Subjection (27 page)

“Yes, master,” I reply instantly, spreading my legs so he has better access. I want to fuck more than pretty much anything, at the moment.

The very tip of his finger breaches me and I take a deep, gasping breath, my hands clutching the sheets tightly. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s not long before he’s twisting ever so slightly inside of me, biting at the inside of my legs as he does it.

“You’re sure?” he teases, pausing for a moment. “Because if you really want, I can get you off right now and we can call it a night.”

I force my eyes to open so I can see his face, familiar, but still so unusual. He’s smirking at me. He doesn’t smirk!

“Oh god, yes, master, please, I want you inside of me.” Christ, I’m desperate. “Fuck me!”

“Don’t move,” he orders, moving away.

It’s all I can do not to cry when I feel his hands and mouth leaving my body.

It’s not for long, of course, he returns with what I assume is lube. My suspicions are confirmed a few seconds later when his hands return, slippery now, and he forces two fingers inside of me while gripping my hip tightly. I arch and moan and almost try to move away before I realize it feels good.

I hear him make a low sound of pleasure and it sends sparks through my body. I rock with his movements, wanting more of him.

He plays with my cock while he fucks me with his fingers, alternating between licking and sucking and biting and jerking it with the hand that he’s not using on my ass. Between the attention my cock is getting and the attention my ass is getting, I want to come, I need to come so bad I can almost taste it, but I know better, and I want to wait for him to be inside of me anyway.

“Please, master, don’t make me wait any longer,” I beg, giving up all hopes of shame. “Fuck me before I come!”

My master laughs, pulling his fingers out of me and making me squeal with frustration. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns, clamping his hand around my cock. “Move back.”

He uses my cock like a joystick, guiding me back further on the bed. I’d be offended, except it feels so goddamned good, and despite his actions he’s surprisingly gentle. When I have the presence of mind to look at him, he’s smiling.

“Much better,” he decides, climbing onto the bed with me. “I hate being uncomfortable.”

He’s half-sitting, half-kneeling between my legs, and I watch as he takes a moment to apply a generous amount of lube to his cock. I’m surprised, because I’m sure I’d be ready as it is, but I appreciate it anyway. All I want is him inside of me.

After what seems like forever, he leans forward, guiding his cock toward me. He pauses, just barely pressing against my body.

“What—”

“Shh,” he says, holding a finger to my lips.

I stay silent, staring up at him as he waits for some unheard signal before slipping himself into me in one long, smooth motion. I try to keep focused on his face, but it’s too much, the pleasure and the denial and the absurdity of the situation, so I close my eyes and give in to the sensation.

He’s slow for that first stroke, but after that he speeds up, thrusting in and out so fast I lose track and simply hold onto the sheets as if they’ll protect me. He has one hand on my cock, pumping in time with his own thrusts, and the other is on my hip, pressing me down as if I’m about to go somewhere.

The feeling is amazing. He’s fucking me hard enough that it hurts, just a little, enough that I can get off from it. The hand on my hip is probably going to leave bruises, too, and I love that just as much. I struggle to contain myself, knowing I won’t last long. I want to wait, hoping he’ll order me to come for him, but he doesn’t, he just keeps driving into me and stroking my cock, and I’m afraid I’ll ruin it by coming too soon.

“I need to come, master,” I finally give in. “Please? Let me?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just smiles and increases the pace, fucking me and stroking me harder.

I panic a little. It feels too good. He’s going too fast, this has been too much of a fantasy. I won’t be able to stop myself and I know it and somehow the anxiety gets me more turned on.

My eyes are pressed shut as my orgasm rips out of my body, accompanied by screams and shaking and trembling. I almost don’t care if I’ve done something wrong, because it felt so good and it still feels good. I could be killed right now and it would be worth it.

I hear my master make a little sound of pleasure, and when I finally look up at him, I see him smiling. He can’t be angry at me, I realize, and it occurs to me that his goal the whole time was to make me break, to force me to lose control like this. I don’t mind, because it seems like he is perfectly aware of how turned on the whole situation made me, and I’m still elated from the orgasm he just gave me.

He keeps fucking me; it seems like he could last forever. In reality, it’s probably only a few minutes more, and when he comes, he grabs my hips in both of his hands and jerks me to him, making me cry out at the deep thrust. I feel him come inside of me and shudder a few times before pulling out, his hands still holding me down.

He takes a few deep breaths and I follow suit, not eager to disrupt the moment. Finally, he slips off the bed, looking at me pointedly and ordering me to stay before disappearing into his bathroom.

My head reels. Did this just happen? Reality comes back quickly once I’m alone, and all the anxieties and fear and uncertainty that had been chased away by the wonder of sex start flooding back in, and I wonder if I just made a mistake. I start to tremble, slightly at first, and then all over, everywhere, my skin breaking out in goosebumps. I close my eyes and try to figure out what the hell just happened.

“You okay?”

My master’s voice cuts through the panic.

I open my eyes to look up at him, surprised that they
can
still open, surprised that my heart can still beat. Didn’t that just throw the world off balance or something?

He sits next to me and I try not to flinch when he raises his hand with an object in it.

“Relax, Sascha,” he orders, his voice calmer than usual. He doesn’t say anything else, but he takes the towel he brought with him and carefully wipes my body clean with it.

I don’t say anything as he takes care of me, because I don’t know what to say. Anything I think of seems inadequate; besides, I think words might break the spell that seems to have come over him. I’m still nervous, but I don’t want this moment to end.

He finishes washing me up and opens a bottle of water, passing it to me with an expectant look on his face. Right. Drinking. Hydration is good.

While I’m trying to remember how to swallow, he goes to the other side of the bed and makes his way under the covers, leaving me lying there confused. Do I stay with him? Go back to my room, slinking away like a whore? I shouldn’t even consider thinking that this changes things; I am still his unwanted slave, he is still my cold and distant master. This had to have been just sex. I set the bottle of water down next to the bed, suddenly aware that I’m naked and exposed. The fact that he’s naked as well makes no difference; something tells me that he could show up at work naked and claim that it was the latest fashion trend and nobody would question him.

“The light’s on your side,” my master says calmly, as if this is nothing unusual. As if he didn’t just subtly invite me to sleep in his bed. “Just above your head.”

I reach up and hit the switch wordlessly, plunging us into darkness. It’s not cold, but it’s awkward to lie on top of the blankets, so I scrunch my legs up under me until I can get under them, stretching out hesitantly and lying on the pillows. I remind myself again that this had to have been just sex, but even the harsh reminder doesn’t make me feel any less happy to be here right now. I try to tell myself it’s just because his pillows are
very
comfortable.

Chapter 24
Coming Clean

I wake the next day to see Sascha fast asleep next to me, curled up in my blankets like he’s meant to be there. I watch him, just for a few moments, while I think about what we did last night. The sex was undeniably amazing; there’s no doubting that there is chemistry between us. I just never thought it would be acted upon. I’m not sure what provoked me to kiss him like that. I wanted to scare him, but he ended up liking it. I did too, far more than I expected. The fantasies I have tried not to have about him are nothing compared to the real thing.

I’m not sure what to do with it, so I creep out of bed as quietly as possible. I return to my office, make sure my tablet is still working after we dropped it last night, and keep working, trying not to let myself get distracted with memories of last night. It’s a while longer before I hear Sascha up and about, showering in my bathroom again. He’s bold, spending quite a while in there. I wonder if he’ll find the towel I left out for him.

After a while, I hear him walking down the hallway. “Sascha, start coffee?” I request. “And get back in here when you’re done, I have some projects for you to pick up on.”

I have the work ready for him, but he takes even longer than usual, returning with a toasted bagel like we’re on vacation. He hasn’t been allowed out of his room for days, and he’s already putting aside my orders. I frown, wondering how much I’m spoiling him.

“When I tell you to get back in here, I mean immediately,” I point out. “Now, look at this.”

He looks wary. I push it aside, just like I push aside the newfound realization of just how attractive he is. I’ve ignored it successfully for months, but today, it’s like a spotlight follows him around, highlighting his best features as I try to ignore them and think platonic thoughts. I have no interest in abandoning my work because I have a pretty boy to fuck; I’ve gotten behind enough with the power struggle I engaged Sascha with.

“I need you to research some figures for me,” I explain, giving him a list of the companies I’m interested in. If he resents the past two weeks, he doesn’t show it; he seems excited to be working again, if not a little distracted.

“Is this public information, or will I have to hunt a bit?” he asks.

I realize he’s asking whether he’ll need to break through anyone’s security to get what I need. “It’s not public,” I admit, still uncomfortable with him helping me commit these sorts of crimes.

“I’ll need my tablet,” he says, eyeing me warily. “And some of the blocks that you put on it…”

He won’t just ask me to remove them; that would be too easy. “Restore it to the last point you had it at,” I concede. “Stick to work.”

“Yes, master,” he agrees, keeping his eyes down and focusing on his breakfast.

He doesn’t question me further, and we go about our day as we used to, no indication that last night ever happened, nor the punishment I subjected him to. I don’t know how to bring last night up, especially not the questions we left unanswered in exchange for a night of passion. More than anything, I don’t know how to tell him why I was so angry without revealing everything. I wonder if I should; after all, he’s as deep into this as I am. I’ve been burned before, though, and I don’t want him pulled into this if it will put him in danger.

Of course, being involved with me and opposing my mother has already put him in danger. I need to put that lie aside and give him the information he needs to keep us both safe.

“I found a way to distract you from asking about my research last night,” I start, a little hesitant. He glances up, a shy smile that encourages me more than anything else he could possibly do. “But you deserve to know about it.”

He stands there quietly, waiting for me to make the next move.

“Bring a chair over here, and give me your tablet for a moment,” I order, moving my own aside so he can sit next to me at my desk. When he does, I open the files I have hidden, not only the benign data that I showed him last night, but incriminating data. I hand it over to him. “That’s all of it.”

The files outline my current project. It is one of the secrets I’ve hidden from Sascha for months, the information I once smacked him for looking at accidentally. It’s the project that he puts at risk every time he speaks out of turn.

Ten years ago, I started to research the Demoted. In particular, I was interested in the re-education centers, the industry my mother had shaped into the cold system of torture and brainwashing that it is now. My research started as a spiteful vendetta against my mother, but what I found had far-reaching implications. Simply put, the re-education centers made slaves less useful. I wanted to find a better system, but that meant defying my mother and challenging the current system; the system that the governments of many nations had adopted. I was young, careless. My mother found out. She reported me to the state officials and had me arrested on treason charges. She insisted that she was protecting me, but she was just protecting herself. The Miller System had always been more important than her son.

Fortunately, she didn’t find all my data. I was able to recreate most of my original research proposal.

Everything I’ve hidden so carefully I’m offering to Sascha. It’s uncomfortable; I’ve never shared this much of my work with anyone, not to mention this much of myself. My plans for funding are all laid out, potential associates, risks, benefits. The research proposal itself is simple, just a reboot of what I did before. It’s the sharing that is a challenge.

He could destroy me with this, if he wanted to. While I should be able to silence him, I doubt I could go through with it. That’s not the biggest thing that concerns me, though. He could be in danger from knowing everything, especially about the past project, the failure, my family’s connections. My mother is a threat, but I can’t see how knowing about that threat will make Sascha any safer.

The decision not to tell him everything is easy enough to justify. It will keep him safe and it will simplify things. A part of me wants to start new with him. The way he looks up at me, waiting, trusting, only makes it that much easier. I want to be the person he sees when he looks at me like this.

“I ran a pilot test a few years back,” I tell him, disguising the truth. I can tell him about a pilot test without telling him about my mother, or my imprisonment, or just how dangerous this really is. “I had researched the Demoted in college, and I knew that the whole Demoted system was flawed, starting with the re-education centers. We waste valuable intellectual resources by Demoting people who might otherwise be key in innovation and invention.”