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  He looked puzzled, a little concerned, but that was it. Channon bit his lip hard enough it might bruise. “Isn’t it wrong?”

  “No. It’s fine.” Jack stroked Channon’s cheek with his thumb. “Sweetheart, it’s perfectly fine. So you like being stuffed with a big cock sometimes. Is that something you want every day?”

  Channon shook his head, and Jack grinned at him.

  “Okay, but maybe for special occasions?” He chuckled at Channon’s expression. “I’m not upset with you for having a kink. I mean, you’re not planning on running off with Tom, are you?”

  “No! Sir, no way.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter. It’s just a fun new kink you have, and maybe we’ll invite Tom back and see how long you can take it before you come all over yourself. And next time we’ll know to expect it, so we can come up with a particularly cruel and unusual consequence for you when you do. For fun, this time. How does that sound?”

  “Like I don’t deserve it,” Channon said, honest though he knew Jack wouldn’t like it.

  Jack clearly didn’t. “If I say you deserve it, then you deserve it.”

  “I know, Sir. I’m trying, but—”

  “But you don’t believe me.” Jack frowned. “You don’t think you’ve been punished enough, still.”

  Channon braced himself. “No, Sir.”

  “That’s disappointing. Because I thought my word was law when it came to whether or not you were deserving of punishment or reward.”

  “It is, Sir.”

  “But you want more.”

  Channon took a deep breath. “I need to be taught a lesson, Sir. So it sticks.”

  “Ah.” It seemed to be the right thing to say. Jack grinned, sitting up straight. “In that case, go get your clothes off, and meet me in the bedroom in three minutes.”

  It sent a thrill down Channon’s spine. “For a lesson, Sir?”

  “For whatever I say.” Jack tapped his wrist. “Two minutes, fifty seconds, Channon.”

  He meant it. Channon didn’t waste a second longer.

  Chapter Five

  “I don’t like it when you question me,” Jack said, watching Channon writhe on the bed.

  Channon couldn’t answer, of course. Jack had gagged him. The bit-gag made him drool, which Channon hated. Jack didn’t mind it one way or another, but he knew Channon thought it was humiliating, which was, after all, the purpose of it. Now he moaned through it, straining against the rope that tied his wrists to the headboard, helpless and desperate.

  Jack ran the magic wand down Channon’s cock, pressing it in firm at the base. Channon’s hips hitched, trying to get more pressure maybe, but he was tied up, thighs spread wide, and had nothing to gain traction against. Jack had tied his knees up against his chest in a double sling, passing a line from each thigh under the armpit and behind, back over the shoulder to anchor to the other thigh. It cinched him up into a neat fold, leaving him open and at Jack’s mercy. Which meant Jack had time to give him a lecture.

  “You should sometimes, when you think I’m actually wrong about something important in our lives. But when it comes to whether or not you deserve something I don’t want to hear an argument from you. If you disagree with me I’ll hear your evidence, but I won’t tolerate it if you question whether or not you’ve had enough. Who decides when you’ve had enough, Channon?”

  Jack ran the wand up to tease under the head of Channon’s cock for emphasis, and Channon moaned something unintelligible.

  “That’s right,” Jack agreed. “I decide when you’ve had enough. Otherwise, what happens?”

  He held the wand in place, pressing down firmly. Channon whined high in his throat, his body shaking, and Jack eased off a little, not ready for him to come just yet.

  “You end up second-guessing me, which I do not want. You can ask me for a punishment if you think you need one, but if I say ‘no’ then that’s the end of it. I won’t tolerate nagging or whining or sulking. You are not in charge of this relationship. Do you know who’s in charge of this relationship?”

  Channon mumbled something and Jack nodded.

  “I’m in charge of this relationship. And I’m going to make sure that I take care of you the way that you need to be taken care of. If that means I need to punish you, then I will. But if I don’t then I won’t let your moods dictate what I do or do not punish you for. Have I made myself clear?”

  Channon nodded, his face wrenched in delicious agony. Jack smiled.

  “Good boy.”

  He switched the wand off and knelt up between Channon’s thighs. Channon’s nipples were peaked. Jack caught one and teased it between his fingertips, pinching it until it swelled red and full.

  “This body belongs to me, Channon.” He pulled the nipple taut until Channon made a guttural sound, and then let it go. “This is mine. Like your orgasms are mine. I get to decide if you come, and how often, and whether or not you enjoy it. If I decide your body needs to be hurt then I’m going to hurt you. And if I decide that it’s going to come then you’re going to come for me. Because why?”

  The sound that came out of Channon’s throat as the clamp went on was delightful, a wet, desperate gurgle that choked off at the end.

  “Because you’re mine, and you exist solely to please me. Isn’t that right?”

  Channon stared up at him with hurt, anguished eyes, but he nodded, whimpering something that could have been a ‘yes’ if you wanted it hard enough.

  Jack smiled, pleased with him. “I knew you’d come around.”

  The second clamp made Channon whimper, but when Jack tugged on them he screamed, just a little, a choke of a thing he tried to swallow. Jack stroked the poor abused flesh pinched down between the rubber heads of the clamps, lightly teasing it, making everything worse.

  “There. Good. I think you’d had enough of a rest.”

  The look on Channon’s face was priceless.

  Jack tortured him with the wand, watching his cock jerk up, twitching into the heavy vibrations. Channon wanted more, kept trying to grind against it, but Jack made the contact deliberately unrewarding. Dissatisfying, then too much at once, then none at all. Channon whimpered and groaned, and screamed into his gag when Jack ran the wand over the clamps, hitching his hips up against nothing.

  It was beautiful. Jack watching him with this deep seated satisfaction. Channon’s distress was acceptable, delightful in fact, something fragile and perfect. How could he tolerate it? How could Channon allow this and still love Jack after, forgiving him for the torture of his body?

  It was incredible. It was everything Jack wanted.

  Now he pumped some lube onto his fingers, and ran them over the prostate massager he’d chosen especially for this. It was long, curved, with a soft, fat head designed to give him a particular kind of precision. He eased it slowly into Channon’s ass, dipping it into him in gentle, comfortable increments. This wasn’t about speed, after all. The whole idea was to make this last. In a way.

  Channon let him know when he’d found the perfect angle by canting his hips up and trying to fuck himself onto the massager. Jack grinned.

  “You can thrash around all you want, it’s not going to change anything. You’re going to come when I make you, not before.” He flicked the massager to a low hum, and watched Channon’s head roll back, listened to his muffled protests, saw the muscles of his belly clench and ripple, his cock trembling as it strained toward completion.

  Channon seemed to calm himself, his body shuddering as he relaxed, jerking against his will as he let himself go loose and pliable, no longer resisting or reaching for anything at all, just allowing it to happen. Submissive. Receptive. Passive. Doing his best, but every time Jack bussed his prostate Channon’s whole body shuddered as if he had a fever.

  Nice try.

  “That won’t work,” Jack told him, charmed by the attempt. “You’re going to come when I want you to. You can’t hold it off forever.”

  Channon squeezed his eyes shut, turning hi
s face away defiantly, and he must have been close, Jack thought, to be so willful.

  Good. It was time. He left the massager pressed against Channon’s prostate, and flicked the wand to an insistent pulse, running it up Channon’s cock to hold down under the head.

  The effect was almost instant. Channon let out a muffled wail, then his hips jerked, his belly tensing…and his cock shuddered, spilling thick white ropes on his belly. He groaned, convulsing as it coursed through him, spasming with each throb of come. Jack held the wand in place until there was nothing left, until Channon tried to writhe away from it, too sensitive to take it any longer.

  Jack grinned, satisfied. “That’s one,” he said, watching the way Channon’s eyes snapped open. Oh, his face. “Let’s see how long it takes for two.”

  ❧

  Channon was in agony as they approached the third, resisting Jack the whole way, but by now Jack knew Channon’s body as well as his own, knew how to coax him into things he didn’t know he was capable of.

  “Good boy,” he said, watching the tears stream down Channon’s cheeks. It would hurt by now, too much stimulation, but hopefully Channon had learned his lesson.

  Jack unfastened the gag, letting it fall to the bed by Channon’s wet, wide-open mouth.

  “Sir, sir, sir,” Channon sobbed, and then he dissolved into tears.

  “Almost there, Channon,” Jack said, working the massager into him to torture his poor, abused prostate. “You can give me one more, I know. Here, I’ll help,” and he tugged the chain that joined the clamps biting into Channon’s nipples, just to hear his voice crack, high and needy.

  “Please, Sir, I can’t,” Channon protested, but Jack wasn’t about to admit defeat.

  “You will because I say you will.”

  He pressed down; Channon let out an ungodly howl, head thrashing from side to side. He was close but he couldn’t grasp it, Jack could tell from the shuddering of his muscles, the way he despaired, hips moving weak and desperate.

  “Who owns this body, Channon?”

  It took several breaths for Channon to find an answer. “You do, Sir.”

  “And who decides if you come?”

  “You do, Sir.”

  “And who decides when you’ve had enough?”

  Channon was weeping freely, his voice hitching on every sob. “You do, Sir.”

  “Have you learned your lesson, Channon?”

  “Yes! Sir, please, please…”

  It would be too cruel, Jack decided, to make Channon repeat that lesson now, at his extremity as he was. Instead, Jack twisted the massager inside him, pressing it up against the knot of nerves that made Channon keen in delicious agony, and ducked his head to suck Channon into his mouth.

  Channon wailed, bucking up, and then his cock pulsed, too soft and small to do much more than leak a little thin ejaculate, but Jack felt Channon’s body spasming around the massager inside him, heard his throat crack as he cried out in painful release.

  Good boy.

  Jack pulled the massager free, unfastened the ropes holding Channon in place. Channon was bubblegum-soft, a wet, ruined mess, and Jack eased his legs down, rubbing his thighs, his calves, his wrists and shoulders.

  He stroked Channon’s cheeks, kissed his nipples and removed the clamps. Channon made a sound of pure agony, and Jack lapped at his poor red flesh, holding Channon’s wrists to the bed as he tried to squirm away.

  And then Jack took him. He was soft and slick, unable to resist. He lay there, spent and exhausted as Jack lifted his hips, wedging a pillow under them to make it easier. He sunk his cock into Channon’s body, felt the flicker of him inside as his body protested, too sensitive for this intrusion.

  But this was his and he took it, slow and gentle.

  “You’re mine,” he told Channon, low down between them. “Your body belongs to me. Your orgasms belong to me. Your punishments belong to me. Because you are mine. Because I’m yours. Even if you crave a bigger cock sometimes,” he said thrusting into Channon’s unresisting flesh, “even if you grow into new kinks I can’t satisfy, you’re still mine.”

  I’m not letting go of you unless you tell me to, Channon. Until you say the word, I’m going to do with you whatever I want.

  Channon whimpered. Jack bit down on his nipple to feel him clench. The sweetness of Channon’s complaints made him thicken, made his balls tighten, made him break, fucking into his boy and filling him with the proof of how much he was wanted, how much he was needed, when before Jack had never needed anyone.

  He shook, emptying his balls and sinking into the soft warm comfort of release. Of Channon, his to hurt and to hold, until whatever fate tore them apart.

  Never, he told himself, kissing the promise into Channon’s throat. I’m never letting you go.

  Maybe it was a promise he could keep. It was all he wanted, after all.

  ❧

  The package was sitting on the dining table when Channon came down to make breakfast on Wednesday. He eyed it curiously, but it was wrapped in plain brown paper and didn’t have a label, so he left it well alone. Still, his curiosity was piqued, and when Jack emerged it took all his effort not to ask what the box was about.

  Jack seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, but was of course too much of a sadist to tell him. “Are you home tonight?” Jack asked, accepting his coffee cup.

  “Uh, yeah?” It was an odd question. Sure, Channon sometimes hung out at Ewan and Tig’s (technically his) apartment but Jack didn’t generally need him on Wednesdays.

  “I thought you might like to spend the evening with me,” Jack said, something lurking in his expression. “We could play a game.”

  Well. Channon grinned “I like games. Should I be collared and, um, naked?”

  Jack chuckled. “It’s not the kind of game you need your collar for, but I guess clothes are optional. I do like you naked.”

  That was interesting. Channon glanced at the box, and resigned himself to a day of wondering about it.

  But when he got home the box was still on the table, and Jack brought another box out of his office and opened it up. “This,” he said with some relish, “is Dominion. You said you’ve never played it.”

  Channon shook his head. “It’s a card game?”

  “Yup. A strategy card game. Since you’ve been working on games, I thought you might enjoy it from a design point of view. Plus, it’s fun.”

  “You want to play a card game with me?” Channon didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast.

  “Don’t you like card games?”

  “I mean…I guess? I never really had anyone to play games with. Just, you know, online.”

  Jack nodded, as if he’d known as much already. “Let’s find out if you like this one. I’ll set it up while you boil the kettle.”

  It was fun. You had to build a medieval village, sort of, using cards to represent buildings and professions. And you were in competition, and you could sabotage each other. But mostly you were just trying to build the best village you could with the resources you had.

  Jack taught him the rules, and then let him make his own mistakes. He said it wasn’t about winning so much as learning the strategy. “And then, if we invite Nate and Ewan over, you can beat the pants off them.”

  Channon grinned. “Okay!” It felt good that Jack thought he might beat Nate at a game. And that Jack wanted to invite Ewan over again for something that wasn’t that kind of play.

  It was nice, too, just playing a card game with Jack. They ate mini pizzas and oven wedges and Jack didn’t even make him have a side salad. Jack also didn’t let him win, but whatever. Channon sunk himself in the game, focusing on the tactics of it, looking for interesting combinations.

  The only thing that niggled at him was that package, sitting off to one side, unopened and lurking.

  Finally, at the end of the second game, Channon couldn’t take it any longer. “Sir?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I wondered what that package was
for.”

  Jack’s eyes flickered up, brimming with amusement. “Took you long enough. It’s for you.”

  “For me?” Channon had guessed, but he hadn’t wanted to assume.

  “Yeah.” Jack leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t you open it?”

  He didn’t have to suggest it twice. Channon dragged it over and tore off the wrapping at once. As soon as he saw the picture on the box, though, he felt like he’d swallowed an eel.

  “Sir?” he said, hearing himself high and thready, this thin breathy warble.

  “You should look inside,” Jack said, clearly enjoying this.

  Channon opened it gingerly, and took out the…thing. It was long and thick, and horribly realistic. Well, not horribly, just awfully, making his gut squiggly because he knew, he just knew where this was going.

  “What do you think? Should I have got it in a flesh tone?”

  Channon made a face. “No, I…black’s good.” Because it was pitch black, rubbery, stiff-ish but bendy, and squishy to the touch.

  And a fair bit more than eight inches long.

  “Since you were worried I might feel like I couldn’t provide for you,” Jack teased.

  Channon realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it hastily, his face burning. “It’s really…big,” he mumbled.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Jack reached over to pinch the tip. “I’m going to make you come with this, and when you’re all worn out I’m going to fuck you while you’re soft and open. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  Channon breathed out, weak and shaky. “Except give you a color,” he said, glancing up at Jack.

  Jack smiled. “That’s right. Because?”

  “I’m yours,” Channon said, knowing it was true.

  “Good boy,” Jack said. He started to sort the cards into their starting piles. “Play again?”

  “If you’re up for it, Sir.” Channon stuck the black rubber dildo up on its base. It listed ominously to one side but the suction-cup held. Channon pretended it wasn’t there, reaching for the cards.

  “You know, if you win this time,” Jack said, “maybe I’ll use that on you this weekend.”