43. Chapter 43
Justin
If I never have to attend a mafia meeting again, it’ll still be too soon.
I’m almost grateful for my burning asshole and for the metal device squeezing my balls so tight they feel like they’re about to burst free from my sack.
At least it gave me something to focus on as Cameron talked to Rossi, other than worrying about the outcome of their meeting.
What would happen to me if it went badly? If Rossi decided to kill Cameron, would I end up in a place like this? Tortured to death while all my killer had to do was pay an extra fee for the club owner to disappear my body?
Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about that anymore.
Rossi shook Cameron’s hand. Judging by Cameron’s immediate relief, it was what he hoped for.
There were no kisses like in the Godfather, but maybe that movie is too outdated for modern mobsters.
Like Cameron said, we won. Now, if only he’d release my balls and take me out of here.
Or made me come. I’d take either, but something tells me we’re not going home yet.
Cameron runs his hand through my hair. It has grown out longer than I usually wear it, but he seems to like it. “You were very good for me. Quiet and obedient, the perfect little pet.”
If my poor balls weren’t throbbing with pain, I’d be bouncing with happiness. As it stands, I manage a teary smile. “Thank you, Sir. Please, could you…”
“Ah, are you in pain?” Cameron’s grin doesn’t show a shred of compassion.
He’s enjoying my suffering the way Rossi feasted on his nervousness earlier.
He’s taking his helplessness out on me, reasserting his dominance in a way he couldn’t with the powerful criminal.
It’s scary, yet satisfying. This is what I’m here for.
“I was just about to reward you,” Cameron teases, “but if you’d rather cut our play time short…”
“No! I would like a reward, please.” I just really hope the reward means being allowed to come, because despite the pain, discomfort, fear, and humiliation, I’m still as hard as a rock.
Cameron laughs. “We’ll see. First, show me those pretty little balls of yours. I want to see what color they are.”
Probably purple, because they feel like they’re about to fall off.
I carefully shuffle around until my back is to Cameron, wincing when the metal limbs of the device move and tug painfully on my sack.
My new position puts me facing the bar, and my heart skips a beat when I see how many people are watching me squirm on the floor.
They all saw my asshole, stretched wide by the plug, and now they all get to watch my cock drip pre-cum like I’m a horny slut who gets off being publicly humiliated.
“Eyes down, pet. You’re being disrespectful. Bend over.”
I quickly avert my eyes. The last thing I want is to earn a punishment in this place. I probably wouldn’t survive it.
It’s a relief, both not having to look at our audience and being allowed to bend forward. It considerably eases the pressure on my balls and gives my muscles a break.
“Well, that’s a pretty color.”
I cry out. Even a gentle touch on my overly sensitive balls is like torture.
When Cameron squeezes them, my vision swims, and I’m grateful for already being on the floor.
I bite back a protest. This doesn’t feel like a reward, but mouthing off to my Master in front of other people would be a stupid move.
It doesn’t mean I can’t beg, though. “Please, Sir. You promised.”
“I did, didn’t I? Very well.”
The teasing touch disappears from my poor balls. There’s a poignant pause during which I’m braced for everything from getting my burning cock stroked to having my balls spanked. Then the plug in my ass starts vibrating. I groan and let my forehead hit the tile.
This is not a reward. It’s just more torture.
The vibrations aren’t enough to make me come, just to make me squirm, which makes everything even worse.
They also bring my attention back to the burning lube in my asshole.
I’ve started getting used to the sensation, and it lost its power as time went on, but now the vibrations are bringing it back in full force.
“God. Fuck. Please.” I moan against the floor, the audience all but forgotten. So what if they think I’m a horny slut? It’s true, anyway.
Cameron laughs and slaps my ass. Not my balls, thank fuck, but it still hurts. “You don’t like your reward, pet?”
“I do, I do, I just… Please, Sir. Please, let me come. You said I was good.” The base of my spine tingles, my core clenched tight as I try to push myself over, but it’s not enough.
My fists are clenched so hard my fingernails dig into my palms. I’m pulling on the cuffs without even realizing it, desperate to touch myself. Nothing helps.
“You were good, that’s true.” Cameron smooths a hand down my thigh. I grit my teeth as he tugs on the metal limbs of the toy. The pressure suddenly disappears, and blood rushes back to my balls.
I scream. Not the muffled cries I tried to bite back because we were in public, but a full-on scream from the top of my lungs.
The pain is blinding, pins and needles digging into the sensitive flesh.
Yet, the pain is mixed with pleasure, too much of it to make me come, to do anything other than lie helplessly on the floor with all my muscles locked up and wait for it to pass.
Cameron grips my cock and starts stroking me.
Too quick, too harsh, too much at once, but it works, and I finally come with another ear-splitting scream.
My cock jerks and kicks against Cameron’s hand like it’s trying to get away, but there’s no escape.
He milks every last drop from me and then some, until I’m sobbing and begging him to stop.
The vibrator keeps going, drilling into my painfully sensitive prostate, but at least the pressure on my cock and balls is gone.
A loud noise pierces the thrum of blood in my ears. Clapping and cheering.
Applause. Oh god. Could the floor open and swallow me?
Someone whistles.
“Good job, pet.” Pride sounds in Cameron’s words, and it’s the only thing that prevents me from crawling under a table and never coming out again. I did a good job.
I squirm, trying to ease the plug’s pressure on my prostate. “Thank you, Sir. But the plug…”
“I’ll take it out, don’t worry.” I don’t even have time to sag in relief when Cameron adds, “After you’ve cleaned up after yourself.”
“Cleaned up?” Am I supposed to take a shower? Actually, that would be amazing.
He directs my gaze to the puddle of cum between my knees and I realize there’s no shower coming. “Clean it up. Then we’ll take a break.”
“But how…?” I have no problem wiping the floor, but I’m not sure I’m flexible enough to do it with my hands cuffed behind my back.
Cameron cocks an eyebrow, his gaze snapping to my mouth before returning with a challenge.
“Oh. You want me to…”
Of course he does. Christ, this is so wrong. A tiny, dark part of me is thrilled by the idea, but the rest of me wants to tell Cameron to fuck off. I don’t get to do that, though, so that tiny dark part wins. Maybe it’s not that tiny after all.
I sigh. “Yes, Sir.”
As I shuffle back on my knees to get a better angle, I’m aware of the eyes on me.
Not as many as when I was screaming, but still enough for my cheeks to heat up with humiliation.
At least Cameron doesn’t look like he’s about to laugh at me.
His eyes are alive with deep, primal hunger, and the tent in his pants is unmistakable.
I did that. He thinks I’m so hot he’s about to soak through his tailored slacks.
Focusing on him, I lick my lips. It probably doesn’t look very sexy, but Cameron’s eyes flash, and his fist tightens on my leash. I slowly bend over, doing my best not to think about the people watching. Cameron’s the only one who matters, and I have his undivided attention.
At least the floor is clean, I tell myself as I stick out my tongue and hesitantly swipe it through the mess.
Saltiness explodes on my tongue. I’ve tasted my cum before, a few drops just to try it, but it felt weird.
Doing it for Cameron while people watch is completely different, and I find that I don’t mind the taste at all.
The plug still vibrating against my prostate might have something to do with it.
It distracts me enough to let me forget about the audience and the surreality of licking the floor in an illegal sex club.
The floor looks clean, but it still leaves an odd taste on my tongue. When it’s all done, I sit up with a grimace, careful not to put pressure on my balls. Cameron, bless him, has procured a fresh glass of water, and when I crawl over, he holds it to my mouth.
The plug stops vibrating. I whimper with relief and collapse between Cameron’s knees, resting my head on his thigh. Smiling, he caresses my hair. “Great job, pet. You were amazing.”
I manage a weak smile, but I’m so damn tired. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Come here.” He takes the plug out and tosses it into his bag, then pulls me sideways onto his lap. I gratefully burrow into his warmth, letting his scent envelop me. He holds me like I'm precious, whispering praise into my hair.
The club is horrifying, but I’m safe because I’m in Cameron’s arms. What more could a person ask for?