To Say I Love You (18 page)

It was enough to bring him onto my level—I wanted this, rough and hot and dirty. It broke so many rules, I couldn’t even count them. Not with his dick in my ass, anyway.

“Listen to me, you little slut,” he said in a rough voice. “You’re not in a position to negotiate right now.”

“Bastard.”

“Damn right.” He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts of his hips. The pressure against my prostate made me want to melt into submission, but I’d started this game, I was damn well going to finish it.

He’d always been stronger than me; he went to the gym regularly, and I didn’t. Now I ran nearly every day, I was fitter, leaner, matching him. Finding a balance between overpowering him and maintaining the movement of him inside me was difficult. We kept up a string of back and forth, bitching and biting and protesting.

“I’m gonna make you come,” he growled into my ear. “Prove what a perfect little slut you really are.”

I arched my back, felt his teeth close around my neck, and did exactly what he said I would.

“Fucking… bastard….” I gasped as he bit me again and cried out as he came inside me.

I quickly gathered him up in my arms.

Will spread himself over me, kissing me quietly while the only thing I could hear was the blood pounding through my ears. My whole world had closed down to him and me, me and him.

“Holy fucking shit.”

I felt his lips stretch into a smile at my words.

“Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he murmured. “You’re covered in marks, you know that?”

“Really?” I didn’t have the energy to lift my head and look. “Where?”

“Everywhere. Not on your neck, though. I left that bit alone on purpose.”

“Mm.”

He pulled the rest of the way out of me and carefully cleaned me up while I threw an arm over my face and pretended the world didn’t exist. I was on the highest of highs and determined to make it last as long as possible.

“Jesse?”

“What.”

“Can I lock you up?”

“Yeah, okay.”

I had a checkered history with the chastity device. Part of me loved it.
Adored
it. Another part of me loathed the very sight of the plastic-and-metal contraption, and I was sure pretty much any guy who had ever been locked up felt the same way.

It was a part of my submission that we hadn’t explored until several years into our relationship. In practical terms, it meant I couldn’t get aroused at all, and if I did, the cage stopped me getting an erection. It was uncomfortable, but not really painful.

I got the impression my Master liked the sight of me wearing it. It was a new level of submission and humiliation, and that was definitely flavor of the month.

Will found the box in one of the drawers in his nightstand and went about fitting it around my cock. There was no danger of me getting another erection now, so it was the best time for him to do it. I kept my arm over my face while he got to work, the gentle lifting and tugging and the cool feel of the metal making me feel oddly secure.

“There. All done.”

He threaded the breakaway lock through to secure the whole thing and gave me a little kiss on top of the plastic. After shifting back up the bed, he rested his head on my shoulder and rubbed my tummy gently.

“How long do I have to keep it on?” I asked.

“Oh… I don’t know. How about until your marks fade.”

I pulled away to raise my eyebrows and give him a pointed look. “Are you shitting me?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “You know you can always safeword out if you’re not happy.”

“That’s the equivalent of being seven and calling ‘Uncle’ on a Chinese burn.”

“Safewords aren’t a challenge, Jesse,” Will said seriously. “They’re in place to keep you safe.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I grouched, already fidgeting around the cage.

For the sake of Master’s favorite word,
safety
, he hadn’t secured the cage with a padlock. The plastic locks he’d found online were each marked with a unique serial number, meaning if I took one off and replaced it with another, he’d know about it.

I had permission to cut off the plastic lock in an emergency if he wasn’t around to do it for me. Other than that, if I panicked or wanted to safeword, I had to ask him before removing the cage or be punished for doing so. It was a psychological trap as much as a physical one, a permanent reminder of my service to him.

I guessed the marks would take three or four days to fade completely. So far, the longest I’d been kept in chastity was two whole days, and that had been as punishment. The hottest part of the whole exchange was when Will got his diary out. He used it for work, to store all his meetings in, and I’d fallen into the habit of buying him a new one for Christmas every year.

On the day he locked me up, he’d mark on the page for that day my name and the serial number on the lock. It was right there, for anyone to see:
Jesse, tag number 5293041.
It was so he’d know if I broke the lock and replaced it with another without telling him. Not that I’d ever do that. It was just his way of making sure he stayed in control of the whole process.

If I was going to be wearing the device for any length of time, I generally dressed and slept in jockstraps. I found they supported me better and held everything nicely in place. The fact that Will liked them too was an added bonus.

He was on the long stretch being home from Atlanta, so I didn’t have to worry about being left on my own to deal with the frustrations. Not that I masturbated a lot while he was gone—some, but not a lot. The fact that he couldn’t play with my dick either went some way to making up for it.

I lasted about three days before the cage really started to get to me. I was fidgety and achy, and not in the good way. Things around the house pissed me off more than they should, and even though I could reason with myself as to why I was putting myself through this absolute torture, it wasn’t making me feel any better.

I eventually gave in and poured myself into Will’s lap, displacing his book in the process, and draped my legs over the arm of his chair.

“What’s up?” he asked.

In response, I pouted.

“Ah. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I want it off.”

“If you want it off, just ask. I won’t say no.”

At my expression, he laughed and smoothed my hair back from my face. “You stubborn ass,” he said affectionately.

“They’re nearly gone now.” I pulled down the hem of my shorts to show him the marks on my hips, perfect thumbprint ovals, which had faded to a yellowish-green color. Within a day, maybe two, they’d be gone completely.

“It was a challenge more than an order, Jesse. If you want out, just say.”

“I want to do it for you. I’m just fucking uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to feel sorry for you. If you are, it won’t work. That being said,” he continued, “you don’t have to suffer in silence. Not for this, anyway.”

I nuzzled into the side of his neck and grinned. “Thanks, Sir.”

“No problem, sweetheart. What would you like to cook me for dinner tonight, hm?”

In normal circumstances I would have punched him on the arm for that, but I’d gone to him as his sub, and was addressing him as my Master. I paused.

While I considered, his silent amusement seeped through to me. Sometimes, the crossover between our romantic and kinky lives made things awkward, and there were times when I could never really be sure what his intentions were. That just kept me on my toes.

“Whatever you like, Sir,” I said in a demure voice, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’d really like a taste of you, but I can’t exactly do that while you’re locked up. That fucking cage is torture for me as well, sometimes.”

“You don’t have to do without,” I said immediately. “I’m happy to blow you, always.”

“That’s a very nice offer. Even I’m not sadistic enough to make a locked sub blow me when they can’t get anything from it.”

“I get the pleasure of serving you,” I insisted.

“Serve me by fixing some dinner,” he said. “Grilled chicken with something would be good.”

I’d been thinking along similar lines. “Salad and potatoes?”

“Perfect.”

I let him draw me into a sweet kiss. It wasn’t exactly hardship, after all, then hopped off his lap to start cooking.

We’d had a long and serious conversation about domestic service, being a houseboy by any other name. It didn’t do anything for me, so we’d shelved the idea for the most part. It was different when we dragged a session out over a few days, which was what we were doing by keeping the cage on.

The rules changed; I needed to stay in my subspace all the time, even if it was only a little bit. It wasn’t the same as a deep session; when I was just Jesse, normal guy, there was no way I’d do the things Master asked of me. When I was his sub, I needed those things.

While fixing dinner, I sang along to the radio, content, safe, loved. Perfect.

I
PINNED
a note to the door a few minutes before he was due home, a simple square of paper folded a few times with “Will Anderson” written on the outside. He’d only gone to the store, but in that time, I’d taken a shower and the marks really were gone. On the paper I’d written:

Master,

I am waiting for you inside, wearing your cage and your collar and little else.

I remain, as always, your humble submissive.

Jesse

With that done, I stripped down, neatly stored my shorts in the hallway closet, and knelt in the living room in a spot that couldn’t be seen from the front door, no matter what angle you looked in from.

I took a deep breath, folded my arms behind my back, and relaxed.

It was a few minutes before I heard his car pull up, then his feet on the porch. He hesitated at the door, reading my note, I guessed, then walked into the room.

“You’re extraordinary,” he murmured, crossing to me and pulling me to my feet.

“Sir.”

He crushed his lips to mine in a kiss that would leave me raw and sore, and dug his fingers into my ass and hips to keep me balanced. I was forced to bend backward under him, and my cock throbbed painfully within its cage.

“Bedroom, now,” he growled, already tugging at the knot of his tie.

I scrambled to obey.

He was only inches behind me, throwing clothes wherever in his rush to get them off. I waited, breathing heavily, until he ordered me onto the bed, and I quickly complied.

“Scissors?”

“In the nightstand.”

“Good.”

He cut the lock off with steady fingers, tossing it aside so he could check the serial number against his record. I groaned loudly as the unforgiving plastic was removed from my body and my cock immediately sprang up as the blood pumped through it.

“Respectfully, Sir,” I panted as he started to roll my balls between his fingers, “if you were planning on allowing me to come, I’d like it if you were inside me first.”

Master chuckled. “You can come, Jesse. Whenever you like.” His mouth closed around the head of my cock and sucked gently, then he pulled away and blew lightly over the spit-slicked skin. “This is for you. I have every intention of making love with my boyfriend later. Right now I want to reward my sub for being such a good boy. Is that okay with you?”

“That’s just fine by me, Sir.”

“I thought it might be.”

It had been tough—that was an understatement—trying to control my horniness while he’d been gone. This was worth it, though. Not just the reward—that was awesome—but knowing he was giving it to me because he was pleased. Because he was proud.

With many, many days’ worth of come stored up, it didn’t take long at all for me to explode into his mouth, bucking and groaning and twisting sheets beneath my hands. Master quickly gathered me up in his arms when he was done, holding my naked body close to his clothed one.

I sighed, closed my eyes, and let myself relax.

“Do you want to go back to the club again?” he asked, tracing light patterns over my stomach. It tickled, but I liked it.

“The next gays-only night isn’t for a few weeks.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’d be happy going to a regular night.”

“As long as the organizers don’t mind….”

“Well, they’re fairly open about accepting anyone in. I don’t think the people who go to the gays-only night, as you put it, go to the main club for fear of girly bits.”

I snorted with laughter. “Yeah, okay.”

“But I don’t mind girly bits. I mean, I prefer you, but they don’t scare me.”

“I feel sorry for anyone who’s scared of a vagina,” I said solemnly, making him laugh.

“I have plans for you, then,” he said once he’d recovered.

“Yeah? Are you gonna share?”

“I suppose I should.”

“You don’t have to go into details. Just give me an idea, in case it freaks me out. I’d prefer to freak out here rather than at the club.”

“Same. Okay. You know the doctor’s office room?”

“I knew it!” I exclaimed. “You were looking far too interested when we went past there.”