Too Weak to Wear It
© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
Randy didn’t hesitate when he opened the message from Liam.
Hope you’re good. Um… I’m still following your rule.
If you want to see me again, I’m free tonight.
It was pitiful. And honest. He liked that combination.
He let the message sit untouched for ten minutes, finished his coffee, and typed his reply without ceremony.
Come to mine tonight. Bring nothing but yourself. I’m hard already.
That was the invitation. The only one Liam would get. He could take it or disappear like the rest.
Randy spent the rest of the afternoon clearing his space. He stripped the bed, laid out a towel and a rag. He didn’t prep toys. Didn’t light a candle. This wasn’t a scene. It was a reckoning.
By the time the knock came, the sky had darkened. The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the low tick of the baseboard heater.
Randy opened the door without a word.
He didn’t say hello. He didn’t move aside.
He just looked at Liam, coat unzipped, hair damp from the cold, a nervous flicker behind his eyes, and then turned around and walked back inside.
No words. No warmth.
Just a gesture toward the floor.
Liam dropped to his hands and knees.
The door clicked shut behind him.
“Clothes,” Randy said.
Liam began stripping without rising. Shirt, jeans, briefs, each item folded and placed neatly beside the door as if it might change what was coming.
His cock hung hard beneath him.
“Good. Crawl to the kitchen.”
Randy walked ahead, slow and deliberate. Liam followed on hands and knees, the wood cold against his skin, his breathing shallow. He didn’t look up. He knew better.
Randy pointed to the dish rag on the counter.
“You’re going to clean. Fridge first. Then the counters. Don’t miss the bottom edges.”
Liam nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He picked up the cloth and began wiping. His knees scuffed softly on the floor with each shift. When he reached the lower door, he had to stretch, which raised his ass slightly. The position made him twitch.
A hard slap landed across his right cheek.
Liam gasped but didn’t stop moving.
“Don’t push your ass up unless you want attention,” Randy said.
“Yes, Sir.”
“You better fix it, or that ass is going to be red before you’re done.”
Liam adjusted, lowering himself more. He crawled to reposition and kept working. The counters came next, and he moved slower now, not wanting to earn another hit, though his body tensed in anticipation of one anyway.
Randy leaned against the frame and watched. He said nothing else as Liam wiped the counters, arms trembling slightly from the crawl and crouch. When it was done, he reached for the broom propped against the pantry and began sweeping in short strokes, still on his knees.
Randy walked past him and opened the bathroom door.
“Next.”
Liam crawled to the bathroom, the tiles colder than the wood. The mist from Randy’s earlier shower still clung to the air. Randy had left a sponge, a bottle of cleaner, and a fresh towel folded on the floor.
“Toilet, then the floor around it. Sink after that. Use the sponge for everything.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Liam began with the toilet. His fingers curled around the sponge tightly, knuckles whitening. He scrubbed the porcelain edge carefully, tracing along the base, around the back, up under the rim. He tried not to breathe too deeply. The position left him completely exposed, crouched low with his ass angled and legs spread slightly for balance.
Randy walked behind him, slow and silent. Another slap landed, harder than before.
Liam flinched.
“Don’t pause when I correct you. My slaps aren’t intended to make you stop working.”
He nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He moved to the floor. The sponge soaked quickly, leaving streaks of moisture as he scrubbed. His cock had softened slightly, but a pulse of tension still throbbed through it. The cool air of the bathroom, the sting on his skin, and Randy’s silent attention kept his nerves raw.
He shifted to the sink. His reflection caught in the faucet’s chrome. Eyes red. Mouth slightly open. Chest flushed. He looked wrecked, and they hadn’t even started yet.
When he finished, he placed the sponge neatly to the side and turned to face Randy, still kneeling.
“Now to the bedroom,” Randy said. “Keep crawling.”
Liam obeyed.
He crawled slowly across the apartment, every muscle awake, every nerve humming, unsure of what was coming next or whether he was already failing.
The bed was stripped to its frame. No sheets. No pillows. Just a towel spread across the mattress.
Randy stepped inside and turned. “You haven’t cum all week to earn the right to serve me.”
Liam crawled to the threshold and stopped.
Randy sat down on the bare bed, his muscled ass creating an impression in the bare material.
“Get up here and suck my cock.”
Liam climbed onto the bed and knelt on the towel, thighs apart, arms loose at his sides. His eyes lifted, then dropped again. He didn’t speak.
Randy unbuttoned his jeans, pulled down his zipper and took his cock out slowly. He let it hang heavy in front of Liam’s face.
Liam leaned in without being told. He opened his mouth and took the head gently between his lips. His tongue flicked forward, then he slid deeper, jaw stretching wide to fit the length.
Randy didn’t move at first. He let Liam find the pace.
The suction came soft, then stronger. Liam drew back halfway, spit already stringing across the tip, then dove forward again. His breath warmed Randy’s skin. His shoulders moved in tight rhythm.
Randy’s hand settled at the back of his head. A slow grip. Nothing forceful yet.
“Don’t stop.”
Liam hummed around the shaft and kept going. Each pass of his mouth came wetter, more urgent. Spit slicked his chin. His lips flushed pink.
Randy pushed forward a little more. Liam gagged once, then swallowed and steadied.
Another inch.
Then another.
Randy’s grip tightened. He began to move now, hips driving forward, letting his cock slide deep before pulling back again. Liam held still and took it.
Randy watched as his big, thick shaft plunged into Liam’s willing mouth over and over again, the dark pink head occasionally making an appearance from between Liam’s lips, straining them open further.
The sight turned him on, there was no doubt. Liam was still a sexy piece of ass, but tonight he had to prove he was more than that, more than just a hot, willing mouth.
Randy thrust his meat as deep into Liam’s throat as it would go, throbbing in the boy’s cavity as he anticipated what he was about to do to him. Then he started fucking Liam’s mouth again in earnest.
The sound of it filled the room. Wet, rhythmic, hungry.
Spit dropped to the towel in long threads. Liam’s chest heaved. His eyes watered but stayed closed. Randy stayed silent. He fucked the boy’s mouth like it belonged to him.
After a few minutes, he pulled out and let Liam breathe.
Spit clung in ropes between them.
“Lie down. Face up. Arms at your sides.”
Liam dropped back onto the towel, eyes wide, chest rising fast. His cock stood flushed and desperate.
Randy crouched beside him and reached for it.
Randy wrapped his fingers around Liam’s cock without a word.
Liam gasped. His hips jerked instinctively, but Randy pressed a firm palm to his lower abdomen and held him down.
“Stay still.”
Liam nodded fast, lips parted, breath already breaking.
Randy began to stroke. Slow at first, long passes from base to tip, letting the slick precum coat everything. The cock pulsed against his grip. Liam moaned, soft and breathy, his hands curling into fists against the towel.
Randy didn’t respond. He kept the rhythm steady. Drew it out.
When Liam’s breath started to hitch, Randy stopped.
Liam’s eyes flew open. He looked down, confused, mouth twitching with words he didn’t dare say.
Randy’s hand moved to his balls, cupping them, squeezing just hard enough to make Liam flinch. Then back to the shaft. Another few strokes. The pressure built fast.
Liam’s thighs tensed. His heels pressed down against the mattress. His whole body started to shake.
Randy let go again.
A single drip rolled down the side of Liam’s cock.
“Please.”
Randy glanced up. Just once. Then dragged his thumb slowly across the slit. Liam arched, choking on the sound that came out of him.
“Sir, I—”
Randy grabbed the base again and held it tight. No motion. Just control. The head throbbed helplessly in his grip.
Liam’s chest was slick with sweat now. His voice cracked.
“I’m so close.”
“I know.”
Randy let go again. He stood and walked away. Liam trembled, panting, his cock twitching in the air.
When Randy returned, he carried a glass of cold water. He took a long sip and set it on the nightstand.
Then he knelt between Liam’s legs and began again. This time, he used both hands. One to stroke, the other to hold Liam’s hips down.
Liam cried out. Not loud, but real.
Randy brought him to the edge again.
And stopped.
Liam’s cock jumped in the air like it didn’t understand.
Randy let his hands rest flat against Liam’s thighs.
“Good boy.”
Liam blinked up at the ceiling, eyes glassy, lips moving without sound.
His cock stood straight, flushed dark, leaking across his stomach.
Randy leaned in, kissed the tip once, and whispered—
“Not yours to cum with.”
Randy stood.
“Off.”
Liam didn’t move. His body was vibrating. His cock twitched violently against his stomach, flushed dark and leaking, the tip glistening like it could spill with just a breath. He looked up, eyes wide and pleading.
“Sir—please—can’t I?”
“Off the bed.”
Randy didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.
Liam swallowed the rest of the sentence and obeyed. He slid off the edge, legs trembling, knees hitting the floor with a dull thud. His breath came in short, desperate bursts.
Randy sat in the chair beside the bed and extended one foot toward him.
“Lick.”
Liam hesitated for a fraction of a second, then leaned in. His tongue met the top of Randy’s foot, dragging slowly across the skin. The taste was sharp—salt, sweat, faint traces of the floor. He didn’t stop.
He worked across the arch, between each toe, jaw clenched around the awkward angles. Randy kept still, watching the top of Liam’s head as he moved lower, licking along the side, then pressing his mouth to the curve of the heel.
Randy lifted the other foot.
Liam shifted. His knees scraped softly against the wood. He licked with more focus now, as if the act might earn him forgiveness, might bring him back to the edge where Randy had left him.
The second foot was warmer. Damp. He ran his tongue along the arch again, slower this time, and nuzzled between the toes with quiet effort. The submission was clear, but the desperation underneath it gave it weight.
When he finished, he stayed kneeling. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, leaking onto the floor.
Randy didn’t speak. He just leaned back slightly, took his cock in hand, and gave it one slow stroke.
Liam’s eyes locked on it. His lips parted again.
“Come here.”
Liam moved forward fast, mouth open wide before he reached. He took Randy in to the root on the first pass, throat stretching, spit already bubbling at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t gag this time. He just took it.
Randy let him work. No grip, no correction. Just the heat of Liam’s mouth sliding wet and eager over his cock.
The sound filled the room—slick, rhythmic, obscene.
Liam’s shoulders rocked with the effort. His arms stayed behind his back, obedient and useless. Drool ran down his chin, onto his chest, then onto the floor beneath them.
Randy looked down and watched. Watched the way Liam’s lips dragged over the shaft. Watched the red in his cheeks and the flutter of his throat as he swallowed each thrust.
Liam was working for it now. Not for release, but for use. To be kept. To be claimed. His face was a mess, his body shaking, his cock untouched.
Randy grunted low in his chest.
He pulled out slowly, leaving Liam panting and wet.
The boy stayed kneeling. Lips red. Mouth slightly open. His eyes didn’t rise.
Randy stood.
He walked to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out the small velvet pouch.
“Now let’s see if you’re serious.”
Randy turned the velvet pouch over in his hand once, then opened it and let the contents spill into his palm.
A small, glossy pink cage.
Plastic. Light. Pretty like Liam.
He looked down at Liam, still kneeling, mouth shiny with spit, chest rising like he’d just finished a sprint.
Randy crouched and held the cage in front of him, close enough for Liam to see every curve.
“I’m going to hold the keys.”
Liam blinked. Then again. His mouth opened slightly.
“You’ll get an emergency one. But that’s it.”
Randy let the cage hang there a moment longer, dangling lightly from two fingers, then placed it on the floor between them.
Liam didn’t reach for it.
His hands twitched. His eyes stayed fixed on it like it might turn into something else.
He stared.
One second. Two. Then longer.
The cage was simple. Quiet. Even kind of cute. It made his cock ache just looking at it.
He imagined what it would feel like — snug, constant, always there. The weight. The rules. The knowing that he couldn’t cheat even if he wanted to.
He could do it. Maybe. If it meant being kept. If it meant being his.
He shifted slightly.
Then pulled back.
“I can be good without it,” he said softly.
Randy raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been.”
Liam’s mouth worked in silence. “I’ll do better. I swear.”
“No,” Randy said. “You’ll wear the cage.”
Liam’s shoulders pulled in. He looked down at his cock, still rock-hard, still leaking slowly onto the floor. His voice came smaller now.
“Can’t I just show you? That I can be trusted?”
“You’re showing me right now.”
Liam’s eyes lifted. There was panic there now, tucked beneath the surface.
“I’ve never worn one before.”
“You’ve never earned this kind of attention before.”
Randy stayed crouched. His voice didn’t lift. His face didn’t soften.
Liam’s expression twisted. “So I don’t get to cum for a week, and now I get a cage as a reward?”
Randy’s face didn’t change. He spoke with calm, deliberate weight.
“You didn’t honor our agreement before. So now it’s simple. Wear the cage and show me you want to serve. Or don’t wear it and show me you’re not serious.”
Liam’s breath caught. He looked down at the little pink device, then back at Randy.
“I just… I can’t imagine having my dick in that thing. All the time. Can’t we just keep doing what we’ve been doing?”
Randy didn’t answer.
He stood, walked to the chair, and sat down. His body moved with total clarity, no tension, no drama.
Liam stayed on his knees, watching.
Randy spread his legs, took hold of his cock, and began to stroke.
There was no show in it. No cruelty. Just a quiet, purposeful claim of his own pleasure.
Liam didn’t know whether to beg again or stay silent. He leaned forward slightly, his own cock aching, untouched, still dripping.
Randy looked straight ahead.
He didn’t call Liam closer.
Didn’t say a word.
Only the wet sound of his own strokes filled the room, slow and firm, until his breathing deepened.
Randy’s hand slid up and down his shaft, lubricated by what remained of Liam’s spit. He maintained eye contact with Liam the entire time, saying nothing, but communicating volumes at the same time.
It didn’t take long for him to get close. Despite everything else, the sight of a naked, desperate Liam, on the floor and horny for him was enough to push Randy to the edge.
He came with a grunt and a clench of his jaw, throwing his head back, breaking eye contact with Liam for the first time since he’d started stroking himself.
Then he stood, wiped himself down, and walked back to the bed.
The cage still sat on the floor.
He picked it up, slipped it back into the velvet pouch, and placed it in the drawer.
Liam was still on the floor, still hard, still staring.
Randy didn’t look at him.
Didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
Liam watched from the floor, still breathing hard, still hard himself, as Randy calmly wiped off his cock and stood.
“Why did you do that?” Liam asked, voice tight. “Right in front of me?”
Randy didn’t answer right away. He walked to the dresser, pulled on his underwear, then his jeans.
“Get dressed.”
Liam hesitated, still on his knees.
Randy didn’t repeat himself.
Liam slowly got to his feet, limbs stiff from being on the floor so long, and began pulling on his clothes. His cock stayed hard through it, an unrelenting ache he tried to hide as he tucked it away.
Randy moved with quiet efficiency. He didn’t look at Liam. Just buttoned his shirt, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and headed toward the door.
When Liam was finally dressed, he followed.
Randy opened the door.
Liam stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets.
“So…” he started. “Is there gonna be a next time?”
Randy didn’t pause.
“I’ll see you in class.”
Liam’s face faltered. He opened his mouth again, but Randy had already begun closing the door.
It clicked shut without another word.
Inside, Randy stood still for a moment.
No anger. No regret.
Just a quiet confirmation of what he already knew.
He pulled the velvet pouch from the drawer, looked at the cage inside one more time, then placed it gently back where it belonged.
The search wasn’t over.
It had just begun again.
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