
As if it would hurt him if I didn’t like them.
Which is impossible, because they’re amazing.
I know I should hate him. He had me kidnapped and is keeping me locked down here, but aside from the incredible boredom, I don’t have much to complain about.
I have a roof over my head, plenty of food, and the only way he regularly tortures me is by denying me orgasms until I’m a mindless, begging mess.
These things shouldn’t matter. They shouldn’t erase what he did and keeps doing to me, but I can’t help myself.
I hate myself for a lot of things, but I can’t hate Cameron.
“I hate people,” Cameron huffs as he opens the cage.
“No, you don’t.” I sway a little as I straighten up, my legs shaky and too weak to carry me.
Snaking an arm around me, Cameron steadies me, and sighs into my hair.
“I hate some people. This entitled, ungrateful Ventresca brat especially. I mean, I just warned him that the cops know about his upcoming shipment, and does he thank me for the information? No. He said, ‘I hope you kept your mouth shut.’ Stupid fucker. I never talk!”
I run a hand down Cameron’s chest in a soothing gesture. I don’t think he’d take his anger out on me, but I still feel uneasy when he’s upset. “You could tattoo a huge dick on him.”
Cameron snorts, his muscles losing a little of their tension. “That’s a brilliant idea. It wouldn’t help my career, but it would certainly make me feel better.” He grins rakishly. “You know what else would make me feel better?”
I chuckle, because he’s so silly sometimes, and dutifully tilt my head up for a kiss.
It’s still a novelty to kiss a man, to feel the scrape of stubble and the heavier press of his lips, but I don’t let myself think about it too much.
Thinking reveals all of my failures and shortcomings, and it makes me hate myself even more. I much prefer getting lost in the kiss.
“Did that make you feel better, Sir?” I ask when we pull back for air, my lips swollen from the kiss.
“Oh yes,” Cameron purrs. “But there’s something that would feel even better.”
He kisses me as he pushes me toward the spanking bench. I’ve grown quite familiar with that piece of furniture, and I’m not nervous as I climb onto it and take the position. It’s anticipation, not fear, that makes me shiver as Cameron straps me down.
For the past few days, he hasn’t restrained me while playing with my ass.
For him to do it now must mean that he has something special planned.
I should be scared, but just like I can’t hate Cameron, I can’t really be afraid of him either.
He promised he wouldn’t hurt me, and so far, he has never strayed from that promise.
I’m not saying I’m never in pain during our time together, but he always makes the reward worth it, and honestly, his praise and pride in me are the biggest rewards.
I’m fucked up, I know, but I’m surviving.
I don’t tense up when lubed fingers slip into my body.
I’m too used to that by now. Cameron brushes over my prostate as he stretches me, and I chase those bits of pleasure even though I know I won’t be allowed to come for a long time.
My mind is pleasantly hazy, which is why it takes a while for Cameron’s next words to register.
When they do, it’s like a bucket of cold water dumped on me.
“God, I’m so excited to finally bury myself inside this tight little hole.”
Bury himself inside… Oh my god. He wants to fuck me.
My heart thumps painfully against my rib cage like it’s trying to escape, and I can’t seem to draw in a single breath. Cameron is going to fuck me.
It shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve been waiting for it to happen ever since I woke up down here, but then days went by and it didn’t, so I kind of let it slip my mind.
Now it’s here, and I’m not ready. I don’t know how to deal with it.
Hell, I don’t even know why I’m freaking out right now.
Cameron has fucked me with his fingers and various toys every single day.
It’s not like having a cock in my ass could be that different. Except it feels different.
It’s not just the somewhat silly conviction that getting fucked is the final act that will irreversibly turn me gay.
The thing that terrifies me the most is that I will enjoy it.
That by taking me that way, Cameron will steal the last piece of me I still cling to.
The last bit of Justin Palmer will disappear, and all that will be left behind is Cameron’s pet who patiently waits for his Master in his cage all day and scrambles to obey his commands.
Not that I haven’t been doing that already, but I’ve always kept a piece of myself separate from all this madness, and now I’ll lose that too.
“Please, don’t do this,” I beg, my heart now racing so fast I feel like it’s going to trip over itself and stop forever. “I don’t want it.” And that’s definitely not a lie.
“Aww, you don’t want my cock? How disappointing, little pet. It’s a good thing it’s not up to you then, is it?”
“No…” His fingers are still inside of me, making my body sing, and a part of me feels truly bad for disappointing him, but my fear is too great to focus on that.
“Please, Sir. Cameron. You said you wouldn’t hurt me.
Please don’t do this to me. I won’t survive it.
” It sounds like an exaggeration, but deep down I know it’s not.
If he takes away that last part of me, I’ll disappear.
He crouches in front of me, his thumb lovingly swiping away my tears. He looks at me with such compassion it’s impossible to connect this Cameron to the person who’s about to do something horrible to me.
“Don’t be silly, pet. I’d never risk hurting you.
You’re precious, and I’ll take good care of you.
I know you’re scared, but that’s just because it’s something new we haven’t done yet.
You’ll love it, and you’ll realize you had nothing to worry about.
” The worst thing? He sounds absolutely convinced of his truth, like he knows me better than I know myself.
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about!” I yank at the restraints, but as always, they hold. “I can’t. Please don’t do this to me.”
Cameron’s not listening. “Ssh,” he soothes. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
Ignoring my cries, he goes back to prepping me and stroking my rapidly softening cock.
For once, I don't find any pleasure in his ministrations.
I keep repeating, “I don't want this,” like a mantra.
Not because it will make him stop, but because I need to say it.
I need to voice it out loud, to remind myself that no matter how sweet Cameron is and how much I might enjoy the act, I didn't agree to this.
This is not consensual. It's rape, plain and simple, regardless of how my body reacts.