Safeword (16 page)

“I asked you a question, boy.” His voice was a soft warning, the stillness of a stalking cat just before the pounce. Surprised by the ferocity of my internal reaction to such a pounce, I found myself craving it. Needing it. Needing him to put me in my place. And I reacted on instinct.

“I remember, Sir,” I spat, still glaring. “But I won’t need them.”

He raised a brow. “No? So sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Not that. I’m sure of you. That you won’t push me far enough to use them. You’re too concerned with breaking me; we’ll get nowhere near my limits.”

He sucked in a breath and held it. His nostrils flared and his gaze went marble hard. “You think so?”

Despite the incredulity on his features, his voice was still velvet smooth. I knew his abs would be slabs of rock beneath his shirt, controlling his breathing, his voice, his reaction to my disobedience.

“I know so.”

“‘I know so, Sir,’” he instructed.

I said nothing.

To my surprise, he gave a low chuckle, then turned away to retrieve something else from our overnight bag. He held it behind his back so I couldn’t see what it was.

“Get on the bed.” I didn’t move. “Get on the bed or you won’t come for a week.”

Reluctantly, I complied, though I wasn’t sure of the position he wanted. Instead of asking like I normally would have, I lay on my back against the pillows nonchalantly, ankles crossed and arms folded behind my head, relaxed but not exactly pliant. There was no headboard, I noticed, wondering what he’d use for me to hold in verbal restraint. He bent to remove the cock ring, giving my dick a few good strokes I did my best to ignore.

“You’re not that hard,” he observed.

“You’re not making me hard.”

“When we play, I want you hard at all times, whether it’s my doing or not. These are basics, Gavin. Or have you forgotten?”

C’mon. Don’t insult me, control me.
I met his gaze, the corner of my mouth quirking up as I said almost lazily, “Fuck you, Ben.”

He pounced.

BEFORE I could register the movement, Ben was on me, his slacks-clad knees squeezing my ribs right above the top of the corset. He clamped a hand over my mouth and his eyes flashed, though he sounded almost amused and certainly not angry. I dug my fingers into his thighs, squeezing hard, my heart hammering. Finally, we were getting somewhere.

“We’ve discussed this. Your insolent tongue belongs to me, and you’re misusing it. Is there a problem here?”

The air between our staring eyes crackled with electric tension, and his weight on me brought up the panic-signaling tingle in my lower back. Instinctively, I bucked against him, trying to dislodge his solidity with my hips. My dick had taken note of his instructions, and had filled to aching pressure once again. His words from the night I’d safeworded on us resurfaced.

We only look back enough to consider limits, but from here on out, it’s all about the future
.

But he hadn’t been following his own advice. He’d been too easy on me, too concerned about setting me back, and I
needed
him to trust both his ability to dominate and my willingness to safeword if I needed to. It’s not like he hadn’t heard me use the words. I had to push him, beg for punishment, prove I could take it. Regardless of his words that stormy night, I needed it put into action. A big part of me was angry at the situation I found myself in, begging to be taken to my limits

“Is there a problem here?” he repeated.

I licked his palm.

His pupils dilated, and he pinched my cheeks, forcing my jaw open. As soon as my lips parted, he shoved a belt between my teeth and yanked my hair to pull my head forward. I grunted against the leather, chest heaving as the the buckle clinked at the nape of my neck. So that’s what he’d hidden from me.

It was risky, the gag. But it wasn’t a stainless steel doorknob-shaped butt plug shoved so hard into my mouth a tooth chipped. It was pliant, and I could bite down on it. I could probably even mumble words around it, and I definitely didn’t feel any strain in my jaw.

Yes, Ben. Yes! Take control and make me. Let me show you I’ll do anything for you; all you have to do is demand it.
I buzzed everywhere he touched and I unconsciously bucked my hips into his ass, though for a very different reason than struggling for freedom.

Ben, calm as could be, plucked my hands from his thighs and pinned them to the bed, lacing our fingers together and squeezing. I knew it was his way of checking on me without letting up on the force with which he held me down. I went compliant beneath him. He sensed the change, because while he still held his serious expression, his eyes softened from beady marbles.

“I’m not going to tie you, but I expect you to be still. No headboard. Do you need something to hold onto?”

I nodded with a small whimper against the leather in my mouth. He moved to the closet and came back with a wooden hanger. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. He held it out for me and I gripped it, getting comfortable before he guided it above my head and beneath the pillows.

“I expect you not to knock the pillows to the floor.” I marveled at his creativity, restraining me without tying me down. Pillows, such a light, easily tossed object. I’d really have to hold still to keep from launching them. “I have one more thing before we start,” he intoned, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. He set warm palms on my ankles and spread my legs, and for a brief moment, I feared he’d try to tie my feet down.
Trust him. He knows you, and you asked for this.

Instead, he knelt on the bed between my calves and slid a silk tie from his pocket and through his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. Would he use the tie to bind my cock and balls? Would he test my limits by knotting it around one limb, though not confining me to an immovable object? Breath whistled through my nose as I locked on the scrap of silk in his hands, which he lovingly threaded between his fingers, trailing the ends along my skin, inching ever farther up the bed. Each small knee-step pushed my legs farther apart, and the ends of the tie trailed up my inner thighs. He pulled the fabric taut, and then wrapped it once around each palm, lowering his hands to rub the silk against me. He scooped my balls onto it, running the length back and forth across my taint, then looping it around my scrotum. I groaned at the squeeze of the cool silk.

To my surprise, he released one end of the tie and continued to track it upward, tickling my dick, the whisper of the fabric over the corset tiny in my ears. He fisted the small end, leaving only a few inches protruding from his hand, and playfully whipped my nipples. There was no pain, and the rustling slap against my skin made me gasp, remembering a time when I wanted him to swing at my flesh with implements, when the heat beneath a good flogging could make me feel sated without even coming. By the time he was done playing, the silk was warm and my legs were draped over his thighs as he leaned forward, his face inches from mine.

“So beautiful, my captive. So trusting, and mine to play with,” he murmured. He buried his face in my neck, resting both elbows on the bed above my shoulders, the tie somewhere out of sight over my head. He kissed my thundering pulse, making sweet humming noises against my jaw. “You smell good, sweaty in my bed, waiting to see what comes next. And you don’t know, do you?”

I really didn’t, so I shook my head. The anticipation was what I needed, the uncertainty that forced my trust in him.

“Ties can do more than detain,” he said, voice rumbling more through his chest to mine than through my ears. “They can cradle. They can encircle. They can cover.” The silk slipped down my forehead and settled over my eyes, his sensual tones immediately intensifying with my vision gone. “Tell me your safe words.”

Though the sounds emerged disfigured from behind the belt, they were still discernible as “rain” to slow down and “thunder” to completely stop. It was good enough for me, in that moment, with the world darkened by blue silk.

“Lift your head,” he ordered, caramel-coated words slipping over me. I obeyed, and the tie cinched tight behind my head. I had a hint of light seeping in from beside the bridge of my nose, but not enough to offer a genuine peek. It was a comfort, knowing that even though I saw darkness, I wasn’t immersed in it.

“Roll over,” he said, lifting off me to allow the movement. I pulled my legs to my chest, only a little hampered by the corset, and not letting go of the hanger. Ben’s weight immediately returned, and his hands fiddled with the ties at my back. I heard the distinguishable sound of laces unthreaded, and the corset loosened all at once. It was liberating, but at the same time, I was sorry for the loss of pressure. Ben’s virtual hug was no longer with me. He loosened the garment to his satisfaction, and then pressed a hand to the small of my back. “Roll again.”

He worked at the hooks on my front, baring me to the chilly room, which illustrated just how susceptible to touch I had become in even just a few hours’ confinement. He caressed my torso, the sensation heady and new with sensitivity. His stubble scraped my skin as he lowered to kiss my belly.

“Okay?” he asked. I nodded. Every sensation across the newly uncovered skin was magnified. The cool of the room, Ben’s trailing fingertips, the gentle movement of the matted hairs of my treasure trail as he breathed across them. “Arch your back.” I did so, and he slid the corset from beneath me.

His weight left the bed entirely, and I turned my head to follow the sounds of him, but I didn’t dare move anything else. I’d gotten what I wanted, utter and total domination, immobilized within my limits, and completely at his mercy. I heard him near the closet, and assumed he was hanging the corset up to avoid ruining it.

Fingers trailed into my hair and I jumped, not having heard him return to my side. His voice came from beside me rather than above, so I guessed he was on his knees next to the bed and the little glass shelf on which he’d put the candles. Lips pressed against my awkwardly stretched mouth, and I groaned at being unable to return his kiss, which turned quickly to biting nibbles. I was so turned on I ached, not just in my cock, but everywhere. I craved his touch, whatever he saw fit to bestow upon me. My neck strained as I lifted my head to chase him as he pulled away, but his fingers in my hair stopped that notion before I got more than an inch off the pillows.

“No. I told you to be still.”

I couldn’t convey my acquiescence with my eyes the way I usually did, nor could I speak to apologize. The best I could do was to grunt an apology and be as motionless as possible.

“You’re having trouble following orders today. Is it because you need the discipline? Are you that out of sorts? Or are you testing
my
limits?”

He obviously didn’t want an answer. I remained silent, inert despite the bed dipping under his weight at my side. Long moments passed, and I waited, tense and expectant for some clue as to his intentions, a word, a caress, even a pinch.

Nothing.

Then the burn hit my tender stomach and I sucked a hissing breath through the space around the belt. The sound of splatter hit my ears, and my mind reeled, attempting to discern what was happening while heat puddled in one sensitive spot next to my belly button.

“Shhh,” Ben soothed, his hand encircling my cock, stroking slowly, excruciatingly slowly, drawing pleasure through the pain. “Just a little hot wax. Cools quickly.” Ah, the candles. His breath ghosted across the rapidly drying wax, stiffening my skin, and I shuddered. Then everything stopped again, his touch, his breath leaving me, although his solid presence at my side remained steady, comforting. But now I knew what was coming, and it was worse, the waiting. Where would the next dribble be? My chest? My legs? My cock?

I had my answer when my right nipple lit on fire and a trail of blazing heat flowed down my chest. It hurt. Holy hell, did it hurt, but only for a brief moment before the skin pulled with drying wax. Then, the smooth texture of the wax became pleasurable against the bud of my nipple, and Ben’s fingernail scraped off the drips as he simultaneously stroked me again. He followed his fingers with his lips and tongue on my nipple, and it took everything I had not to move, to seek his touch. The strength of my grip on the hanger made my fingers go numb and the absence of any visual stimulation made everything I heard and felt that much brighter, more vibrant, more painful, just... more. Subspace curled at my edges, and I sighed against the belt. Ben would do what he would to me, and it was my job simply to feel it, to lie there and take it. I needed to let go, and the last of my resistance ebbed from my limbs. I relaxed my fingers, holding the hanger only tight enough to keep from dislodging the pillows.

“Oh, yes,” Ben whispered against my chest. “Lovely, lovely submission.”

His palm slipping over the ridge of my glans was too little, and yet too much at the same time, the blindfold rendering me completely at the mercy of my other senses. His breathing was steady, the pump of his fist languid, at a pace I knew was designed to drive me crazy. He was walking me up the slope of pleasure so slowly, I’d be a writhing, begging mess seeking his touch. The loss of my sight made it worse. I didn’t have the visual stimulation necessary to help me closer to orgasm. My breath whistled past the leather strap in my mouth, loud in my ears, and desperate.

His stubble scraped as he pulled back, and the now-familiar moment of waiting began again. This time, it wasn’t difficult at all. Where the wax trickled didn’t matter. I knew he wanted a reaction from me, so when the sensitive skin on the underside of my cock, toward the base and in the dip of my ball sack between my testicles lit up with bright pain, I tensed, moaned, but otherwise didn’t move. “Brilliant,” Ben praised lovingly, caressing my legs with one hand. The heat radiated outward, and I felt each individual drip of hot wax as gravity guided it across me, into my pubic hair, and down the rounded slope of my nuts. It stopped there, drying rapidly. Soon, both hands caressed my legs, and I realized he’d set the candle aside.

“When we do this again, I’ll let the candles burn longer, build up more wax. It’s a shame I’m already out. Your reactions were stunning, Gavin.” He brushed my belly with his lips, kissing gently along what I imagined were red marks where the wax had splattered, and his fingernails scraped at what was left. I shivered more at the words “next time” than his touch. “You’re a mess. We need to get you cleaned up.”

I waited for him to untie the blindfold, but his feet whispered on the carpeting as he ducked into the bathroom. He ran the water for a long time. Maybe he was waiting for it to heat up enough to melt the wax again, and he could wipe it off. Frankly, I didn’t understand why he didn’t just peel it off. I used to do that as a kid, stick a finger in hot wax or glue and shed it like a snakeskin once it dried.

The water shut off, and his voice came from the foot of the bed. “Scoot to the edge, Gavin, toward me, but lift your hips some.”

I did my best to obey, but it was awkward, shuffling while still holding onto the hanger. I was likely the picture of ungraceful clumsiness, but Ben said nothing. When my feet hit the floor, my knees bent over the corner of the mattress, I felt a fluffy towel beneath my ass.

“Get right on the edge, boy,” he murmured. When I’d achieved his desired position, he knelt beside me. “Warm cloth, just relax.” I was grateful he warned me, because even with the warning, I jumped. The cloth was truthfully on the just-bearable side of hot, and he ran it from my pecs to my belly button and back again. The wax beneath gave way, rolling and scraping my skin. “It’s a good thing you don’t have a hairy chest. Otherwise we’d have to shave more of you.”

Shave
more
of me?
I must have grunted in question, because Ben continued.

“Paraffin wax is particularly difficult to remove from hair. Don’t worry, boy. I’ll get it all off you.”

I shivered, realizing what was coming. My chest heaved both in unquenchable arousal and uncertainty.
Guys shave themselves all the time,
I reassured myself. In fact, it would be better to have Ben do it since he could see places I couldn’t and would have steadier hands without having to contort to reach everywhere.