by J. A. Rock
between his nipples swung, pulling his swollen tits.
“Gingerroot,” Scott said conversationally. “Burns,
doesn’t it?”
Aiden shifted from one foot to the other as Scott
continued to fuck him with the piece of root. He didn’t
recognize the noises he was making; they were animal
sounds, beyond his control.
“This is called figging,” Scott explained. “It’s a
technique they used to use on show horses, to keep their
tails raised and make them lift their legs higher.”
Aiden clenched his ass around the gingerroot,
which only made the sensation stronger. He tried not to
throw up. Scott slipped the root out, but the burn
remained.
“Did you touch yourself?” Scott asked again.
Aiden bit down on the bar until the burn was
manageable. Then he raised his head and answered, “No
Sir.”
“You’re a stubborn little boy, aren’t you?” Scott
said. “You like to do things the hard way.”
Aiden bit back a sob and shifted onto the balls of
his feet.
“Well, we’ve got all night. And if that’s how long it
takes for me to get the truth out of you, so be it.”
He swatted Aiden’s dancing ass so hard that Aiden
momentarily forgot about the burn.
“Hold still.”
Scott slid the piece of root into Aiden’s ass and left
it there, then went back to the cutting board and sliced a
fresh piece. Aiden almost released the bar so he could
beg for mercy, but the sting was starting to lessen, as
though his body was so full of pain he couldn’t process
anymore. Maybe if he acted as though it was still terrible,
Scott wouldn’t do anything worse, and Aiden would win
this battle. He let out an experimental whimper.
Scott stood directly beside him this time, not
behind him. He stroked Aiden’s cheek. “Poor boy.
You’re going to be so sore when I fuck you later.” He
brushed away the tears that had escaped from under
Aiden’s blindfold. “You see, I don’t believe for a second
that you didn’t touch your cock.” He took Aiden’s cock—
soft and curled from the pain—in his hand. Immediately
it twitched to life. Traitor! Aiden thought, squeezing his
eyes shut. “I think you touched yourself. I think you
came. I think you’re lying to me.” Scott brushed his
thumb over Aiden’s slit, and Aiden gasped. “I don’t
think you can keep your hands off your cock—but you’re
going to learn to. Maybe your little penis is the best way
to get a message to your brain. You don’t. Lie. To me.”
Scott took the fresh piece of gingerroot and pressed
it to the head of Aiden’s cock, grinding it against the slit.
Aiden’s hips jerked involuntarily as the acid sting
flooded him. His tears came hot and fast, and he bit the
bar so hard he thought his teeth would break. Scott
rubbed the root back and forth mercilessly, abrading the
tender skin and letting the burning juice seep into the
raw spots. Aiden’s attempt to escape reawakened the
pain in his ass and made the chain pull at his tits. He let
go of the bar, straightened up, and the words poured out
of him without thought or logic: “Please, Sir, please stop.
Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please, please don’t… ”
He staggered backward and tripped over a chair.
He started to fall, unable to use his hands to catch
himself.
Strong arms grabbed him, set him upright. He
stood in the middle of the floor, blind, cowering, ass
burning, crying. Scott didn’t touch him, didn’t speak for a
while, just let Aiden stand there, exposed and
humiliated.
“What are you sorry for?” Scott asked quietly.
“I-I lied. I did touch myself.”
“I see.”
Aiden couldn’t bear the silence. “Only once. Last
week. Only once and then never again after that.” He
couldn’t stop his tears. He was disappointed in himself
for lacking the self-control to keep his hands off himself,
for lying to his master, and now for breaking down.
“Did I say ‘touch yourself only once, and then never
again’?” Scott asked.
Aiden shook his head. He wished he could wipe
his nose. Instead he had to let it drip onto his lips, his
chest. “No, Sir.”
Scott moved in close to him, cupped a hand around
the back of Aiden’s head, and said in his ear, “I said
don’t touch yourself, Shithead. Period. One simple rule
for you to follow in my absence.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Aiden repeated miserably. The
ginger still burned dully in his ass, reminding him what
a disgrace he was as a sub.
Scott yanked the blindfold off. Aiden caught a
glimpse of dark eyes and a hard, angry mouth. Aiden
dropped his gaze to the floor, wishing he could
disappear. He hadn’t even begun his training yet, and
he’d already screwed up.
Scott removed the nipple clamps and the wrist
cuffs. “Bend over.”
Aiden did.
Scott plucked the gingerroot out of his ass and gave
Aiden a swat. “Go clean yourself up. Kneel in the
bedroom when you’re done and wait for me.”
Aiden fled the room, glad for the chance to pull
himself together. He got into the shower and washed
himself thoroughly, making sure to shave the stubble on
his groin. He tried to rinse the last of the burn from his
asshole. When he got out of the shower, he felt a little
better. He’d fucked up, but he would do better the rest of
the night.
He looked in the mirror. His tits were bluish red
and puffy, but he liked the reminder of who he belonged
to. His eyes were less swollen now. He breathed in and
watched his ribs appear as his stomach contracted. He no
longer felt hungry.
For some reason, Aiden thought about Keaton
Hughes, the man with the notebook at Obey. He
wondered what kind of top Keaton was. If Keaton would
enjoy the sight of Aiden, bruised and humiliated, eager
and compliant. Aiden folded his towel, placed it on the
toilet tank, and left the bathroom.
The bedroom was warm. He knelt in the center of
the room, legs spread. Scott entered a moment later.
“Stand up,” Scott said.
Aiden did, keeping his gaze on the floor. Scott
approached with the nipple clamps, and Aiden closed
his eyes as the clamps bit into his already sore flesh. He
winced as Scott tightened the second clamp, then
immediately chastised himself. You deserve this.
Scott unclipped the chain on one side, pulled it taut
across Aiden’s chest, and refastened it. Aiden’s nipples
were now drawn toward each other. A whimper of agony
caught in his throat as he tried to move and felt the
tension in the chain. Scott grabbed his jaw.
“You still think this is a game,” Scott said. “When I
give you rules, you follow them. Whether
or not I am
present to enforce them.” He plucked the chain between
Aiden’s tits as if it was a guitar string.
Aiden yelped and doubled over.
“Is that clear?”
Aiden forced himself to straighten up. “Y-yes, Sir.”
“Get on the bed. On your back.”
Aiden obeyed.
Scott undressed and knelt between Aiden’s legs.
“I’m going to fuck your tits,” Scott explained. “Then later
I’ll fuck your ass and your mouth. And you’re going to
take it all, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Scott took hold of Aiden’s ankles and pulled him
farther down the bed. Aiden winced as the movement
made the chain vibrate. Scott held himself over Aiden
and lowered his pelvis until his hard cock brushed
Aiden’s chest. The tip of Scott’s cock glistened and left a
wet trail on Aiden’s skin as Scott slipped it under the
chain.
“Ahhh.” Aiden hissed.
“That’s right,” Scott said. “Let me hear you while
I’m fucking you.” He thrust, and his entire cock slid
under the chain, yanking Aiden’s nipples up and in.
Aiden cried out. His own cock was confused,
stiffening at the delicious feeling of utter subjugation,
then softening again as the pain became too much.
Scott fucked the chain slowly, dragging long cries
from Aiden, then faster and harder, until all Aiden could
do was gulp and gasp and beg.
He was nothing. He was Shithead. He was Scott’s
toy. That felt good to think about. Aiden’s cock twitched
again. He stopped yelling and began to revel in the pain,
closed his eyes and prepared to sail away on it.
But something wasn’t right. He didn’t feel he had
the right, or permission, to extract pleasure from his
agony. There was no support, no affection from Scott.
Scott wasn’t trying to launch Aiden into subspace—he
was trying to keep Aiden in the present, hurting.
He wants me to feel it. He’s punishing me for lying to him.
Scott finished, shooting his cum onto Aiden’s neck
and chest. Aiden didn’t feel anything—not pride at
having taken pain for his top’s pleasure, not arousal at
Scott’s inventive cruelty, not the hot, glowing shame that
accompanied a thorough and punishing fuck. He just felt
confused.
“Go clean yourself,” Scott muttered.
Aiden struggled up. Any encouragement, any
praise from Scott would have helped. If Scott had
cleaned him, for instance, or held him for a few minutes,
helped him come down from the pain. But Scott didn’t
seem inclined to touch him.
When did you get so needy? He’s training you. You’re a
slave, a piece of property. A liar and a disappointment. And you
expect him to what, cuddle you?
He got up and went to the bathroom. He cleaned
himself up and prepared for whatever was next.
Chapter Five
“Leftover onion fries in the kitchen,” Hera said,
nudging him on her way to grab menus.
“Not hungry,” Aiden said.
“You love onion fries more than life.”
“Not today.”
The last thing Aiden needed was onion fries. He
was on a strict diet. Two protein shakes a day—one in
the morning, and one in the evening. In between, he ate
very little—lean meat, fish, hummus, salad. He worked
out for two hours each night. After two weeks, he was
disappointed by how thin and weak he still looked. He
was developing hard knots of muscle on his upper arms
and his calves, but they looked almost fake—stuck on.
He missed the slender softness of his body, the gentle
definition of his muscles. He was bony and hard now.
Scott still laughed at his body, called him scrawny
and told him his ass was the only part of him worth
looking at. Sometimes Scott made him eat—a bowl of
oatmeal or soup from the floor—and Aiden hated this,
hated eating in front of Scott, hated eating more than he’d
planned to that day. To make up for it, he tried not to eat
anything except his morning protein shake on the days
he met with Scott. He spent more time at the gym those
days too.
Things with Scott had improved after the first night
of training. He’d learned to polish Scott’s boots with his
tongue, to wait in position for as long as Scott wanted
him to without moving or complaining. He could take a
thorough fucking, a savage whipping. He fetched toys
from Scott’s cabinet on command. He opened his legs so
that Scott could tease him, and he never came without
permission. Well, almost never. They were working on
that.
Spending three nights a week at Scott’s kept his ass
constantly sore. His nipples were scabbed from the
clamps, and the scabs sometimes split and oozed a clear
liquid. He was bruised, stretched, and exhausted, but he
felt great. It embarrassed him that he lived for Scott’s rare
praise—an occasional “good boy” or a reassuring hand
on his back. He was always very responsive to Scott’s
teasing, hoping he could entice Scott to go further, make
him feel good. To make love, together, just once in a
while—instead of Scott fucking him and casting him
aside.
A hand covered his eyes from behind. “Open
wide.”
He obeyed out of habit, and Hera slipped an onion
fry into his mouth. He shook free and spit the fry out.
“Cut it out,” he snapped.
“Come on. You need that fry. I never see you eat
anymore, and you look positively gaunt.”
“I do not.”
“Come to dinner tomorrow night. Kim’s cooking.
It’ll be vegany stuff, so you won’t have to worry about
messing up your figure.”
“Can’t.”
“Let me guess. Scott.”
“Yep.”
“Well, tell him I said for him to at least give you an
extra portion of gruel or something.”
Aiden gave her a tight smile. “Whatever.”
“Don’t ‘whatever’ me. I’m serious. You don’t look
good.”
“I look better than I have in a long time. Scott wants
me to be in shape.”
Hera shook her head. “Look in the mirror, dork.
You may have rock-hard abs, but you’re in lousy shape.”
* * * *
“Follow me, Shithead. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Aiden followed Scott down the hall to the bedroom,
more than a little apprehensive. Scott’s surprises tended
to be painful and humiliating.
Scott led him into the bathroom, which was lit with
candles—arranged
haphazardly,
but
attractive
nonetheless. The tub was filled with foamy water, and in
the candlelight, Aiden saw steam rising from it. Scott
pinched his bruised nipples. Aiden didn’t even
whimper. His tits were getting tougher. Scott traced old
welts on Aiden’s back, ass, and thighs. H
e rubbed
Aiden’s sides and stomach with his palm.
“Who do you belong to?” he asked.
“You, Sir,” Aiden replied.
Then Scott took Aiden’s cock and used his thumb to
spread the leaking fluid from the tip down the shaft. He
fisted Aiden’s cock and stroked slowly. Aiden’s back
arched, and he sighed, moving with Scott’s hand.
“Into the tub,” Scott said with a mild slap to
Aiden’s ass.
Aiden climbed in. The water was hot—almost too
hot—but his body quickly adjusted as he sank into the
bubbles. He secretly hoped Scott wouldn’t hurt him here.
This felt too nice, too safe. Scott sat on the edge of the tub
and lathered a washcloth. He washed the back of Aiden’s
neck, using slow, soothing circles. He rubbed behind
Aiden’s ears, and Aiden leaned into the contact, allowing
himself to sigh his pleasure as Scott ran the cloth down
each arm, scrubbing between Aiden’s fingers. Maybe this
was the preamble to some horrible torture, but it felt
damn good.
Scott had Aiden stand up. He washed Aiden’s ass
with surprising gentleness, not rubbing too hard over the
welts and bruises. He moved the washcloth between
Aiden’s legs. The warm, soapy cloth passing over his
cock and balls made Aiden’s knees shake. He couldn’t
stop himself from humping the cloth a little, and Scott let
him.
Scott squirted shampoo into his palm. Aiden
couldn’t keep back a groan as Scott massaged his scalp.
He wished this could go on forever. Scott rinsed the
shampoo out, shielding Aiden’s eyes with a clean cloth.
This embarrassed and thrilled Aiden—he hated the
feeling of helplessness, but it felt so good to be cared for.
Scott guided Aiden’s wet head to rest against his thigh.
They sat like that for a few minutes, Scott stroking
Aiden’s cheek with his thumb.
“You liked that?” Scott asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“So did I.”
This was the Scott Aiden saw only sometimes—a
little vulnerable, a little uncertain. Aiden had the sense
that Scott had wanted to please him but hadn’t been sure
how. He felt more determined than ever to be a good sub
for Scott.
Scott helped Aiden from the tub. He wrapped him
in a thick towel and backed him into the bedroom,
pushing him gently onto the mattress. The towel fell
open, leaving Aiden exposed, damp, and eager. Scott
