Beautiful boy (21 page)

I swallowed to try to moisten my suddenly dry throat and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My heart pounded and stomach twisted. I tried to remember how to simply breathe.

“Easy, boy.” Master’s voice drifted through my mounting panic. “Easy. Close your eyes,” he ordered, and I immediately complied. “Good boy. Who am I?”

“My Master,” I answered without hesitation.

“And who do you have to please?” One of his hands slid over my sore ass.

I jumped slightly. “You, Master.”

“Exactly, boy. No one else matters.” He squeezed my ass. “You’ll do wonderfully. I already know you’ll please me, boy. Focus on me, only me.”

I took another breath and let it out, my heart slowing. “Yes, Master. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, beautiful boy.” He kissed my cheek and I calmed a little more. He moved around in front of me. “Look up at me, boy.”

I did as he bid, meeting his gorgeous dark eyes. “Yes, Master?”

“I need to know you’ll use your safewords if you need to.”

My gaze darted behind him to the assembled group.

“No. They don’t matter. We talked about this, didn’t we? Does it mean you fail if you use it?”

I looked back at him and, after a few seconds, shook my head. “No, Master.” I took another deep breath. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, boy. I’m going to push you tonight. But I need to trust that you’ll stop me before I go too far. I don’t plan to, but if I do….”

“I’ll use them, Master.”

“Good.” He smiled at me and tweaked one of my nipples. “I’m going to take your harness off. I want access to this gorgeous skin. Keep the plug in, got it?”

“Yes, Master.” I stood still as he worked the straps off me, doing my best not to groan when he jiggled the plug to pull the straps out. I was grateful for my previous nervousness. My cock had gone soft, making it easier on Master to remove the ring and that portion of the harness. Finally, I was completely naked.

“Over here, boy,” he said, guiding me backward into the frame. From this angle, I had no way to see the things Master had pulled out of his bag. I had no idea what he was going to do, and the lack of knowledge made my cock twitch.

Once I was in place, he wrapped his thick, padded leather cuffs around my wrists and hooked them to the top of the frame. I grabbed onto the handles, more for something to hold on to than for any real need. Next, he wrapped similar cuffs around my ankles, pulled my legs wide, and fixed them to the bottom of the frame. Spread as I was, I couldn’t move much at all.

Anticipation coiled in me, and my cock was already filling. I kept my gaze lowered to the floor, ignoring the audience in front of me. I focused instead on where Master was, listening to his movements.

The click of a cap reached my ears, then Master’s hand was on my balls. He spread something over them, and a few seconds later, the burn hit, spreading fast. I gritted my teeth as I tried to deal with the sudden pain. Master’s fingers were on my cock next, but all my focus was on the agony in my sac. I looked down, unsurprised to see my cock had hardened completely. I’d always reacted well to pain in my genitals, though I’d never tried putting Icy Hot on my balls before.

Apparently, burning was a pain I liked too.

“Let your sounds out, boy. I want to hear them. They get me so hard,” Master said in my ear, and I unclenched my jaw and let the moan out. “Better.”

He swatted my ass lightly, pulling a grunt from me, then came around, holding something metal. He wrapped it around my sac, which stretched the skin, making me grunt again. Then he closed the cuff, and when he let go, it pulled, hanging heavy between my legs.

Next, he placed a leather cock ring around my cock and balls. He fastened it tight, tighter than usual, and blood surged to my cock, filling it even further. I whimpered a little, the three days of tease and denial making this way more frustrating than it would have been otherwise.

Master squeezed my burning balls, adding that pain to the mix, until he pulled a soft cry from me. He fisted his hand in my hair and pulled it, leaning in. “How does that feel, boy?”

“Hurts,” I grunted, back bowing with the strain.

“Good,” he murmured. Then he wrapped his hand around my cock and stroked it several times as I struggled with the pleasure that bloomed fast. “No coming, boy,” he reminded me, and I grunted my acquiescence. He kept it up, pulling me close to orgasm ridiculously fast, until I cried out again, struggling to hold my climax back.

He let go and slapped my cock hard. I grunted as pain shot through it, but the burn in my balls overshadowed the pain from the slap. My entire groin still felt like it was on fire, and every hit only seemed to make it worse. He slapped my cock again, sending it all swinging.

Abruptly, he stepped back, and I swayed a bit in my binding. I gasped, panting with the pain. I realized I’d forgotten about our audience. I’d been so focused on Master and what he was doing to me.

I couldn’t hold on to that thought, though. Because on the heels of it, Master’s crop came down on my balls. I sucked in a breath, but before I could deal with that hit, he did it again, several times, then up on the underside of the head of my dick, then back to my balls. Every hit intensified the burn, keeping me in a pain so huge, I couldn’t think of anything except it and Master.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew that was the point.

Master shifted his attention to my sensitive inner thighs. He left sharp hits down one side, then up the other. Then he did it again, my cries falling freely now. “Good boy,” Master murmured in my ear. He cupped my balls, massaging them, the burn flaring brighter. “So good.” He let go only to slap them, then cup them again and squeeze.

I whimpered, the pain shoving my need close to the edge again. I lost track of the dungeon, Master’s hands and voice the only things I could focus on.

Until he stepped back again and the first hit from Master’s flogger landed on my stomach. The stingy falls surprised a grunt out of me. The next hit was harder, as was each one after. He covered my stomach and chest, catching my nipples once, making me shout. Then Master aimed at my thighs. Those strikes landed over the crop ones from earlier, the sharp pain making me cry out again. After he’d pulled several more cries from me, he shifted his attention once more, and the flogger came up between my legs to hit my balls.

That caused another shout and precum to leak. I couldn’t decide what was pulling my attention more, the need to come or the pain in my balls. In the end, it didn’t matter, one fed the other and back again. My frustration was downright painful, my full, heavy balls hurting with the need to empty. The burn from the Icy Hot and the fresh series of flogger hits only made me need to come more.

Master set the flogger down and picked up the strap I’d seen in his bag the week before. It looked a lot like a belt without a buckle, quite thick and probably two inches wide.

And it stung like a bitch when it landed on my stomach. I shouted again, swaying in the frame.

“That’s it, boy, so good,” he rumbled in my ear. “You’re doing wonderfully.” He tugged my head back by my hair again, dark eyes searching my face. “Oh, yes,” he said, though I didn’t know what he saw that prompted it. He let go of my hair, then brought the belt down again, this time on my leg. He gave one to the other, then shortened it and focused on my cock. I couldn’t hold in the shouts over these strikes for anything. He gave me several, and when I looked down, my rock-hard cock was so dark, it looked purple. The veins stood out in sharp relief, and precum flowed constantly.

“So hard, aren’t you?” Master asked, and the note of evil in his voice made my balls try to draw up. “Bet you want to come badly, don’t you?”

I whimpered a yes.

“No, not yet. I’m not
nearly
done with this yet,” he said, then gave another hard slap to my cock.

I grunted, sucking in a breath when Master stepped away again.

When he came back, he held a bag I hadn’t seen before. I wasn’t sure what it was until he pulled a clothespin out. The wooden kind with a metal spring.

The first one he put on my left nipple, drawing another cry from me. It bit into the sensitive skin around the ring. I knew the pain from these wouldn’t last long. The pain when Master took them off would be the hardest.

He put one on my other nipple, then took another one out, this one with a string on it. I grunted hard when he clipped it to the side of my dick. He added another and another, putting them close together until they ran the entire length. He skipped the head and went down the other side, yet again close together the whole way.

I was moaning pretty much constantly by this time. Now I couldn’t tell if the pain in my cock was worse, or if the burning in my balls was. It didn’t much matter because in that moment, my brain flipped that little switch, and I rocked
forward
instead of back, as the pain was now truly pleasure.

The dungeon faded completely, and the only things I knew were the delicious pain in my groin, the sound of Master’s voice as he told me how good I was, and the constant underlying need to come. Master let the end of the string hang and added clothespins to my balls next, seeming to fit them anywhere he could. My balls were
covered
with them, tons of tiny little pinching pains. Last, he placed five on the head of my cock, two on each side and one over my tip, pinching the slit closed, just above my PA.

He set the bag aside, walking around me, leaving the clothespins in place. The pain from the pinching, on top of the hits I’d taken, on top of the burn, was awesome. My sounds had become one long moan, my hips rocking without my orders.

I thought I was going to explode. I was close again, the edge of orgasm teasing me from the pain.

Master must have seen it in my face. “No coming, boy. Not yet. I’m not quite done with you.” Then he chuckled darkly, flicking at the clothespins on my balls. I grunted in reaction and got another chuckle. “What goes on… must come off.”

I think I let out a garbled version of “Master,” though I couldn’t be sure.

He didn’t take them off right away, though. He continued to tease me, knocking the pins around a little so they pulled on my skin but didn’t fall off. I whined, the anticipation almost worse than the pain. In reaction, he did it again, brushing the ones on my balls, then up to my nipples, then back down to my dick. He tugged lightly on a few, pulling on the skin enough to hurt but not come loose. My moans got louder.

With another dark chuckle from Master, the pin on my left nipple came off. Then he pinched it hard, bringing the blood back, and I shouted. He did the same to the other, then before I could deal with that, yanked one off my balls, bringing another sound from me.

One by one, he pulled them like this, making sure I felt each bite as they came off. By the time they were all gone from my sac, my balls were one big bundle of pain. And my dick was harder than ever. I bucked toward Master, unable to stop moving, need and pain pushing me along that bright edge, dancing the line between agony and orgasm.

The next two clothespins to go were the two toward the back on the sides of my cock head. These pulled cries from me, made louder when Master yanked the other two almost brutally. Then, to add insult to injury, he squeezed the pin on the very tip tighter until I cried out again.

He leaned in close and murmured, “Do
not
come, boy.”

I whimpered some form of affirmative answer, but coherent speech was long gone. Master apparently understood because he stepped back, and a second later, a line of fire tore along my dick, up one side and down the other. I shouted, bucking, as the pain pushed me right to the precipice of my climax.

I struggled hard to hold it back, my cock jumping, as Master moved around me. I couldn’t tell what he was doing. I knew he was close. I needed—needed him, needed to come, needed just a little more pain, a little more of something,
anything
.

I felt the plug shifting in my ass, and I clenched my muscles in reaction. “Let it go, boy,” Master murmured.

I relaxed and the plug disappeared. A few seconds behind that, Master’s cock nudged my hole, and I bore down to let it in.

But oh
God,
it was almost too much. My ass so full, my painful balls swollen and heavy from denial, tight from the cuff and need, my cock on fire and harder than I could ever remember it being.

Then Master started thrusting.

I don’t know when I started crying. But Master moaned into my ear. “Look at you. Look at those gorgeous tears. So far gone, so beautiful, so good.”

I
felt
good, felt beautiful, Master’s voice and praise filling me. I rocked what little I could, trying to give to Master, but he held my hips still and kept control.

“What do you need, boy?”

I moaned, words still too far away from me.

Master thrust hard, pegging my prostate, and startling a cry from me. “What do you need, boy?” he asked again.

I struggled to cobble my wits together so I could answer. “To… come!”

“Mmm” was his only reply. He pumped hard, though, a little faster, and I thought I was going to go crazy with my need. He nipped at my neck, right above my collar as if he was reminding me of it. Then he reached around and ran his fingers lightly over my balls before squeezing them again.

I moaned in need, rocking back onto Master’s dick, forcing him to pull on my sac. He obliged, pulling harder, squeezing tighter, sending newer pain through my groin. Another shout left me, and he rewarded it by pulling harder, then squeezing once more.

“So gorgeous, boy,” Master rumbled in my ear as he thrust, filling my ass and hitting my prostate again and again. He let go of my balls and held my hips once more. Then he spoke, louder than before. “Who do you belong to, boy?”

I heard something in his tone I’d only heard that sharply once before, but recognized well. Possessiveness. Somewhere deep inside, I knew it was important I answer this with words, so I gathered enough brain cells to give him what he wanted.