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“May I… please… I need to… oh please.” My needy boy begs to cum in the middle of the meeting, just like the slutty whore I know he's desperate to be. He rocks on my cock, his own dick on display and he doesn't care.
“Please… need to… cum… Sir.”
“You may.” I grant his release like a good kind master, and I even change the way I stroke him to encourage him over the edge.
Hot cum shoots from his tip, hitting the underside of the table with an auditable splosh. His body shudders, eyes close and he relaxes back before his cock has even finished leaking.
“If there is any on my trousers, you are crawling out of here.”
“Yes Sir.” He agrees with a little burst of colour across his cheeks.
“Lift up.” I give his hip a tap of encouragement and he lifts awkwardly off my cock. “Don't be mistaken about this, we are going back for sex.”
“Yes sir.”
I push my still-hard cock back into my trousers and then release his hands. He has the choice whether to cover his cock and do the walk of shame, or crawl. I wriggle out from beneath him and stand up ready to leave.
The fact he shuffles down onto the floor has me checking around the bottom of my trousers, but I don't see anything obvious. Maybe it's because he can't drop his head with the tight collar pressing into his throat. He could think his cock is more hidden when he's hunched over.
Long strides on his hands and knees look quite elegant as my pet keeps by my side, his spent dick hangs between his legs, balls clearly visible from behind. His position has his tight little hole revealed to the world behind us, and yet he crawls on, gaze pinned to the floor between his hands.
I keep him on all fours the whole way to my room. It's not far, and we don't pass many men, but he does the whole journey without complaint.
“Get on the bed, boy.” I order, opening the door and fumbling for the lights. “Do you have any idea how happy you have made me tonight?”
“No, sir.” He mutters, kneeling on the bed facing towards me.
“You are perfect. Just as I knew you would be. You were born to obey, but more than that, you were born to be bound and fucked and hurt in all the right ways.”
I move to him, leaning over his exposed form before drawing him in for a kiss. He kisses back, a willing participant in this intimate act. I want him to want this. I want him to love me. To beg me for more. I know he can be that boy.
“Tell me what you want, boy.”
“Please, do that thing you did before.”
“What did I do before?”
“You pinned me down and took it. What you wanted. You… fucked me. I want you to fuck me again, sir. Master? I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be this. But I think… I'm not sure why… I think I want this.”
“Of course you do. But you don't want to give it, do you, boy? You want me to take it. You want me to take it all.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I'm going to tie you up. Not because I think you can escape, or even try. But because I want to see you bound tight for me. I want to see your whole body trapped for me. And then I'm going to take you apart and split you open.”
“Yes… please… Sir.”
With those throaty groans coming from his mouth, I'm going to do all that and more. So much more.
twenty-nine
Porter
Knoxposesmewithmy arms above my head like I'm some kind of doll. Not the dancer who planned to take the world by storm. And the worst thing is, I want him to do this. I felt better with his cock in my arse than any time before this. I want this, and I hate myself for that. My wrists hang from the chain, my body slumps to allow it while he moves around. I don't watch him; I don't care what he does. I just want him to come back and abuse me. Finally, he returns, rousing me from my stupor with a single touch. He moves to a pulley at the head of the bed and turns a lever almost hidden in the shadows. The chain pulls tighter above me, raising my arms, and my body along with it. It doesn't stop until I'm upright on my knees. The mattress dips behind me and then I feel his presence. Warm breath bites my shoulder, the clinking of chain moving as he clips my collar to the end of the ceiling tether. I want to scream at him that every bit of this is overkill. I'm already captured, anything more is just… more. And yet I want more of it. I want to feel my body pinned so tight, I can't move a muscle. I don't want to feel captured; I want to feel restrained and restricted. I want to hate it, but I don't. I want to hate him, but I can't.
“Please,” I beg, though I'm not sure what I'm begging for. I need him.
“Hush, beautiful. Enjoy the calm before the storm.” His hands run across my body, moving from bare to covered skin and back to bare, moving without reason or purpose. Touching just to touch. It electrifies me, in an odd powerless way. My cock seems to have completely forgotten his earlier performance and stands to attention like a neglected pet. My body is hungry for attention, despite having nothing but his undivided attention since I arrived here.
