The following story is a work of complete fiction, dreamed up in my own twisted little mind. I invented Lance and Sebastian, and any resemblance they might have to real people is purely coincidental. If you're uncomfortable with themes of consensual, loving bondage, domination/submission, or humiliation and training between two young men, please stop reading here. Everyone else, enjoy!
Thanks to TL for encouragement and to istari for inspiration.
Comments are welcomed, adored, and lovingly spanked and petted at bondedboy13@yahoo.com. The next parts are already written, but the holidays may delay posting for a bit. Thank you to everyone who has sent their thoughts already! It keeps the story flowing.
Part Nine: Rest For The Wicked
I helped Sebastian to the car and let him spread out in the back seat on his belly, at least as well as he could. He was a very sore and uncomfortable boy, that's for sure, moaning and whimpering as he squirmed around, and finally lying still. I thought about what Ben had told me before we'd started Sebastian's session: "You can approach his submission problem any number of ways. Spend a day without hurting him at all, see how he likes that. Or tie him up and keep him in agony all day long. If he can't control his mouth, gag him for a week. You know him best, you'll know what will work. Hell, try them all, but don't let him know when. He'll be a much happier boy when he just gives up, and it's your duty to get him there." The only sound on the ride home was his quiet crying.
It worried me at the beginning, his frequent crying jags. He'd never been much of a cryer before, choosing instead to express strong emotions by shouting or lashing out physically or withdrawing to sulk. He's always been very passionate and dramatic, my Seb. But after thinking about it for a while, I realized that he'd simply had to find another outlet for his emotions, now that I'd taken his more violent options away from him, and that crying was very healthy. It seemed to help him; he cried when he was in pain, or overjoyed, or just plain overwhelmed, and it always calmed him and helped him settle back down.
I've been watching Seb for years, and I admit, loving him for years. He was too outrageous and miserable and wild to love anyone but himself back then, but that didn't keep me from learning about him, studying his quirks and ways. And now it felt like I hadn't taken my eyes off him for a week. I was starting to know him, not just the outside, but all the little twists and turns of his psyche, the dark subconscious secrets that he showed in every shift of his expressive face, the things his body asked for even as his mind resisted, and vise versa. I was starting to know him like he was a part of myself. I could actually feel him becoming more attuned to me as well, as his attention gradually shifted from his own desires and reactions to mine.
As I listened to his little sniffles now I almost had to smile. I had a feeling that the tears were sincere, but that he probably could have stopped at any time. He was milking me for sympathy, and I was pretty sure he was hoping for a mind-blowing orgasm. Well, that was just too bad.
"We're home, kiddo," I told him, as I pulled into the driveway. "Hang in there." He whimpered pathetically, and made a very big deal out of getting out of the car, leaning on me heavily as we walked into the house. I stood him in the hallway and stripped him gently. "Upstairs, get in my bed. I'll join you in a second." Before he could go I pulled him to me and wrapped my arms around him lightly, feeling him shiver as my hands spread across the hot skin of his back, then melt boneless and let his head fall to my shoulder. We stood there for a long time, and I just let him cling to me, his hands fisted in my shirt, mine making soft sweeps over his tender skin.
When I finally let him go he gave me a truly brilliant smile, and limped for the stairs. I watched him go, admiring. That slim body was striped with dark pink slashes, a look that I hadn't known till recently I found so intensely erotic.
It had been very hard to accept, the idea that I took so much pleasure in causing him pain. I'd spanked sex partners before and enjoyed it intensely; I'd been spanked once and had never invited such attention again. But I'd never taken it further than that. Possibly because I knew that it was dangerous in my situation; not that my one-night-stands with other closeted stars were totally safe, but just plain sex was dangerous enough. I mean, you don't crawl into bed with a member of a famous boyband, both of you relying on the other to keep things quiet, and ask if you can tie him up and beat him with a whip, even if you think he might like it. In the shadow world I moved in, it was sort of an unspoken rule. No one gets kinky, no one gets outed, everyone gets off. Now I wondered how I'd ever enjoyed sex so meaningless. Seb's need and pain and love and submission were the most potent aphrodisiac I could imagine.
Despite my discomfort, though--was I sick? Was this even normal? Would someone lock me up someday?--I'd had to accept things very quickly and regain my center and balance, so I could help Sebastian. I wondered sometimes if he'd have done better with a more experienced master, someone who would know his moves before he made them, who could control him more effectively and train him more thoroughly. I almost cringed, imagining the mistakes I was probably making with him. But I took comfort in the progress he WAS making, and the happiness and love on his face, and the contentment I could see growing in him day by day. The brat. He was probably upstairs at that moment, plotting how to get something out of me. I grinned and shook my head and headed up to him.
He was exactly where he'd been told to be--funny how he doesn't have a problem with obedience when he's asked to do something pleasant--sprawled out on my bed with the radio playing, his eyes half-shut, humming along with the music. He's always sort of languid and pliant and calm after he's been punished severely; some of it's the lingering endorphins, I'm sure, but some comes from deeper inside. It fills a need for him, makes him complete. It's wonderful to see.
He watched me quietly as I got some lotion out of the bedside table, then crawled onto the bed and straddled his hips. I was careful not to rest any weight on his back as I squirted lotion over his skin and gently started rubbing it in. He trembled a little, but relaxed into the touch soon enough, and soon he was practically purring. It's funny, Sebastian hates being touched by strangers. He's been known to fly into a fit if wardrobe assistants get too aggressive or if fans start becoming grabby. Even if the roughhousing got too intense on the tour bus, he'd sometimes gotten suddenly prickly with us. But now my hands had touched every last inch of him, inside and out, and he welcomed them happily. I let him drift off to sleep like that, the lotion cooling his stripes, and covered him with a light blanket. Seb's belt was coming off tonight, at least for a little while, and I had research to do. I made my way down to the computer room.
Sometimes I think he'd sleep his entire life away if I wasn't around to act as a human alarm clock. He was still just as I'd left him, three hours later, when I woke him up and sent him downstairs to get something to eat. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, but I noticed he looked much less fragile than he had before his nap, and was moving more easily as well. I grabbed more lube, and the radio, and got things set up in the play room. I knew his curiosity would bring him back soon, and sure enough, before too long he was standing in the doorway, watching me warily.
"You ready to get that belt off, sweetie?" I smiled at him from my seat on the bed, and his eyes just lit up.
"Oh, YEAH. Yes SIR. Really? Definitely!" He practically bounced over to me, and I almost regretted what I was going to do. Almost. I patted the bed and he grinned at me as he wriggled onto it, eager as a puppy, and almost shoved his wrists and ankles into my hands as I restrained him. I had to chuckle.
"Calm down, Seb." I started unlocking the belt, piece by piece, until, for the first time in three days, he was bare.
"I can't. Oooh. It feels so strange. The air's cold." He squirmed his hips and raised his head to look down at himself. Strangely, he wasn't hard, his cock lying limp and pretty against his swollen, heavy balls, sticky with precum and a little reddened from its long confinement. "Wow." He was staring at his cock. "It's still there."
"Dork." I patted his belly affectionately. "You knew it was still there!"
"Yeah, but it kind of wasn't." He looked at me seriously. "I mean. I could pee, and stuff, but that's all. It was like...like not having a-a penis at all. It didn't do any of the thing penises are supposed to, get hard or feel good or come or anything."
I paused, arrested by this insight. "Did you feel like a girl?" I asked curiously.
"Nooooo," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Just like...something else. Like a boy without a penis. It's hard to explain."
"Hmmm." I reached between his legs for his plug as I thought about it. He was tense with excitement, and it didn't budge until I put some weight behind it, almost unscrewing it from his asshole. He gasped and his back arched and his legs struggled to spread wider, and his cock, predictably, started to fill. Like I said, his cock is lovely, slim and straight and uncut, and a little under six inches long when he's hard. Not that his size matters, since he'll never fuck anything with it again. It's a sweet little handful. I dropped the plug on the floor and let him get used to the feeling. He was empty and bare and hard, and his face was almost shocked.
"It's...I feel...naked..." He said in a little breathless voice, squirming again. "It's so strange." He'd been out of his belt for punishment, but this was a totally different situation, and it seemed to be hitting him hard. He closed his eyes and humped his hips a little as I gently cleaned him with the wet cloth I'd brought, and he blushed bright red and flinched as I wiped his asshole clean.
"Sebastian," I said firmly. "Open your eyes." He did, and looked at me. "I've had my cock in this ass, my fingers in this ass, and I've watched you shit and cleaned you out. Why are you blushing?" He turned his face away, and I grabbed his chin in my fingers and made him look at me.
"I don't...I don't want to..." He blushed deeper, if possible. "I don't want to tell you, sir."
"Too bad." I didn't let him turn away.
"It's...nasty," he whispered. "Stuff that comes out of it is nasty." He closed his eyes again, and I slapped his cheek gently, shocking them open again.
"What stuff?" I was going to force him to talk about this if it was the last thing I ever did. We were finally getting down to the root of one of his hangups.
"Poop," he whispered, shamefaced. It was telling that his cock jumped a little when he said it.
"Was it nasty when you were licking my ass?"
"No, sir! Well. Maybe, kind of." He made a face. "Not you, not that, just the idea." I resolved then and there that he'd be spending whole days with his tongue embedded in my asshole while wearing a diaper, but this wasn't the time to tell him.
"I told you before that nothing we do is nasty, Sebastian. I meant it. We'll work on it though, I understand." He blinked at me, relieved, and smiled.
"Thank you, sir." I patted his cheek, then reached down and turned on the radio, squirting some lube into my hand and warming it up. His eyes started sparkling again.
"Oh man. I can't wait to come. My balls are gonna explode!"
"It's not quite like that," I said gently. "No orgasms, baby. I'm just going to milk you out tonight, so the pressure's not so bad." He looked at me, completely uncomprehending. "You'll see in a little while. Now, just relax and enjoy it. Let me make you feel good." THAT he understood, and he sighed and smiled, as I reached for his balls.
"Ooooooh." A pleased little hum as I rolled them between my fingers, stroking the velvety skin and stroking his perineum with my thumb. He's so incredibly responsive, it never fails to turn me on. Since this was the first time I'd touched his genitals with pleasure in mind since we'd started this strange new life, I was determined to do it right. I stroked and fondled, pulled just the tiniest bit, and drank in his moans and sighs and coos. He was almost glowing, a soft smile on his face and his eyes lightly closed, his hips twitching a little as he fought to stay still. Even his hands, cuffed and restrained as they were, were open and relaxed. When I finally moved my attentions to his cock, I got a long, languid, full-body shiver that was one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. I stroked him slowly, drawing his foreskin up over the head and then slipping it down, not squeezing hard, and it was a shockingly short time before I saw his balls start to draw up, his belly clench, and those white teeth clamp into his lower lip. I stopped jacking him instantly, and moved back to his balls, slipping two fingers into his ass and starting to gently massage his prostate. His eyes fluttered open in confusion, but he was still feeling good, so soon he let go again and tipped his head back down.
By the time we'd gone through the cycle three times there was a slick pool of precum on his belly, and he was starting to get urgent. His slim little hips were making demands, bucking and trying to get me to go harder and faster, so I slowed down even further, now barely moving my hand on his cock, though I was squeezing a little harder. I pressed firmly on his swollen gland, and he jumped.
"Sir," he whined, "please..."
"No. I want you to lie very still, Sebastian." He groaned and tried to obey, though when I started rubbing and pulling a nipple he jerked and squeaked. "You are not allowed to come. Just relax."
"Ohhhhhhhh..." His head was shaking back and forth as his body fought towards completion. "Ohhhh, it hurts, it hurts, I need to come..." The expression on his face wasn't one of pain, though, just the torture of too much pleasure. Precum was pearling and dripping from the head of his cock, and I watched closely, fascinated and aroused. "Something...ohgod..." His thighs clenched and tried to press together, and he twisted his hips viciously, and I held his cock in the space between my thumb and forefinger, stripping upwards as if his cock was a teat. Firm pressure, slow pace, and then the clear flow of precum was replaced by thick, milky streams of ejaculate. Pouring from him, not pulsing, just flowing like water, and his eyes snapped open, shocked. "Holy shit," he gasped. "What's happening to me?"
"Good boy," I murmured. "It's okay, relax, just let it happen." I pulled my hand up his cock again, and got another long stream. I stroked his thigh gently, soothingly. "Let it feel good."
"I'm not coming," he said, shockingly loud and conversational and confused. "Sir, I'm not coming."
"Yes you are. It's a special kind of coming." I went back to petting his balls, calming him down and bringing him back to warm pleasure. The next time it happened, he just lay still and whimpered, hips jerking in muscle memory, though there were no contractions. "You're doing really well. Tell me how it feels, baby."
"Ohgod," he groaned, deep and low. "It's like...oh fuck, sir, it's like someone tied a string to my cum and they're dragging it out of me, it hurts, my balls, oh my god, please stop, please, no, don't ever stop..." He whimpered, and I stopped touching his cock entirely, just massaging his hole, forcing his sperm out of him till there was nothing more to give.
He was wrecked, coated with sweat, his entire belly and groin soaked in his cum, some even dripping off to the sides of the bed. He was still hard, cock sliding around in his slippery fluid, and there was amazing satisfaction in knowing that he couldn't come now if he jerked himself for hours. I let him quiver and cry, and cleaned him gently, then released his feet. He didn't move, lying sprawled spreadeagled on the bed.
"There now. That's much better." I made my tone deliberately cheerful, and his eyes fluttered open, and he gaped at me.
"I don't get to come at ALL?" His voice was barely a squeak.
"Nope. Not for a good long time." He paled, never looking away from me.
"But...but why?"
"Because I say so," I said sternly, starting to take off my clothes. After all, what safer time could there be to fuck him? And he looked so beautiful and shocked, turning this new information over and over in his mind. "I'm going to leave your belt off tonight, and I don't think I can trust you not to have an orgasm. So that decision is taken out of your hands. You don't have any self control, honey, so I'll do it for you."
"But sir." He was crying again, eyes wide as tears dripped down his cheeks. "I need...I have to..."
"No you don't." I knelt between his legs, raising and spreading his knees with my hands until they were pressed against his chest, leaving him spread wide and open, his asshole working madly as his muscles clenched and released. "Don't question my decisions, Sebastian," I warned him, and shoved my dripping cock into him brutally. I felt something tear slightly, and my head swam with a sudden surge of power and lust and love and control. I was tearing him, and it was my right to do so, and his duty to accept it and love it and thank me for it.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" He convulsed, overstimulated and tortured, and I knew he couldn't be feeling any pleasure. There was nothing left in his balls to inspire him to feel good, and soon his penis was flopping limply on his belly as I rocked him up onto his shoulders with every thrust. I just rutted on him, remembering his dark frightened jealous eyes as he watched Ben taking Corey, needing to feel him submit to me. The sounds he was making now...unreal.
"Beg me, Sebastian," I ordered him, high on the incredible feeling of his ass going slick and loose and accepting under my punishment, and I turned my head and sank my teeth into the soft skin of his thigh as I pounded deeper into his guts.
"PLEASE!" It was a shriek, and his head was thumping back against the boxpring as he arched his back and tried to escape my merciless cock, then fucked himself back on it. "PLEASE NO MORE OH SIR PLEASE PLEASE NO PLEASE STOP NOOOOO DON'T STOP IT HURTS!"
His frantic pleas picked me up and flung me over the edge into orgasm, and I ground my pelvis against his tender ass, rooting my cock deeper, wanting him to TASTE my cum. An image flashed across my brain of the footlong dildo we'd bought, still sitting unused in the drawer, and I pulled out of him leisurely, loving that last moment when his sphincter tried to hold my cockhead inside, despite the pain of its owner.
He was completely unresisting as I raised his legs up again, fastening his ankle cuffs to his wrists with a short strap, leaving him bent in half, his eyes alive and scared and staring. He screamed again when I showed him the huge lifelike dildo, more than 7 inches in circumference, coating it with lube in front of his face, stroking it affectionately. "No more," he whimpered.
"More until I decide you've had enough," I said cruelly. "I love you, baby."
"I know you do," he sobbed. "I know it, sir, thank you." There was acceptance and submission and defeat and hatred in his eyes, and he only moaned as I worked that giant rubber shaft into his raw, torn ass, giving little tearing groans as I split him in half with it, shoving it into his slender quivering body until only the ball at the end remained visible. Then I leaned up and kissed him, and went to take a shower, well-satisfied.
Part Ten: Naked
I'd fallen into a strange reverie by the time my master came back to me, damp and clean and dressed, toweling his curly hair. He sat on the bed by my side and petted me for a little while, soothing the shivers that I didn't seem to be able to stop. It didn't hurt so bad now, but I could feel that THING in my belly, spreading me and poking in my crampy guts and making my hipbones ache. It was like having to go poop, really bad, and not having any ability to push or squeeze anything out. Every breath I took pressed my insides against the monster in me, so I was panting shallowly. The skin on my bottom and back was pulling and burning, but at least it was a distraction from the firey waves of pain spreading out from my asshole. He peered between my legs, humming approvingly, spreading me a little and poking around as clinically as a doctor.
"Look at that, all stretched and pretty. I bet I could get my whole hand up there right now, even without lube." That wrenched a sob out of me, but he'd torn me down, and all I could do was offer myself to whatever he wanted to do next. "Such a gorgeous, hot little fuckhole. I like putting things in it."
"Yes sir," I whispered. "Whatever you want, sir."
The smile I got then was reward for everything that had gone before, and he kissed me deeply, letting me suck his tongue desperately. While he was still kissing me, I felt pressure, MORE pressure, on the dildo, and realized he was turning it. Twisting it, and the ridges pressed on new places, and then it started to slide out of me. At first it felt like it was tearing my guts out with it, but then incredible, intense relief, so bone-deep it put pleasure to shame, slipped up my nerve endings to my brain, and if I'd had anything left in my empty cock and balls, I'm sure I would have come. When it finally popped out, I was left feeling emptier than I ever had in my life. Even the gush of...stuff...I could feel coming out after the huge cock couldn't lessen my relief.
"That's my boy." He laid it aside, and gently undid my restraints, lowering my arms and legs back to the bed. I sighed at the relief of strained muscles.
"Oh, thank you, sir." He's taught me the meaning of true gratitude. When you're calling the shots yourself, you can convince yourself that nice things that happen to you are at least partially your own doing. Now, I was dependent on Lance for any pleasure or happiness I felt, and each kind gesture he made locked me deeper in devotion to him.
"You're welcome, Sebastian." He turned on the bed and pulled my head into his lap, soothing me with gentle strokes of his hand. I sighed, and shuddered, and relaxed. You'd think that after twenty years, I'd be used to being naked, but it felt incredibly strange to have my penis snuggled up between my thighs again, to not feel the unforgiving press of metal there. And my ass...it was a gaping throbbing empty hole. It felt squishy and soft and swollen between my cheeks. His cum, trapped by the dildo before, was still trickling out of me slowly, mixed with my own dirty juice. I didn't think about it.
"Let's talk about Friday, okay, sweetie?" I nodded. "The guys are coming over, probably around five, and they'll stay for a couple hours of practice. We'll probably order Chinese. But just because they're here doesn't mean your rules don't apply."
"I'm gonna get to wear clothes, right?" The idea of being naked and collared and cuffed in front of Adam and James was too surreal. He laughed.
"Oh, yeah. Definitely. I don't think they're quite ready for Sebastian-the-slave-boy yet. I won't even put your belt on you, since I know Adam's gonna tackle you at some point, and I think it would be a little hard to explain, don't you?"
I giggled, burying my face in his belly. "God, yeah. I don't think he'd buy that it was something to improve my falsetto."
He snickered. "No, probably not. So, no belt. But that doesn't mean you get to touch yourself, or get hard, or play with yourself in any way. That includes humping furniture, you horndog."
"Hey," I said indignantly, earning myself a little slap on the bottom. "I don't hump furniture!"
"Yeah, but you might, considering it's two days away and you won't be having an orgasm between now and then." His voice was amused, and I twisted around to look up at him. He was grinning evilly.
"Wow. No coming at all?" Even with all I'd just been through, it hadn't really sunk in.
"Not even once. I'll milk you once in a while, just so the pressure doesn't get too bad." He patted my cheek. "Get used to it, kid. The only thing that little willy of yours is good for any more is pissing and draining your balls. I may make occasional exceptions, but I doubt it."
"Ohhhh." I sighed. The idea was strangely appealing, even as my mind recoiled from the idea of never feeling the sweet release of orgasm. "That...that's gonna be hard." Understatement of the year.
"I know you can do it." His pride and confidence was clear, and I wiggled happily. "But today and tomorrow, we'll practice. You won't be belted, and you won't leave my sight. Any attempts to touch yourself will be punished SEVERELY."
"But...what if I get hard, sir?" I was scared now, knowing full well that my control over my cock was shaky at best.
"You'll just have to ignore it." He was back to stroking my hair. "Remember, the belt is for training. Think about what you did when you wanted to get hard SO bad and you couldn't. That should help you keep things under control."
"It's like telling someone not to think about elephants, and then all they can think about is elephants," I said thoughtfully. "Knowing I'm not supposed to get hard makes me hard all the TIME. And if I know I can't come I'm gonna want it a thousand times worse."
"Exactly. Smart boy. That's kind of the idea. I expect you to obey me, Sebastian, even when it's hard. It's not supposed to be easy; if it was, I'd just leave your belt on forever."
"Oh god." I shuddered in delicious fear at the thought. "B-but you'll still do what we did before, right?"
"The milking? That's for your health. We don't want things getting all blocked up in there, after all. Did it feel good?"
"Kind of. Not really," I said wryly, and he laughed again. "It was very frustrating. It was like...I could almost get there, I was SO CLOSE, and then things started coming out but I couldn't spurt. But my balls feel a lot better now."
"I bet." He reached between my legs and fondled them for a moment, then let go of me, leaving me purring and happy. "Nice and empty, good. That should make things easier too."
"They're kind of sore," I confessed. "I don't want to get hard at all." He grinned again.
"Well, I doubt that'll last long. I know you, after all. Now, Friday. New rules." I snapped to attention quickly. "You will call me Lance, not Sir. I won't be giving you orders, and I won't be controlling your actions, not directly. But I WILL be watching you, Seb, and there WILL be consequences for your behavior. I will expect you to behave EXACTLY as if I was standing behind you with your crop, at all times, with your leash in my hand." He was so stern and serious.
"Yes sir," I whispered, terrified, and his face softened.
"We're going to have to do things a little differently than most masters and slaves, just because of who we are. I mean, I can't have you on your knees to me at the Video Music Awards, or anything. But that does not give you any more leeway than any other slave. You will behave politely and respectfully to everyone. You will never touch yourself. And you will obey my orders instantly, even if they sound like suggestions."
"Oh, yes, sir." I felt happiness bloom inside me. I'd always hated awards shows and interviews, feeling frazzled and pissed off and uncertain. Lance was going to help me, Lance would make it better. I'd never be stuck not knowing what to do again.
"Like that, do you?" His voice was rich with humor and approval, and his eyes were shining in his handsome face as he looked down at me.
"Yes sir!" He bent over and kissed me, and I whimpered against his tongue until he drew back. "Thank you so much for helping me, for working so hard to make me a better boy, for taking so much time with me." I was crying again, so overcome that I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my face, every feeling huge and spiced with the comforting pain from my back and my hole. "Thank you, thank you, I love you so much, master..."
"Oh, baby." He cradled my head in gentle hands, his own eyes a little wet, and slipped his finger between my lips. I suckled it greedily, desperate for a taste of him. "Thank you for trusting me and giving yourself to me, for taking me as your master. It's the greatest honor of my life to protect you and discipline you and care for you, and I love you more than I can say." He let me nurse at his fingertip as I wept, overwhelmed and tired, head swimming but blissfully happy.
Even an overemotional bitch bottom like me can only cry for so long, and I calmed down pretty soon, thirsty and sore and sticky. He took his finger back, smirking at my disappointed pout, and helped me off the bed. The first time I straightened my legs under me, I had to suck in a great lungful of air to keep from screaming.
"Oh my god," I said faintly. "I think you sprained me down there, sir."
His eyebrows went up. "I don't think you can sprain an asshole, Seb," he said dryly. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's a little strained, though. Why don't you go sit on the pot for a little while, I think we probably stirred you up pretty good, and I don't want you making a mess in the tub. I'll run you a bath, you're filthy."
I rolled my eyes at him. It was definitely sprained, no matter what Lance said, and it HURT to walk, and if I was filthy it was his doing. I limped with infinite care into the bathroom, and settled myself, face hot, on the toilet. The spreading of my legs made me moan and bend in half, as did the pull of gravity against my sore insides. Pretty soon a burning trickle of juice started leaking from me. Lance moved around the bathroom, filling the bathtub with steamy water and adding some salts, keeping an eye on me. When I finally straightened up, he braced me with one hand and started massaging my abdomen, gently but firmly, frowning a little as that forced more stuff down and out my throbbing hole. I squealed at the acid feeling of it against my anus, the sound tight in my throat, and he finally stopped, when nothing more came.
"I think we might have to get a little more thorough with your enemas. You should still be clean from this morning. Not your fault, kiddo, don't worry about it." He stroked my belly once more, and bent me down over my knees, wiping my cheeks and the back of my thighs and my hole with a hot soapy washcloth. Oh my GOD it hurt, but once the pain passed and I stopped struggling, it was soothing. "Okay, into the tub with you." I stood carefully, still very sore, and hobbled over to the tub. He undid my cuffs and collar with gentle hands; I needed his help to get in, and the first touch of hot water on various bits of raw skin on my body left me silent and writhing and clenching my teeth. But slowly, slowly I adjusted, and inched down into the warmth, feeling it seep into strained muscles and abraded tissue and relaxing me into a boneless puddle.
Lance was sitting on the sink, watching me, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was smiling a little. I love it when he watches me and I can tell he likes what he sees, and I turned my head against the porcelain of the tub so I could look at him, blinking slowly as all the knots and tension gradually dissolved out of my body. "Do you want to get in with me, sir?" My voice was slurred and thick in my ears.
He shook his head a little, dimples showing. "There's no room, sugar boy. Maybe I'll get a hot tub for the back deck, mmm?"
"Oh YEAH. That would freakin' rule." I was a little lightheaded from the heat. "And you could fuck me in it, and we could have parties, and you could whip me and then fuck me some more, and I could give you a massage." I closed my eyes dreamily, imagining it, his laughter tickling my ears.
"Hedonist. Are you sure you're not the one who wants a massage?"
"Yeah, but no. I mean, I want to do it. I want to make you feel good too, you're always rubbing me down and stuff, that should be my job."
"Sebastian, I also beat the living daylights out of you on a regular basis." He was incredulous.
"Well, yeah, but doesn't that make your arm sore?" It seemed perfectly reasonable to me. Suddenly I felt his lips, warm and soft, on my forehead.
"I do love you." His voice was warm, and I smiled without opening my eyes.
"Too, sir," I murmured, and drifted off into a warm comfortable haze.
Lance decided he needed to pay his bills once I was out and dried and amazingly refreshed. Bo-ring. I think sometimes he would have been an accountant if he hadn't become such a kick-ass guitar player. Of course, since I wasn't supposed to leave his sight, I was curled up at his feet reading. I'm not normally much of a reader, but I was still on X-Box and TV restriction, and there wasn't much else to do. Also, Lance thought I needed to improve my mind.
I got tired of it pretty quickly, especially since I was naked. Really naked. All I had on was my collar, and it was unsettling, feeling my penis wiggling around down there without anything holding it. Lance was ignoring me, and that was unsettling too. I leaned my shoulder against his knee, and he petted my hair absently for a minute, but then went back to punching numbers into his calculator. I sighed deeply, and got no response. I pressed myself a little harder against his leg.
"Sebastian, read your book."
"Yes sir," I mumbled. I looked back at the book in my lap, and read the same line over and over, never absorbing a word. Pretty soon I was fidgeting again. My balls itched. When they were behind the chastity plate they were low on my priority list, but now they were resting against the floor, and they itched. He wasn't paying attention...I snuck my hand down under the book, curling my fingers, giving them a long luxurious-SMACK!
I sprawled sideways to the floor, head ringing and cheek burning, and Lance had swiveled in his chair, and was looking at me evenly.
"You know better. Bad boy." Shocked, I scrambled back to his side and pressed to his leg.
"I'm sorry, sir." If I'd had any ability to do so, I'd have been hard and dripping at this show of dominance from him.
"Don't let it happen again." He stared at me a moment longer, then turned back to his work. I shook my head, clearing it, and stared at the open page, determined to concentrate. It lasted about ten minutes. My balls still itched. I was still naked. I still didn't want to read this book. Lance couldn't be enjoying balancing his checkbook, and it was my job as his devoted slave to please him.
I pressed my face to his thigh, nosing against him gently. He ignored me, and I stepped it up a little, touching his calf with my hand, tugging at his pants leg softly. I felt him tense a little, and turn the chair.
"YOU are being an outrageous brat right now. What the hell's gotten into you, Sebastian?" His voice was amused and irritated, and I looked up at him as appealingly as I knew how. I even batted my eyelashes.
"I don't know what you mean, sir. I just want to be close to my master."
"Ohhhhh. I see." He was fighting a grin. "Well, I think you're close enough. Now let me concentrate, please. I want to get these out today."
"Of course, sir." I nodded against his leg, leaving my hand on his leg. His thigh was gorgeous, but it wasn't quite enough. I slid back a little, nuzzling at his hip. His jeans smelled like fabric softener, but if I breathed deeply enough I could smell Lance.
He sighed, and threw down his pen, standing abruptly. I fell back, startled and scared, and then stood when he dropped a hand and grabbed my ear, yelping as he frogmarched me into the kitchen. I stood still, baffled, as he filled a mug with water and then grabbed the scrubber-on-a-stick I used to clean drinking glasses.
"Since you're having such a hard time sitting still, you can put all that energy to good use. Take these." I did, and he pulled me back to the computer room, leading me to the corner. "Hands and knees, now, Seb." I went down like a shot, responding to that tone in his voice like a trained dog. He set the mug and scrubber by my hand, and slapped my rump.
"Clean the floor. Do not get off your hands and knees. I want to see every inch sparkling, and Sebastian, I want it done in absolute silence." There was clear warning in his voice, and I nodded meekly, cowed and humbled. Without another word, he went back and settled at his desk.
The wooden floor of the room stretched endlessly. It was a big room, it held a pool table and bookshelves and a few comfortable chairs, as well as Lance's desk and computer. I could feel something stubborn inside me wanting to resist, to shout "no!" and run to my bed, to try to tease him into doing something more fun. For the first time I fought it, forcing my mind to accept that if this was what he wanted me to do, then my obedience might bring me as much happiness and satisfaction as sucking his cock would. I picked up the brush, dipped it in the water, and started scrubbing.
God. And I thought I'd been bored before.
[end part 10]