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The thick leather cuffs were buckled around my wrists and ankles, and a heavy weight settled between my knees as he locked the steel spreader bar into place, forcing me wide open and entirely helpless. He reached between my thighs, his broad palm stroking my already-hard length a few times until I was leaking and panting against the fabric. Then, the cold steel of the cock cage slid over my shaft. The metal keys clicked shut at the base with a definitive, terrifying snap.
“No coming tonight,” George growled, giving the cage a possessive, downward tug that made my hips twitch. “Brave boys earn their release, Santiago. Weak boys stay locked and desperate.”
“Hmmm,” I whimpered, my length straining uselessly against the cold steel that trapped my arousal.
He slicked the thick black plug generously with lube, the freezing gel a sharp contrast to my burning skin, and pressed the blunt tip directly against my hole. “Take it.”
“Ahhhnn,” I pushed back with a broken moan as the widest part stretched me wide, the silicone bulb sliding home until only the flared base sat flush between my cheeks. I gasped, sobbing as he gave it a firm, agonizing twist, making sure I felt every single inch of the suffocating fullness. Before I could catch my breath, the metal clover clamps were attached to my nipples. A sharp, ragged gasp tore from my lips as the heavy bite sank into my skin.
“Stay like this, don’t move an inch.” He ordered, and then I heard him walk back up. The engine roared again. My hands tightened in the bedsheets, fighting the motion of the hull as the boat surged forward, forcing me to struggle to keep the exact position I had been ordered to hold. He drove faster for more than half an hour and then he finally stopped. I looked out at the dark ocean through the round window. There was no light, no one around. Once again I was completely at his mercy, at the mercy of the boy who once made life so difficult for me that I wanted to kill myself. And now I was here on all fours, waiting for his command. I felt pathetic and weak. I was an addict.
I heard his footsteps coming back, and I held still. “That’s it, you are learning to obey me,” he rubbed my ass, and my ass slightly arched. “Tonight is not just about pleasure, Santiago, you need to be fully disciplined. Tonight we’re using the cane,” George told me, and the sound of him picking up the thin, whippy rattan from the nightstand made my stomach drop. “Twenty strokes. You thank me after each one and tell me how brave you are for taking it. If you slip up even once...”
He let the threat hang in the quiet room. I shuddered as the tip of the cane dragged lightly over my hot skin. The silicone plug shifted directly against my prostate with the movement. I was already shaking with anticipation, my caged cock leaking a steady line through the slit onto the dark sheets.
The cane cut through the air.
Thwack.
“Ahhh!” I jerked violently against the leather restraints, a raw cry tearing from my throat as the blinding impact sent the plug jostling deep inside my core. “One, Sir! Thank you... I’m brave for taking it.”
George raised the rattan again.
The cane began to sing through the narrow cabin air.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
My back arched violently with each precise stroke. My cries grew raw, broken, and breathless, bouncing off the bulkheads. My cheeks and upper thighs felt like they were on fire, a masterpiece of raised welts and bright crimson stripes overlapping the deep purple bruises from the night before. The steel spreader bar kept me perfectly pinned, the plug holding me wide while my caged shaft leaked steadily onto the bedding. Behind me, I could hear George’s heavy, ragged breathing, his own body close and desperate.
“Seventeen, Sir!” I sobbed, burying my face deep into the pillows to choke down the pain. “Thank you... I’m brave for taking it—”
My voice cracked entirely on the last word. The blows stopped. George set the cane down, running his broad, warm palm over the burning heat of my inflamed skin. I was shaking so hard my muscles twitched under his hand, my tears and sweat soaking into the fabric beneath my face.
George leaned over my arched spine, his hard chest pressing firmly against my back as he whispered hotly against my ear.
“You’re doing so well, baby. But I think you can take more. Tell me why you’re really here. Say it properly this time.”
“Ummh,” my breath hitched violently. When I spoke, the words came out small, broken, and utterly suffocated by the old, poisonous shame.
“Because I’m weak...” I chewed out, the tears blinding me. “I let Edwin Sullivan rape me, and then I was too weak to make anyone believe me. And you—you were his friend. You bullied me worse than anyone. I still came crawling back to you... because I’m pathetic and I deserve this—”
The air in the room turned to ice. A terrifying tension radiated off George's massive frame.
CRACK.
“Ahhh.” The cane came down harder than it ever had before. I screamed—a high, agonizing sound that cut straight through the cabin.
“That’s enough,” George growled, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of anger and grief. “You do not get to call yourself weak for surviving that monster. Twenty. Final one.”
The last stroke landed with absolute, blinding precision across both burning cheeks. My entire body seized against the restraints. The psychological walls I had built for years finally shattered, and a raw, guttural sob tore out of the absolute bottom of my chest.
“Red! Red..., please... Red!” I exhaled.
The cane clattered to the floor instantly.
The shift was instantaneous. George’s dominant force vanished, replaced entirely by an absolute protector in a fraction of a heartbeat.
“I’ve got you,” George said firmly, his hands moving at lightning speed. The leather cuffs were unbuckled, and the steel spreader bar was removed without a single harsh movement. He eased the silicone plug out slowly, letting my aching body collapse, then unclipped the heavy nipple clamps. “Scene’s over, Sig. The scene is over. You’re safe. I’m right here.”
