Miles
Miles came back to himself whole, unbroken. He wouldn’t wane under Jordan’s dominance, and he would make him pay for his cruelty.
He was soaked in cum, the potent smell overtaking all his senses. He felt Jordan unwrapping his cock from the bands and unhooking the flat pad that had sent jolts of electricity into his taint. Miles still spasmed sporadically, as if he were still being tortured. His body hadn’t yet understood it was all over.
The knowledge that his cock would soon be locked in chastity angered Miles to no end, but he had played his part graciously. He had been more submissive than he had ever been, thanking Jordan for his punishment, screaming and begging, but never resorting to insults or threats.
He suspected it wasn’t enough, and that the next few days would be crucial if he wanted to ensure his success in gaining his tormentor’s trust.
Miles listed everything Jordan did, and planned to do the same to him in return.
Some of Jordan’s ideas were great, but Miles had been researching ways of making his future captivity even more taxing.
He would be caged, that was a given, but he had seen chastity cages with catheters. He remembered Jordan talking about them succinctly, though he wasn’t sure. They seemed perfect to remind Jordan of his status as a slave every waking hour.
He was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Jordan returning with a basin containing soapy water. He applied a warm, drenched cloth to his skin, wiping the cum off his abs and pecs, and then thoroughly wiped his balls and dick.
Of course, he wouldn’t unbind him before caging him. It was too much of a risk.
This clearly meant Jordan’s trust wasn’t absolute.
“How are you feeling?” Jordan asked, surprisingly caring.
“Fine, sir,” Miles lied, smiling weakly. “Thank you.”
“You’ve been a really good boy today.” Jordan caressed his face, his hand still bearing the smell of cock and cum. “I know it was harsh, but I won’t have to do it again if you behave. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.”
Once his cock was clean, Jordan placed the ring of the cock cage around Miles’s balls and locked the tube in place. The snugness was familiar and horrifying; his cock was already pressing against its prison, angry at the unfairness of it all.
The small circles Jordan made on Miles’s sensitive balls were nice, especially after he had endured such a long, punishing session. It had been painful, too intense, but there was pleasure in it, too. Maybe he would do it again if he had the choice, albeit not as intensely.
Miles shook his head no.
No, he wouldn’t do it again. The experience was humiliating, and once he was free of his bounds, of Jordan’s control, once he’d had his revenge, he would leave all of that bullshit behind.
What Miles could take away from the experience was that he didn’t care who he fucked anymore.
The idea of dicks and hairy holes didn’t deter him as much as it had before he’d met Jordan. It only unveiled new horizons that he would gladly sail to. He pictured his fat cock stretching a cute twink, who’d be begging for more once Miles was done rearranging his insides.
But the first man he wanted to ravage was Jordan. Miles would plant his flag in him, slap the grin off of his beautiful face, use him, and then discard him.
The restraints were unfastened, and Miles was finally able to move. He massaged his wrists and ankles, stretched his sore muscles, and stayed seated at the edge of the bed in silence for a short while. His elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, he took a breather while Jordan showered.
He heard the water splashing, imagined Jordan’s glistening body, which resulted in an impromptu erection.
Fuck.
He got to his feet, found his clothes, but knew Jordan would expect him to ask for permission to leave. So, he sat on the couch and waited patiently. He memorized the shape of the chastity cage, including its seams and locking mechanism. It was unnatural to be locked, and he still didn’t enjoy the concept.
Miles enjoyed many of the things Jordan did to him, even if it was still painful to admit.
But chastity wasn’t something he would get used to any time soon. His circumcised head peeked at him, his yearning slit bulging out of the cage. His balls rested under their prison, emptied but heavy with frustration.
He hadn’t been stroked to orgasm, he had been shocked to it.
All in all, he had been Jordan’s slave for nine days, meaning his captivity would last another six days. Jordan would assuredly make the most out of them.
Miles shuddered.
He had to remain compliant. He had to play the game so Jordan would lower his guard; he would be easier to beat this time. He wouldn’t expect Miles to have any fight left in him.
Miles had been too confident in his ability to take the other man the first time around, but he wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice. He winced at the thought, clutching a pillow over his chest.
“Are you having a good rest?” Jordan asked when he came back, smelling fresh and looking as gorgeous as ever. “You deserve it.”
The soft kiss he placed on Miles’s forehead was disconcerting. It was as if another person had stepped out of the shower, a gentle man who wouldn’t harm a fly.
This was all a charade, part of the play.
Jordan was a sadistic fucker who reveled in torment, or at least, that’s what Miles believed until he caught actual care in his stare. Jordan sat beside him, hair still damp, a towel around his waist. He switched on the TV and settled on a football match, his legs outstretched and his feet crossed on the coffee table.
Miles decided it was time to prove his worth as a subservient slave, and edged toward the other man, crawling into his lap.
“Hey, boy,” Jordan said, setting down the remote. “What are you doing up there?”
“I need you, sir,” Miles said, his cock already trying to break out. “I want you to fuck me.”
“You do?”
Jordan’s tone translated his surprise, and his eyes burned with a quiet passion Miles found was most attractive. It wasn’t the primal and ferocious look Jordan would throw at him during their training sessions; it was different, tender almost.
“I do.”
Their tongues clashed wetly. Jordan’s hard cock was already pressing against Miles’s ass, and he ground into him slowly, his fingers digging into his hips. Miles rocked back and forth, never breaking the kiss, razor-focused on how submissive he had to appear. He moaned and pleaded a little. He asked for cock, for cum.
“You’re my boy,” Jordan declared, lips slightly parted. “Only mine.”
“You own me, sir,” Miles replied, reaching for Jordan’s balls. “I’m still open, you just need to slide in.”
As if Jordan had been waiting for permission, he let his cockhead rest against Miles’s too tender hole, and thrust into it. He let Miles impale himself at his own pace, allowing him to adjust to his girth and length without forcing his way in.
It hurt a bit because Miles’s abused hole had already endured a lot today. But he willed himself to continue, to lean into Jordan’s touch. His muscles tensed, and he squeezed his hole around Jordan, no matter how difficult it was, or how much it burned. He was happy to hear his top moaning and grunting, unequivocally enjoying the sensation.
“Do you like my hole?”
Miles intentionally dropped the “Sir” in that moment, wanting to test how far gone Jordan was.
“It’s the best hole I’ve ever had,” Jordan admitted, licking his neck lovingly. “I want you to stay, I want you to stay with me.”
The affection those words carried outweighed how possessive they would’ve sounded before. For the first time, Jordan seemed inherently brittle, as if his tough exterior had melted at the simple act of submission Miles had displayed. Miles faltered; his hatred gone as he observed the panting mess that had become Jordan. He was more open than he had been when he was in control, vulnerable. It almost made up for all the things he had done, and prompted Miles to rethink his entire revenge plot.
He gave himself a mental slap, unwilling to be swept by his own expectations.
Jordan will never accept you as his equal.
You need to break him, to use him, just as he did.
“I’m yours. I just need more training. I know I need to do better. I don’t want to disappoint you again,” Miles said, fucking Jordan faster.
“You’re perfect to me,” Jordan confessed, his hands coursing over Miles’s body passionately. “I mean, look at you, I’ve never seen a guy so beautiful. I want to pump you with cum every single day.”
“Please, I want that.”
“I won’t be as harsh. I won’t need to be if you’re mine.”
His voice was like a plump fruit that would be too ripe to hold; part of Miles wanted to crush it into his palm and turn it to pulp. But another part of him felt the need to reach out and kiss Jordan tenderly.
The shadow of everything he had been put through mere moments ago was unimportant and unrelated to all that was unfolding.
It was two different sides of their relationship, one that Miles resented with a passion, and another he wished would become the norm.
He had never wished to be with a guy, but having Jordan buried at the hilt inside him was making him reconsider everything. Seeing him so relaxed and willing to be used prompted Miles to consider a different approach to claim Jordan as his own slave.
Instead of using violence and punishment, he might resort to more insidious methods; he might use Jordan’s apparent need to be worshipped, his willingness to yield under the slightest ounce of appreciation.
The cock inside him swelled, more precum moistening the walls of his hole. Miles quickened his movements, pinching Jordan’s perked up nipples in the process.
“Shit,” Jordan hitched, lost in Miles’s gaze. “I knew you’d come around.”
Miles smirked under the pretense of shyness.
“It’s still a lot of getting used to,” he stared down at his locked cock.
“I only had to do it because you went behind my back.” Jordan stuck a finger in his mouth and gently massaged his tongue. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No,” he breathed out, tensing as Miles clenched his hole around his swollen cockhead. “Crap, I’m getting close.”
“Breed me, sir,” Miles pleaded, knowing the mark of respect was necessary at this point. “Fuck your seed inside me.”
The flow of cum that soothed the sensitized lining of his manhole caused his own cock to harden, though it couldn’t. He choked a grunt, thrusting into Jordan, finding pleasure in seeing him squirm and writhe as his orgasm turned to agony.
“Stop, stop,” Jordan begged, and smiled as Miles obeyed. “Good boy.”
They stayed there, knotted as one.
Jordan closed his eyes, and Miles mapped out the fine lines of his face. It didn’t bear any sign of anger or brutality. He looked younger, appeased.
That’s how he would have him; he would control him by giving him the love he sorely lacked, before ripping it away.
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