by Shannon West
Then he stopped and came up behind me, putting a cool hand on my overly sensitized skin. “I’m taking off the cuffs and blindfold now, Kingston, and I want you to bend over for me. Don’t come.”
Bend over for him. Could I do it? I trusted Memphis to help me, and sure enough, he did. After he took off the cuffs, he put a hand on my back and pushed me forward with a hand on my neck, while spreading my legs with his foot.
“Relax. You need more anal play. It will be one more thing for you to concentrate on while I use the flogger on you, and you need that. From now on when we play, your ass should be full at all times. Now spread yourself for me with your hands so I can prepare you.”
My face burning with humiliation, I put my hands on my ass cheeks and pulled them apart. After the blindfold, the light hurt my eyes, so I kept my face down in the covers, my breathing harsh. Then I heard a thump on the bed beside me and opened my eyes, angling my head. A large butt plug lay on the bed by my head. I’d never let the other Doms use these on me before—hard limit. It was too intimate, too private, too humiliating. Too…much.
I made a hoarse sound and would have risen, but Memphis’s hand was still on my back. “Relax. I’m going to use plenty of lube.” A moment later, slippery fingers teased up and down my crease, and my legs got so weak, I wasn’t sure if they’d hold me up when I stood back up again. Then Memphis reached beneath me and grasped my cock and gave it a few hard pulls. I squealed a little—hell, I couldn’t help it—and that’s when he slid the first of two fingers inside me. I froze, clenching my ass around the digit, as Memphis bent over me, crooning in my ear, telling me I had to relax to allow the fingers to stretch me. He gave my dick another few strokes and to my surprise, it was already as stiff as a pole and leaking again.
“You’re doing fine,” he murmured to me, sliding his hand slowly up and down my cock as he pushed and stretched my hole. I didn’t know which direction to move in, so I just groaned and tried to go both ways at once. I got a stinging slap on my ass for my trouble. ‘Relax. I’m doing this. Let go and let me handle it.”
I let out a whoosh of breath and sagged down into the mattress, feeling helpless but more excited than I could remember being in a long time. He was right—every thought I had now was on those fingers in my ass and the hand wrapped around my cock. There wasn’t room in my head for anything else. He sank another finger in me, stretching and twisting. This seemed to go on for a long time and just when I thought I might not be able to stand it any longer, he pulled his fingers out and I felt the head of the plug touch my fluttering hole. As Memphis pushed it inside me even farther, I began to breathe hard and my hips started to buck. Another slap stopped that pretty quickly.
“I said relax. Open yourself and let me fill you. Once I ease it inside, the ring of muscles at your entrance will help keep it in.” He gave it a last push with his hand and it touched my prostate, lighting me on fire. I gasped and let out a groan at the feeling of fullness. I didn’t even notice how much I was thrusting into the slick grip of his hand. He encouraged it, squeezing his fingers around me and pushing against the base of the plug.
“You like being plugged. Good. Now stand back up carefully—don’t let it slip out.”
I did as he asked, letting him help me and moving like an old man. He got me back on my feet and cuffed me to the poles again. “Remember, you can’t come. No matter how much you want to.”
I groaned and he kissed the back of my neck again. “Is this too hard for you, fireball? Do you want to stop?”
I shook my head, but why did he keep calling me that name? It was kind of hot and sexy and humiliating all at once, and that was probably my answer right there.
“No, Memphis, it’s not too ‘hard’ for me, and stop calling me that stupid name!”
He reached for my mouth with one hand and my throat with the other, wrapping his big hands around both and squeezing tight. My grunt of surprise vibrated against his palm.
“Listen up. Only two things are allowed to come out of that mouth of yours—you can answer my questions. You can use your safe word. But that’s it. No more sarcasm. No more remarks. My name is definitely not allowed, though you can use the word Master in response to a question. Your smartass comments aren’t helping either of us. They’re breaking my concentration and making you lose your focus. And I won’t give you more pain because of them either. I’ll walk away and leave you here tied naked to the bedpost with a plug in your ass and your hands tied, and I’ll go watch a game on tv. In other words, you’ll be here in a time out while I’m not paying you any of my attention.” He gave me another squeeze. “Now are we clear?”
I nodded frantically and coughed as he let me go. I felt shocked. I slumped against the rigging as he slapped my ass. “Good. Now submit properly. Who’s in charge here, boy?”
“You are, Master,” I said, beginning to believe it for the first time, but still feeling defiant.
“Damn right.” He grabbed my face and thrust his tongue inside my mouth, plundering around for a while, and then biting my lip as he withdrew. I whimpered again, half startled pain and half pleasure.
“Now let’s make it interesting.” He threw down a round device known as a ball stretcher along with some iron weights on the bed, and I gasped in surprise. The ball stretcher would gradually apply pressure to my scrotum, pulling it downwards and away from the body. Cock and ball torture.
The cock and balls area is full of sensitive nerve endings, and mine just begged to be played with at the sight of that stretcher. My breathing got heavier in anticipation. Stimulating my balls with CBT would cause waves of endorphins to be released. The effect would be similar to that of morphine or codeine in my bloodstream, and the result when Doms had used CBT on me in the past had been an incredibly intense natural high.
I loved it and had often begged the Doms at the clubs to use it on me. They mostly did, but never enough. Not nearly enough for me, and that made me feel superior to them. They couldn’t break me no matter how hard they tried. I had to be the one to tell them what to do to even come close to giving me what I needed. I wondered how Memphis would stack up. Would he be enough? I almost felt smug thinking about how I was going to impress him.
Memphis pulled my balls through the stretcher and attached the weights. I felt the torturous ache immediately. The weights dangled down almost to my knees, and set up a dull, constant throbbing. The idea was to restrict the testicles from moving upwards at the point of climax. The resistance felt would make an orgasm extremely intense. Then too, the lower down the testicles are, the farther the cum had to travel, prolonging this intensity. My eyelids fluttered and I moaned again in anticipation. I started sweating some. The pain and tension began to consume me, leaving no room in my head for anything else. Yes! Finally, this was what I’d been craving. I needed more. More…
He struck me with the braided flogger right on my balls, and the pain almost took my legs out from under me. I screamed—because I sure as hell hadn’t been expecting it and no one had ever hit me there before. I glanced up at him in shock. He looked back down at me and raised one eyebrow. “Want another one?”
I did. With my balls stretched like they were, the pain was exquisite. Even the slightest touch on this area that was meant for pleasure was now painful and he had struck me with a flogger. I nodded, and he struck me again. I managed not to scream, only grunting with the pain this time. He rewarded me by hitting me again. Harder. Then he added another weight, rubbing his hand over my stretched scrotum and making me moan with pain.
“Tell me how this feels, fireball.” He struck me with his hand and the pain was so bad the world grayed out for a second or two. I curled my hands into fists and shifted my legs. He struck me again. “No, you don’t. Stand still and take it, and answer my question.”
“Hurts.”
“I know it hurts. But how what does it do for you? Concentrate now. Open those pretty eyes and look at me.”
“It-it…” He struck me again and I cou
ld barely breathe for the pain. I cried out and then tried to focus on his question. He was asking me to tell him something and I had to answer, though my brain was foggy.
“I-I can’t…can’t think. Can’t do anything but feel this. Oh, God, it hurts so bad,” I sobbed then, and he stroked my cock with his hand, and it felt like my brain shorted out. “I can’t-can’t run away from it. Can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. Oh, Sir…help me. I…please. Help me.”
“Do you want to use your safeword? Use it if the pain gets to be too much.”
“No!” I shouted stubbornly. I didn’t use safewords. I’d never used my safeword!
I cried out as the flogger began to land on first one ass cheek and then another. It hurt so damn much it brought quick tears to my eyes, but I wanted to take it, to show Memphis I could be strong for him. Over and over he struck me. I lost count of how many times. Each time the flogger landed on my ass or my thighs, it jarred the weights and send fresh waves of agony through me. Then when I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, when I’d have to use my safe word, have to give in to the pain, he moved to my shoulders and started there for a while, allowing me to almost catch my breath. I lost count of the strikes after a few seconds and started to slip into that zone where nothing mattered anymore. The pain was there, and as real as it got, but distant and not a part of me. I had receded into myself, the bite of the flogger bringing tears to my eyes and cries from my throat, but never the word to make it stop. I was too strong for that. I could control it. Couldn’t I? Couldn’t I?
Then Memphis hit my scrotum directly with the flogger again. I screamed and burst into stormy tears. Something unraveled inside my chest. My ass still was stuffed and stinging and my scrotum hurt so much I felt like I might pass out. My ass and shoulders were a mass of pain and all I could do was sob. I wanted to come. I wanted to scream. I wanted this pain to stop! This wasn’t anything I could do by myself anymore. I needed Memphis to help me.
“R-Red, Sir! Red! Red! Red!”
He threw the flogger down and immediately knelt between my legs and cut the weights. That was a bad moment as the blood rushed back in, and I screamed again as he supported me and I cried like a baby, and I didn’t give a damn. He took off the stretcher and threw it on the floor, then uncuffed me and eased me down to my stomach to take out the plug. All the while, I was sobbing into the comforter and reaching for him, and he was murmuring sweet, comforting words to me. He lay down beside me and held me close as I clung to him, whispering and crooning in my ear and stroking my hair. He kept telling me how proud he was of me and how good I was, and after a while, I could feel my cock rising again. His other hand stroked down my back and rubbed my ass, rubbing in the pain and the burn. I began to ache with the need to feel him inside me.
“I-I’m sorry!”
“What are you sorry for, baby?”
“For using my safeword.”
“Are you kidding? I’m so damn proud of you. You used your safeword because it was too much. You asked me for help. It’s not a sign of weakness—it takes a strong man to know his limits and admit them.”
“Then make love to me now,” I begged. “Please.”
“No. You still don’t get to come, because you’re still being punished.”
I sagged in his arms and tried to nuzzle my nose into his throat. “Please, Sir. I’m begging you.”
He sighed and sat up, shrugging off his shirt. He slipped down his pants and underwear in one go and then lay down on his back and held out his arms. “Come here,” he said and I crawled over to him and collapsed on top of him.
I heard myself groaning, whether from lust or pain, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe some strange mixture of both. I got up on my knees over him and nuzzled against the warm flesh of his balls. The smell of his arousal hit me hard and made me want to give him pleasure. His heavy, thick cock was right in front of me, and I couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the head.
I felt Memphis’s hands in my hair, and then he yanked hard, bringing tears of exquisite pleasure to my eyes. I actually held still, hoping for another tug on my hair and he gave it to me, though not as forcefully as before.
“If you want more, you have to earn it, fireball,” he said softly, and just like that, I wanted nothing more than to show Memphis how sorry I was for things I’d done and how very much I wanted to do better. I eagerly took his cock in my mouth, dragging my lips slowly down and then back up to the head where I kissed it with an open mouth, using plenty of tongue. The first time I delved inside his slit with the tip of my tongue, I felt him tremble.
“More,” he said, widening his legs.
I pulled off with a little plop and looked up at him, searching his expression with my eyes. “Am I doing it right? Do you—do you like it?” I had to know. I was seeking his approval, just like I did with everyone, but somehow this was different. It meant more to me.
He glanced down at me and for the first time, his lips curved gently upward. “Yeah I do. You’re doing it perfectly. You’re perfect. You always have been.”
A bolt of pleasure ran through me and I bent eagerly to my task again. I moved up and down Memphis’s shaft with my lips, careful to tuck them in and not touch him with my teeth. Then he grabbed my head with his hands, holding me there, and his voice was trembling.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth, fireball. But don’t you dare come, do you understand? I want you to feel how hard you make me. I want you to do this for me.”
“Yes,” I breathed, the word only a mumble of pleased assent around his rigid cock. Memphis began to move, thrusting down my throat. The first hard thrust almost gagged me, but he pulled back, allowing me to recover before he surged into me again. I opened my mouth wide and tried to be still. My mouth was only a receptacle now, but I took pleasure in knowing I was doing this for Memphis. And that by doing it, I was helping to redeem myself in his eyes a little bit. I was submitting to him and allowing him to use me for his own pleasure, because I was his.
His thrusts had become shorter and harder. I could feel the precum leaking onto my tongue and I tried to swallow it, but it became too much. With a groan he pulled out of my mouth and pumped his fist over his cock, spurting his creamy cum all over my face and chest. I opened my mouth to catch some of it and swallowed it down. The musky, salty taste was strong, but I was hungry for it. I leaned forward and began to lick the few drops of cum that had landed on Memphis’s groin and on his stomach.
He allowed me a few seconds of licking him clean and then he pulled gently away, patting me on the head. He fell back on the bed and regarded me silently, his face no longer stern. I crawled blindly back up the bed toward him as the urge to come suddenly was insurmountable, and I didn’t think I could hold back another second. My cock ached so much, and I wanted him so much. He caught me in his arms and held me close as I ground my cock against his leg, still needing.
“I can’t!” I cried out as I was pressing my body urgently up against his. It was too much. I could feel his hot, damp skin on mine. I didn’t know if I could keep from coming apart. I needed him to help me not come apart! “Please, Sir, I ‘m going to come!”
“No, you’re not. You’ll hold it back for me. Because I told you not to come and I know you want to please me.”
I couldn’t. The pleasure and the pain were tearing me apart. I couldn’t stop the tears that were running down my cheeks. “No, please. Help me!”
“You can do this, baby,” he said softly in my ear. I could hear myself making little kitten-like mewling sounds, and I couldn’t seem to stop. “We can do anything together.”
He held me close while I gasped and sobbed and didn’t come. And I suffered for him. Because he wanted me to, and because I needed to. I was his and he was mine. My friend, my lover, my Dom, my everything. Just like he’d said.
I had made the conscious decision to be his. To let him take control. I’d been fighting it—fighting him—for a long time. Maybe since the first time I’d seen him. But I knew it was final
ly time to give in and surrender, both to him and to myself, and to trust him to take control. And that moment—that moment of acceptance and surrender—it wasn’t when life as I knew it was over.
It was when it finally, finally began.
Chapter Eight
Kingston
One Month Later
Life isn’t about survival of the fittest. Nope, it’s about those of us who can learn to change ourselves. Change is vital, because it means that those who adapt to all the things that life throws at us are the ones who will ultimately survive to go on and fight another day.
I’m paraphrasing, but that’s basically what Charles Darwin’s theories said, according to my Biology professor. And who am I to argue with the man who was teaching me the Theory of Evolution? Yeah, change was what it was all about, according to old Darwin and Professor Jenkins—and, to bring it a little closer to home—Memphis Sawyer. Above all else, changing some of my behavior was what Memphis was most interested in. Over the last few weeks we’d been together, he had changed my diet, changed my workout ethic, changed my study habits, and had tried to change my—according to him—piss-poor attitude. That was obviously still a work in progress, hence this bullshit punishment I was currently enduring.
And it was all supposed to make me evolve into a better person. Or I should say, one who didn’t feel the need to carve up his skin when things didn’t go according to plan.
