He kissed me again quickly. “My bedroom. Now.”
I scrambled off the couch, my legs unsteady beneath me. The sudden shift from our heated make-out session to standing upright left me dizzy, and I had to grab the arm of the couch to steady myself. Carter was already halfway to his bedroom, looking back at me with that same predatory smile that made my stomach flip.
"You coming or what?" Carter called, disappearing around the corner.
I followed on shaking legs, my bare chest still flushed from his touches. The hallway felt longer than usual, like I was walking through a dream. His bedroom door stood open, warm light spilling into the dim hallway. I could hear him moving around inside, the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor.
When I reached the doorway, Carter was pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the lean muscle I’d seen countless times before but had never been allowed to touch. Now, though, I was allowed. Now, I could touch. And kiss. And bite, maybe. I didn’t know the rules yet.
In no time, he was in just his underwear. “You have 10 seconds to be naked.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet rushing to comply, my fingers fumbling with my belt and zipper. Ten seconds. The urgency in his voice sent electricity through my veins as I kicked off my jeans, almost falling in the process.
"Five seconds," Carter warned, his eyes raking over my body with an intensity that made my skin burn.
I yanked down my underwear, stepping out of them just as he said, "Time's up." He stood at the foot of his bed, powerful and confident in a way I’d never seen before. The same man who left dirty dishes in the sink and laughed at stupid YouTube videos for hours was now looking at me like I was something to be devoured.
"Come here," he commanded, his voice low and rough.
I moved toward him on unsteady legs, hyperaware of my nakedness compared to his still-clothed lower half. I was hard as a rock, and while I should have been slightly self-conscious that this was the first time he was seeing me fully naked and hard, I couldn’t have cared less.
“Now ask me nicely to take off my briefs,” he said.
My face flushed crimson at the command, heat spreading down my neck and chest. His eyes were fixed on me, waiting, and I could feel the weight of his expectation settling over me like a blanket. My mouth felt dry, but I managed to find my voice.
"Please," I whispered, then cleared my throat and tried again. "Please take off your briefs."
His smile was slow and approving. "Good boy." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down in one smooth motion, stepping out of them with the same casual confidence he'd shown pulling off his shirt.
My breath caught in my throat. Carter was beautiful—lean lines and golden skin—and seeing him fully naked for the first time made my head spin. I’d imagined this moment countless times, but reality was so much better than any fantasy.
Especially his cock. I had heard a few girls talk about how big it was, but I was never expecting something this big. At least 8 inches—probably 9. And thick. And hard. It was just a perfect cock. Hard. For me. Because of me.
“You like it?” he asked with a smirk.
“Yes, sir,” I said—and realized a second later what I’d said.
“Sir, huh? Is that how you want to play this?”
Heat rushed to my face as the word slipped out. "I—I didn't mean to—"
"No, I like it," Carter said, his voice dropping even lower. "Say it again."
My heart hammered in my chest as he stepped closer. He was radiating heat, his body so close I could feel it without even touching.
"Yes... sir," I managed, the word feeling both foreign and right on my tongue.
Carter’s eyes darkened. "That's better." He reached out, trailing his fingers down my chest with agonizing slowness. "Now get on the bed."
I moved backward until my legs hit the mattress, then sat down, looking up at him with wide eyes. This was really happening. After years of imagining this moment, of lying awake at night thinking about Carter’s hands on my body, I was naked in his bed.
He produced a bag from under his bed. “How do you feel about being tied up?”
My breath caught. I stared at the bag, then at his face. He wasn’t joking—his eyes were dark with desire, his expression serious.
"I..." I croaked. Swallowing hard, I tried again. "Yes. God, yes."
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.”
Carter’s smile was slow and devastating. He reached into the bag and pulled out four soft-looking restraints. "I've had these for a while," he said casually. “Used them a few times, but most of the girls tapped out pretty quickly.”
I was lightheaded. I’ve always been naturally submissive—wanted to be tied up and played with—but never had the courage to ask for it. And now, Carter, the man who had slept just feet away from me for six years, was offering it like it was nothing.
"Lie back," he instructed, his voice gentle but firm.
I obeyed without hesitation.
“I’m going to tie you up spread eagle on the bed, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. I will never hurt you. But I am going to tease you. Edge you. I like edging. A lot. Does that sound okay?”
My entire body went liquid with desire. The word "edging" sent a jolt through my system that made my already hard cock twitch visibly. I’d fantasized about this exact scenario countless times, but hearing Carter describe it so confidently made it feel surreal.
"Yes, sir," I breathed. "That sounds... perfect."
His smile turned predatory as he moved to the head of the bed. "Good. Give me your wrists."
I lifted my arms, watching as he secured the soft restraints around each wrist. The material was comfortable, but firm. Testing them made my heart race—being this vulnerable, this at his mercy, was unlike anything I’d felt before.
"How's that feel?" he asked, fingers brushing down my arms as he moved to my ankles.
“Good. Nothing’s pinching or anything. Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve wanted this for so long.”
He shook his head, grinning. “I don’t know if you’ll be singing the same tune when I’m done with you.”
My cock throbbed. Just the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—was almost enough to undo me. As he secured my ankles, I tested the restraints again. They held. I was spread out and completely his.
“Now for the rules,” he said, fingers trailing down my chest. “You don’t come until I say. If you’re getting close, tell me. If you need to stop, say ‘red.’ Got it?”
"Yes, sir," I whispered, my body already buzzing.
He leaned down, lips brushing just below my ear. "I've thought about this, you know. What you'd look like spread out for me. What sounds you'd make. Don’t be quiet. It’s just us here.”
I shivered. “Yes, sir. I’ve thought about it too.”
“I want you to last a while, okay? Like I said, girls tap out early all the time. I respect that. But I want you to try your hardest.”
"Yes, sir," I said, my pulse racing.
His fingers traced down my chest, stopping just before where I wanted him. "Good. Now let’s see what makes you tick."
He explored me with slow, deliberate touches, discovering what made me gasp, what made me shiver, what made me arch. His attention never strayed—not even once.
"You’re so responsive," he murmured. "I barely have to touch you."
I whimpered, my body aching for more. His fingers brushed over my nipples again, and I gasped—God, even that felt overwhelming now.
“Carter, please,” I whispered, my voice strained. The restraints tugged tight as I tried to arch toward him, desperate for real contact.
“Oh, I’m Carter now? Not, sir?”
“Fuck, sorry—sir. Please.”
"Please, what?" His voice was maddeningly calm, fingertips drawing lazy circles on my inner thighs, so close to where I needed him. But never quite there.
"Please touch me," I gasped. "I need—"
"I am touching you," he said with a smirk, ghosting his hands over my hips. "You’ll have to be more specific."
It was driving me insane. Every inch of my skin was on fire, hypersensitive and desperate. The teasing, the restraint—it was too much and somehow not enough.
"Please touch my cock," I begged, shameless now. "Sir. Please."
Carter’s smile turned wicked as he finally wrapped his hand around me. The contact was electric, a jolt that made my hips buck and a loud moan escape from deep in my chest.
"Like this?" he asked, keeping his grip steady but still. Watching me. Reading me.
"Yes," I gasped. "God, yes."
Then he let go.
My eyes flew open wide. “Carter—!”
He just grinned. “Johnny, I told you. Teasing is fun for me. You’ve been tied up for like 30 minutes. I’ve barely started.”
My breath hitched. Thirty minutes? It already felt like hours.
He went back to slow, deliberate touches, exploring me again like he had all the time in the world. After what felt like forever, my whole body was vibrating with need. My cock throbbed, leaking against my stomach, and I knew I was seconds from losing it.
Finally—finally—he stroked me again. Slowly. Methodically. His free hand roamed everywhere else: my chest, my sides, my thighs. The dual sensations made me dizzy with pleasure.
"You're already close, aren't you?"
"Sir, yes," I admitted, my voice cracking. "I'm already close."
He immediately slowed down, loosening his grip just enough to hold me on the edge. "That won’t do," he said, almost to himself. "We’re just getting started."
That predatory smile again—it made my stomach flip and my cock twitch. There was something so possessive in his gaze now, so focused. It was overwhelming and thrilling all at once.
"I want to taste you," he said, voice low and rough.
I barely had time to process before he was between my legs. The first touch of his tongue against the head of my cock made me cry out, my back arching as far as the restraints would allow.
“I think I’ll just lick you for a bit,” he said, his breath warm against me. “Sucking would end it too soon. Licking? I could do that for hours.”
My brain short-circuited. “Oh god,” I gasped. “Please, sir.”
Then the first slow lick—from base to tip—dragged across my cock, and I lost it. Not in orgasm, but in complete surrender. My whole body strained toward him, desperate and helpless.
He took his time. His tongue traced every vein, every sensitive spot. Never enough pressure to bring me over, but always enough to drive me crazy. He was learning me—memorizing what made me gasp or twitch or beg.
"You taste so good," Carter murmured. "Better than I imagined."
I whimpered. I couldn’t take it. The restraints kept me locked in place, every muscle in my body taut and trembling. He was methodical. Patient. Wicked.
"Mmm, fuck," he groaned against my skin, and the vibration made me jolt. "I could do this all night."
“Please,” I moaned. “Sir, please…”
"What are you begging for now?" he asked, licking the head of my cock slowly. Torturously.
"I—I don’t know," I said helplessly. "Everything. Anything. You."
His eyes darkened even more.
“Sir,” I gasped again. “I’m getting close.”
He pulled away immediately, that maddening smirk on his face again. “Already? We’ve barely started.”
He blew cool air over my wet cock, and I trembled violently. "I can't help it," I panted. "It's too much—you're too much."
"Oh, Johnny," he said with mock pity. "You have no idea what ‘too much’ feels like. Not yet. We’ve only been going for… oh wow, it’s been two hours, huh."
Two. Hours?
No wonder I was shaking. My whole body felt like a live wire, ready to snap. Carter moved up my body, pressing feather-light kisses along my stomach, my chest, my neck. When our faces were level, I could feel his breath on my lips.
"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, even though his eyes were still wicked.
"My brain’s mush,” I admitted. “I feel like I'm going to die if you don't let me come soon.”
Carter chuckled, and the sound rumbled through me. "But you're not going to die. You're going to keep taking it because you're such a good boy for me."
That praise—“good boy”—it sent a jolt straight through my cock. I was so wound up that even his voice could make me twitch.
“Two hours of teasing,” he murmured in my ear, “and you’re still here. Still wanting more, right?”
I nodded frantically, words lost. My wrists ached from straining. My muscles were tight and trembling. The sheets were damp with sweat. And I still wanted more.
"I'm proud of you," Carter whispered, pressing a kiss to my temple. That soft touch, after all the torment, made my chest ache. "Most people would have used the safe word by now. You really want to make me happy, huh?"
“Yes, sir. I really do,” I said, full of adoration.
His expression softened for a breath, something tender flashing across his face before he slipped right back into control. He brushed his thumb across my lips.
"I think you’ve earned a reward."
My heart leapt. My cock throbbed in anticipation. Carter moved back down my body, and this time—thank God—he took me fully into his mouth in one smooth, devastating motion.
The wet heat was almost too much after hours of denial. I cried out, my back arching off the bed, straining for more. Carter’s mouth was perfect, his movements sure and relentless.
"Sir—I’m going to—"
And just like that, he let go again.
“FUCK!”
He pulled away completely, leaving me gasping. My entire body was trembling, straining, every inch of me raw with need.
"Not yet," he said, voice husky with desire. "I want to see how much more you can take."
I collapsed against the mattress, breathless, aching. “Sir, please,” I begged. “I can’t—”
"You can," Carter cut in, his fingers dragging over my inner thighs. "And you will. Because you want to be good for me, don’t you?"
I nodded frantically. "Yes," I whispered. "I want to be good for you."
His expression softened again. He kissed my forehead, surprisingly gently.
"You’ve been so good already," he whispered. "So good for me."
That praise—it melted me. His hand wrapped around my cock again, and I nearly sobbed from how good it felt.
“Please, sir. I want to cum so much. Please.”
“I know you do, Johnny. But you’ll wait. Because I want you to wait.”
And I did. Because he was right. I’d wait as long as he told me to.
“I want to try something,” Carter said suddenly. He sounded a little shy. “It’s a lot, and you can say no, but I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“I trust you, Carter.”
His eyes softened again, almost like love flickered there. Then he kissed me hard.
“I’m so happy this is finally happening, Johnny.”
“Me too, sir.” I smiled.
“So,” he said, going to his desk and pulling out a feather. “I’ve always wanted to edge someone with this.”
My eyes went wide. “How... would you do that?”
“Just like with my hands or my mouth. But slower. More torturous.”
"A feather?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, twirling it in his fingers. "Just imagine it. The lightest touch, just enough to drive you insane. But never enough to get you off."
My cock twitched again, another drop of precum sliding down despite the exhaustion. Even the idea of more teasing sent heat racing through me.
“Oh god,” I groaned. “You're trying to kill me.”
Carter laughed, low and rich. "Not kill you. I promise you’ll love it. Well, eventually."
He must have seen the fear in my eyes because he approached the bed slowly and sat beside me, feather in hand.
"You can say no,” he said. “I'd never force you. But I think you'd be surprised what you can take when you're determined to be good."
His hand rested gently on my ankle, and that simple touch grounded me.
“Ok, sir. I said whatever you wanted. And I meant it.”
Something dark flickered in his expression—pleased and wicked. He twirled the feather once more.
"Good boy," he murmured.
And then the feather touched my skin.
The first touch of the feather against my inner thigh was barely there, so light I almost wasn’t sure I felt it. But then Carter dragged it slowly upward, and I gasped, my entire body jolting as the sensation finally registered.
It was maddening. It wasn’t enough to get me off, but just enough to light every nerve ending on fire. I pulled against the restraints involuntarily, already desperate for more pressure, more anything.
"Oh fuck," I gasped, my voice rough from overuse. My thighs trembled as the feather continued its path, tracing the crease where my leg met my hip, so close to my balls I thought I might cry.
“Look at you,” Carter murmured, his tone somewhere between awe and arousal. “So sensitive now. I haven’t even touched your cock again, and you’re already squirming.”
I whimpered. It wasn’t even teasing anymore—it was something worse. Something more intimate. The kind of stimulation that burrowed into my brain and rewired it until the only thing I could think about was him.
“Do you like this?” he asked, feather dancing along my side now, curling around my ribs, my hipbone, that sensitive spot just under my navel.
“Yes, sir,” I moaned. It was true, even if I couldn't believe it was.
He smiled, dark and pleased. “Told you.”
Carter dragged the feather slowly across my chest, letting the soft bristles ghost over one nipple and then the other. I arched off the bed as best I could, moaning loudly.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” he said, circling one nipple again. “Are your nipples sensitive, Johnny?”
I couldn’t speak. My mouth had gone slack, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Every inch of my skin felt alive, electrified, begging for more. He attacked my nipples with his mouth as he continued his path along my skin with the feather. He feasted on them like it was his last supper.
The feather moved lower again—down the center of my stomach, teasing the line of hair that led to my cock but never quite getting there. My thighs were shaking with the effort of not begging again.
“Johnny,” Carter said quietly. “You’re shaking.”
“I can’t—I mean, I can,” I stammered. “It’s just—it’s so much, sir.”
“I know,” he said, the feather pausing over my hip. “But you’re doing so well. You’re still holding out. I’m proud of you.”
That praise did something to me. I didn’t know how, but it made the frustration more bearable. It made the hunger sharper but more manageable. Because it was for him. I was enduring this for him.
And maybe for me too.
I don't know how long he used that fucking feather on my body before he finally used it on my cock, but it had to have been over an hour.
“I’m going to use it on your cock now,” he warned, as if I hadn’t already been completely undone. “Just a little. Just to see what happens.”
“Fuck,” I groaned, my eyes snapping open to meet his. “Yes, sir. Please.”
He touched the feather to the base of my cock, and I saw stars.
It was almost too much—so light, so maddening. My hips bucked reflexively, but the restraints held me in place. The feather traced along one side, then the other. My cock was flushed dark and pulsing, the head shiny with precum. When the feather passed over the tip, I nearly screamed.
"Very good boy. And just think, I can do this for as long as I want, and you probably won't even be able to cum." He said this with a wicked grin. I wasn't scared, per se, but man, this was getting intense.
"Having second thoughts?" he asked, with true concern in his eyes.
"No, sir," I said immediately. "This is everything I've dreamed of. It's just very intense."
"I just have always dreamed about pushing someone to the absolute limit," Carter said, voice low and reverent, "to the absolute edge. And I don't think we're quite there yet with you."
His words echoed in my mind as the feather brushed against the underside of my cock again, tracing from base to tip with agonizing slowness. My whole body jerked involuntarily, a strangled sound torn from my throat. Every muscle in me was clenched tight, trembling from effort and overstimulation.
"You’re close," he said, crouching between my legs, chin resting lightly on the inside of my thigh. "But I think we can do better."
“Better,” I gasped, “sir, I—I-please—”
Carter just smiled and traced the feather across my balls with barely a whisper of pressure. I arched off the bed as far as the restraints would allow, my vision tunneling as a fresh wave of need slammed into me.
“You say please a lot,” he murmured, the feather now trailing circles around the base of my cock. “You really are desperate, aren’t you?”
"Yes, sir," I breathed, my voice wrecked. “I’m desperate.”
"Good," he said simply.
Then, for the next stretch of time—I don’t know how long; minutes felt like hours—he kept going. The feather would brush over my chest, ghost down my ribs, tease the crease between my thigh and groin. Sometimes he wouldn’t touch my cock at all for entire stretches, just circling it, brushing my knees, the soles of my feet, the inside of my elbow. I never knew where the next touch would be. That unpredictability drove me insane.
And then he’d return to my cock. A flick across the shaft. A swirl around the head. One long stroke from base to tip that made my toes curl and my thighs tremble.
Each time he did it, I got closer.
Each time I got closer, I told him. “Sir—I’m—I’m right there—please—”
And every time, Carter would stop. Just… stop.
Blow gently across the tip.
Smile like a goddamn devil.
“Not yet,” he’d say. “I still haven’t broken you.”
"I—" My voice cracked. "I don't know how much more I can take."
“You’ll tell me when it’s too much,” he said, completely unbothered, running the feather down my neck like he was sketching out my surrender. “That’s the deal. Until then… you’re mine to play with.”
I moaned. My entire body was trembling now. My cock was red, leaking steadily, twitching with every breath. I wasn’t sure what would come first—my orgasm or a mental breakdown.
And Carter just kept going.
Forty-five minutes in—yes, he had a timer running, and yes, he let me see it—he took a break from my cock entirely. My body sagged against the restraints, grateful for the reprieve.
Until he whispered in my ear, "Let's see what happens when I use the feather on your nipples while I stroke you just… a little."
My brain short-circuited. “Sir, no, please—”
“Oh?” Carter paused, lips brushing my ear. “Is that a red?”
My mouth opened, then closed. “No, sir.”
“Then we continue.”
His hand wrapped around my cock, light and slow and so maddening. At the same time, the feather brushed over one nipple. I screamed. Not loudly. Not in pain. Just pure, overwhelmed pleasure that had nowhere to go.
“You’re right there, aren’t you?” he asked again.
"Yes, sir," I sobbed. “So close—too close—”
He stopped.
Again.
I growled, half-crazed, half-broken. I wasn’t even hard in a sexy way anymore—I was hard like I was cursed. Like I was under some ancient spell that said I could never come unless this golden god said the words.
“You’re being so good,” Carter whispered, placing a kiss over my heart. “But you’re not done.”
I whimpered. “How much longer?”
He smiled. “Fifteen minutes.”
I honestly didn’t know if I’d make it. My limbs were jelly. My thighs ached from clenching. I was leaking so much I could feel it cooling on my stomach. My head was light. My breath was uneven.
And then he picked up the feather again.
For the last fifteen minutes, Carter used it like it was an extension of his mind. He knew exactly where to touch, when to pause, when to speed up just enough to trick my body into thinking it was happening.
And just before I could come?
He’d stop. Again. Every time.
“Tell me what you are,” he whispered, with five minutes to go.
“I’m—” I choked. “I’m yours.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours, sir.”
“That’s right,” he said, setting the feather aside and kissing his way up my body again. “You’re mine. Every part of you.”
My cock throbbed with the weight of his words.
“Sir,” I begged. “Please. Please.”
He reached for the timer and showed it to me.
One minute left.
“You’ve made it,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. “You did it, Johnny. You made it.”
“Sir, I need—”
“Not yet,” he said gently. “We finish the hour.”
The last sixty seconds were the worst of my life and the best of it. Carter didn’t touch me. He just watched — letting me pant, whimper, beg. He kissed my jaw, my cheek, my neck. Whispered how proud he was. How beautiful I looked.
And when the timer finally beeped, he smiled down at me and said nothing. He didn’t stroke me. Didn’t kiss my cock. He just… stopped.
"Such a good boy for me, baby."
That word. Baby.
I froze mid-thrash. My entire body, still trembling from more than an hour of feather torture, just sagged under the weight of it. That term of endearment made me want to cry and scream and beg all at once.
"Please, let me cum, Carter. Please."
Carter leaned down, his lips brushing mine — soft, tender. Then his voice, low and rough in my ear: "Soon, Johnny. I promise. But good submissives make their Doms cum first, right?"
My breath hitched. I nodded frantically. “Yes, sir. Of course. Please… I’ll do anything.”
Carter chuckled. “You’re about to.”
He sat up, positioning himself on the edge of the bed. His cock was flushed, thick, standing proud from the base of that taut swimmer’s body. It twitched as he looked down at me, as if eager for what was coming.
“Come here,” he said, patting his thigh.
I moved on shaking limbs, collapsing to my knees between his legs. I looked up at him, dazed, fucked-out, reverent.
“You know what I want, don’t you?” Carter asked, brushing my hair out of my face.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, licking my lips. “I want it, too.”
He cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I want you to take my cock. Every inch. I want to see those pretty eyes of yours dripping while you gag on it. Think you can handle that, baby?”
I swallowed hard, my cock twitching at the command. “Yes, sir. I want to choke on it. I want to make you cum.”
Carter’s expression darkened with hunger. “That’s my good boy.”
He guided my head forward, the tip of his cock brushing my lips. I opened without hesitation, flattening my tongue as he slid in, slow and deliberate, feeding it to me inch by inch.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned as he breached the back of my throat. “You’ve got such a perfect mouth, Johnny. I knew you’d be good at this.”
I moaned around him, the vibrations pulling another curse from his lips.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded.
I looked up — and the way he looked down at me made my whole body burn. Possessive. Proud. Starved.
Then Carter’s hands tangled in my hair. He didn’t thrust — not yet — just held me there, cock buried deep in my throat. I gagged, my eyes watering immediately, but I stayed still. I wanted this. I wanted him.
“Look at that,” Carter muttered, pulling back just slightly. “So fucking eager. So fucking desperate to be used.”
Then he moved.
His hips started a slow, punishing rhythm, sliding in and out of my mouth. Not enough to hurt — yet — but enough to make it clear who was in control. I choked once, then again, spit and drool already sliding down my chin, and Carter loved it.
“Goddamn, you’re such a mess already,” he growled. “Drooling all over my cock like some needy little toy. You love this, don’t you? Love being on your knees like the good little fuckhole you are.”
I whimpered. I couldn’t nod, not with how deep he was fucking my throat, but he didn’t need me to. He knew.
He fucked my face harder now, shallow thrusts growing deeper, filthier. My throat burned, my jaw ached, but none of it mattered.
“I’ve thought about this so many times,” he panted. “Jerking off thinking about your pretty mouth stretched around me. And now look at you. Taking it so well. Fucking born for this.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gagged again, spit pooling in the corner of my lips.
“That’s it. Cry for me, baby. God, you look so good like this. My pretty little mess.”
He didn’t stop. His thrusts grew erratic, cock hitting the back of my throat with every pass, groaning every time I gagged. My face was soaked, my chest streaked with saliva, my knees raw on the floor.
And I loved every second of it.
“You gonna be a good boy and swallow it all when I cum?” Carter growled. “Gonna keep your mouth wide open and take every single drop?”
I tried to moan around him, the vibrations making his hips stutter.
“You want to cum so fucking bad, don’t you?” he hissed. “And I haven’t even touched you. Haven’t even looked at your cock.”
I nodded the best I could, desperate, frantic.
He gripped the back of my head tight, holding me in place. “Don’t you dare pull off.”
Then he growled, deep and primal. “Fuck—Johnny—I’m gonna—”
I braced, and then—
Carter came down my throat with a raw, guttural groan, hips jerking as he emptied into me. The first pulse hit hard, and I swallowed instinctively, holding still even as I gagged around the sudden thickness.
“That’s it, baby,” Carter panted. “Swallow it. Every drop. Good fucking boy.”
He held me there as the last of it spilled, only releasing his grip when I blinked up at him, dazed and fucked and leaking tears.
I pulled back slowly, coughing slightly, licking my swollen lips as I met his gaze.
Carter looked wrecked — chest heaving, hair mussed, eyes dark with satisfaction.
And then his expression softened.
He cupped my jaw again, thumb brushing away a tear. “You were perfect,” he whispered.
“Thank you, sir,” I rasped, my throat raw, my heart pounding.
Carter leaned in and kissed me — open-mouthed and filthy, tasting himself on my tongue.
And then he smiled. "How many times should a Dom cum before the sub does?"
Fuck. I knew that meant he had a number other than one in mind. I needed to cum so fucking badly. He couldn't make me wait THAT much longer... could he?
"How many, Johnny?"
"More than once, sir?" I asked more than I said.
“Definitely more than once, I think,” Carter said with a big grin. “While we wait for me to recover, let’s make sure you’re not bored.”
Oh no.
I blinked up at him, lips still swollen, throat raw, body a trembling mess of denied need. “Sir?” I croaked.
Carter stood, stretching with lazy satisfaction, and I watched his lean, naked body move across the room. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, rummaged for a few seconds, then pulled out what looked like a small, portable fan.
That was weird enough.
But then came the feathers.
Dozens of them — light, soft, multicolored little things — already glued to the ends of a ring that fit over the fan’s rotating head like some twisted arts-and-crafts project.
My stomach dropped. “Sir… what is that?”
Carter looked over his shoulder at me, eyes sparkling with wicked intent. “Something I made a while ago. Never used it on anyone.” He grinned. “But you’ve been so good. I think you’ve earned a special treat.”
“A treat?” I asked, my voice cracking. “That doesn’t look like a treat.”
“Oh, it is,” Carter said, plugging it in beside the bed. “For me.”
He brought the fan close to the foot of the bed and adjusted the angle of the stand, tilting it upward. Then he grabbed a pillow and gently lifted my hips, sliding it under me until my cock stood proudly and helplessly at the perfect height — right in the path of the soon-to-be spinning feather ring.
I pulled at the restraints instinctively, already trembling. “Sir, please…”
“Shhh,” Carter said, flipping the switch.
The fan hummed to life.
And the feathers moved.
Soft, random, teasing flicks of bristles kissed the head of my cock, the underside, the base — never consistent, never predictable. I let out a strangled moan. My hips tried to jerk away, but the restraints held firm, and Carter had clearly done the math.
The positioning was perfect.
“Fuck,” I gasped, every muscle in my body tightening. “Sir—oh god—”
Carter just climbed into bed beside me, calm as ever, pulling the covers up lazily like it was any normal night. Then he scooted in close, warm and solid against my side, his arm draped across my chest.
The feathers flicked again — one curling under the head, another brushing the shaft — and I cried out.
“God, I love this,” Carter murmured against my neck. “You’re so reactive. So fucking sensitive. I could do this for hours.”
“You are doing this for hours,” I whimpered. “Sir, please. I—fuck, I can’t take it—”
“Yes, you can,” Carter said, placing a soft kiss beneath my jaw. “You’ve already lasted longer than anyone else I’ve ever played with. You’re special, Johnny.”
The praise hit me like a drug. My cock twitched against the endless flicking feathers. A drop of precum rolled down the side. I was shaking.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“Torture,” I gasped. “Perfect, awful torture. Please—sir—please let me cum—”
“Not yet,” he whispered sweetly. “You’ll cum when I say you can. But not a second before.”
He kissed my cheek, then nuzzled into the side of my neck, his voice soft and affectionate now.
“I like you so much, you know,” Carter said quietly, fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest as the fan kept teasing me. “I wish I’d known how much fun we could’ve had while we were living together. All those years…”
I whimpered, pulling at my binds a bit, but I couldn’t move. The teasing was constant, maddening. Just enough sensation to keep me on edge, never enough to tip me over.
“I used to jerk off thinking about this,” he continued, voice dropping. “Not just your mouth. Not just tying you up. But playing with you. Teasing you. Controlling your orgasms. Hearing you beg for me.”
“Please,” I sobbed. “I want to cum so bad. I’ll do anything, sir—anything.”
“I know, baby. I can hear it in your voice.” His lips brushed my temple. “But you’ll wait for me. Because you’re my good boy. My toy.”
A feather flicked the underside of my cock, and I thrashed again, muscles locking as I choked back a scream. Carter just kissed me again — so gentle, so sweet — like he wasn’t currently ruining me.
“I love this,” he whispered. “You begging me like this. You need me so much, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I cried. “Yes, sir. I need you so fucking bad. I need to cum. Please, please, please—”
“Shhh.” He pulled me tighter against his side, like a lover. “You’ll get there. But not yet.”
He reached down and stroked my thigh softly, almost comforting — in total contrast to the relentless feather torment between my legs. “Maybe I’ll let you cum when the fan runs out of batteries.”
“It’s plugged in,” I rasped.
Carter grinned. “Is it?”
I turned my head just enough to see him smirking at the wall outlet.
He had unplugged it.
“I’ve got a backup battery, though,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “Just in case.”
And then he pulled the blanket tighter over us, holding me like a boyfriend — while the fan spun, and the feathers flicked, and I sobbed into his chest, right on the edge of heaven and hell.
Time blurred.
It could’ve been ten minutes or an hour since the feather fan started its relentless teasing. My cock was swollen, aching, painted with precum that glistened in the soft light. The feathers never stopped. Some flicked the head, others danced lightly across the shaft, always in maddeningly unpredictable bursts. Every pass felt like a new jolt of electricity.
I was soaked in sweat, panting into Carter’s chest while he held me sweetly like we were just cuddling on a rainy morning. His hand lazily stroked my chest, up and down, never once touching below the waist.
"You're trembling," Carter whispered against my ear. “Do you want to stop, baby?”
“No,” I gasped. “Just… please. Please, I need—”
He kissed the side of my head. “I know what you need. But I want to try something new.”
My stomach flipped. “New?”
He slid out of bed, naked and glowing in the soft lamp light, and walked to his desk. I heard the sound of him rifling through drawers and boxes until he returned, holding something that made me whimper on sight.
A set of tiny adjustable clamps — with bells on them.
“Thought I’d never use these,” he said with a mischievous smile. “But they make a cute sound when you squirm.”
“Sir—please—”
“Oh, hush,” Carter said, climbing back onto the bed and straddling my thighs. “You’ll love this.”
He adjusted the fan, lowering it slightly so it would mostly hit the head of my cock now — the most sensitive, overstimulated part. I let out a strangled moan as the feathers zeroed in on that target, and Carter used the moment to lean forward and gently pinch one of my nipples between his fingers.
“Still sensitive here?” he murmured, rolling it. My whole body jerked.
He attached the first clamp.
Then the second.
And I howled.
The bells jingled with my movements, a cruel, musical reminder of my helplessness. Each squirm, each instinctive twitch of my hips, set them off.
“Perfect,” Carter breathed, watching the bells sway. “Now I can hear when you’re about to lose it.”
He lay beside me again, hand pressed over my heart, thumb tracing lazy circles as the feathers worked me over and the clamps tugged at my nipples.
“Oh god,” I choked. “Sir—this is—this is too much—”
“You keep saying that,” Carter murmured, kissing my temple. “But your cock’s still twitching for me, baby.”
Another few minutes passed like that. Maybe more. Time didn’t exist anymore. Only Carter’s warmth beside me, the music of the bells, the cruel fan still flicking my cock with surgical precision.
But then… he reached for something else.
A popsicle.
Out of nowhere, Carter retrieved a single, slowly melting cherry popsicle from a cup on his nightstand. My brain short-circuited.
“You kept that—?”
“In a thermos,” Carter said proudly. “Just in case I wanted to cool you off.”
He pushed the fan back and gently trailed the popsicle along my inner thigh.
I screamed.
The cold was like a slap after the heat. He teased it up, over my hip, barely touching my cock — just close enough for the chill to drive me insane.
“You’re leaking so much,” he whispered. “It’s like your body doesn’t know whether it wants to freeze or burn.”
“Please,” I begged, tears slipping down my cheeks again. “Please let me cum, I can’t—I can’t—”
Carter kissed my neck, his voice suddenly soft. “You can. You’re doing so good for me, baby. I’ve never had this much fun.”
He licked a drop of melted popsicle off my stomach and laughed when I whimpered.
“I used to dream about playing with you like this,” he said, his voice full of affection. “Did you know that? Not just sex. This. Making you melt. Keeping you on edge. Owning your pleasure.”
I nodded frantically. “Yes. Yes, sir. I dreamed about it too.”
He sighed, sweet and dreamy. “We wasted so much time, huh? All that pining, all that tension.”
Another stroke of the popsicle against my hip made me thrash, the bells jingling wildly.
“I want to make up for it,” he said. “And I think keeping you on edge all night is a good start.”
I sobbed.
“Please, sir. I can’t—I don’t even know what an orgasm feels like anymore. I’m just… suffering.”
“And still hard,” Carter whispered. “Still beautiful. Still mine.”
He kissed my forehead again, replacing the fan — then reached for a second one.
“Let’s see how you do with two.” WHO THE FUCK HAS TWO FANS?
I heard the second fan click on before I even saw where Carter placed it.
“Two fans?” I asked, voice shaking, breath ragged. “Sir—”
“Two fans,” Carter confirmed, casually, as if it were the most obvious decision in the world. “One wasn’t doing enough damage. I want to see what happens when your cock doesn’t get a break… at all.”
He adjusted it at an angle opposite the first. Now, soft, fluttering feathers were hitting both sides of my cock — the shaft from one direction, the head from the other. The constant teasing was now doubled. The bristles were maddening, cruel, relentless — tickling, brushing, whispering over my skin like they had lives of their own.
And I lost it.
I cried out, body arching as far as the restraints would allow. The bells on my clamped nipples jangled wildly. My cock twitched violently, spilling another bead of precum that Carter caught with his thumb and licked clean, moaning like I was dessert.
“Oh my god,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re leaking like a broken faucet.”
He crawled back beside me and pulled me into his arms again like we were watching a movie, not orchestrating the slow destruction of my sanity.
“You're incredible,” he whispered, brushing sweat-soaked hair from my forehead. “I could keep you like this forever. Edged and helpless and just mine.”
“Sir—please—I’m begging—” I gasped. “You said more than once, you didn’t say—hours—”
“I meant hours,” Carter whispered in my ear, and then, as if to prove his point, he reached for something beside the bed.
I couldn’t see what it was until it touched me.
A makeup brush.
Not a big one. Just one of those soft, fluffy blending brushes, barely the size of two fingers.
“You’ve been good,” Carter said, trailing the brush up the underside of my cock. “So I’m giving you a treat.”
I screamed.
Not from pain — from the lightness, the cruelty, the unbearable contrast of pressure.
“Carter—please—sir—please—”
“Shhh,” he said, soothing, like I was a crying baby. “Good boys don’t get to cum just because they’re begging. They cum when their Dom has cum at least twice. You know the rule.”
“I’ll explode before then,” I whimpered, voice cracking. “I’ll die. I’ll—”
He smiled, so warm and full of affection it made my chest ache.
“No, you won’t,” Carter whispered. “You’ll live. You’ll feel more alive than you ever have. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To give your whole body to me?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, sir.”
“Then shut your beautiful mouth and suffer for me.”
He dragged the brush over the swollen, dripping head of my cock again, while the two fans kept up their rotating torment, and the bells on my chest chimed softly with every twitch and tremble.
“Fuck, look at you,” Carter groaned. “You’re so sensitive, I bet I could breathe on your cock and you’d cry.”
Then he did. He leaned down, lips just an inch away, and blew a cool stream of air across the tip.
I screamed.
“Yup,” he said cheerfully. “Called it.”
I was shaking so hard the bed was moving. My whole body was red, burning, trembling. My cock was purple with denied orgasm. My eyes were glassy. My voice was gone.
And Carter? He cuddled me sweetly. Rubbed my stomach with one hand. Brushed his lips against my cheek.
“You look beautiful like this,” he whispered. “Ruined. Mine.”
I turned my head to him, my voice cracking like glass. “How long… how long until…?”
Carter tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, I came once. I’ll need another. But I think we’ll take a little break first. Maybe I’ll jerk off over your chest. Or maybe I’ll fuck that sweet mouth again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I nodded. I couldn’t even speak.
“And then… if you’re still begging like this…” he smiled. “Then maybe. Maybe I’ll let you cum.”
I tried to move. Tried to beg. Tried to promise him the world.
But then Carter kissed my forehead and whispered the cruelest thing yet:
“And if I don’t?”
I whimpered.
“Then maybe I’ll edge you… all night.”
“YOU ALREADY ARE!” I screamed, voice hoarse, eyes wild. “You already are edging me all night!”
Carter just giggled — actually giggled — as if I’d just told him a particularly good joke.
“You’re so dramatic,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss my cheek like I was a child having a tantrum. “You should hear yourself. It's adorable.”
I thrashed against the restraints, overwhelmed, overstimulated, leaking, panting, wrecked. And still rock-hard.
Still his.
Carter sat up, hands bracing on his thighs as he stared down at me. His eyes were dark now — hungry. Focused. The fans whirred quietly in the background, feathers flicking endlessly against my cock, keeping me perched on the knife’s edge of madness.
But then… finally… mercy.
Or so I thought.
“I’m taking the bells off now,” Carter murmured, reaching down and unpinching the first clamp from my nipple. I cried out, the rush of blood painful in the best way. He paused to kiss the sensitive skin before removing the second one, soothing the sting with his tongue.
I was panting, wide-eyed, desperate. “Sir… I can’t—I need—please—”
“I know,” he said softly. “But remember what I told you, baby. You don’t cum until after I do. And I’m feeling selfish tonight.”
Carter climbed back onto the bed — not beside me this time, but on top of me.
He straddled my chest, planting his knees on either side of me. His cock was right above my face now — heavy, flushed, and slowly hardening again.
“You’re going to watch,” he said, voice low and gravelly. “And you’re going to thank me when I’m done.”
I couldn’t speak.
I could only nod.
Carter spit into his hand and wrapped it around his shaft, already half-hard and pulsing. He started stroking slowly, deliberately — keeping his eyes locked on mine the entire time.
"You look so good under me," he said, voice thick. “Just laid out, wrecked, drooling. Like a broken little toy.”
My cock jerked violently in response to the words, the feathers still dancing across it like they hadn’t noticed the shift in focus.
“You like this, don’t you?” he continued, his hand sliding up and down his shaft with growing urgency. “Being used. Being watched. This is your favorite part, huh? When I lose control. When you see what you do to me.”
“Yes, sir,” I gasped. “I love it. I love making you cum. Please—please do it on me—please—”
Carter grinned, lips parted, sweat beading at his temples. “You want my cum, baby?”
“Yes. Yes. Give it to me, please. I need it—need it, sir—”
“You want me to mark you?”
“Yes.”
“Then shut the fuck up and open your mouth.”
I obeyed instantly.
Carter’s strokes grew faster, his hips twitching as he pumped his cock right above me, precum already slicking his fingers.
“I used to dream about this,” he grunted. “Your face under me. Your mouth open. Your eyes full of need. I’m going to give it to you. All of it.”
My lips were parted, tongue out, barely breathing. I could feel the heat of him, smell the musk, see every twitch of his thighs as he got closer.
“God—Johnny—fuck—”
He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the wall behind the bed as he pumped himself harder, his breath coming in ragged pants.
And then—
He came.
With a loud, broken moan, Carter’s cock pulsed, thick ropes of cum shooting across my face — my cheeks, my chin, my lips. Some hit my tongue, warm and bitter and perfect. I moaned around it, sucking the taste deeper into my mouth.
“Fuuuuuck,” Carter groaned, eyes squeezed shut as he kept pumping, wringing every last drop from his cock. The final few dribbled directly onto my tongue, and I swallowed instinctively, wanting all of him.
When he finally stilled, he looked down at me — sweaty, panting, his cum painting my face like some filthy, beautiful signature.
And he smiled.
“You are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered.
I couldn’t even answer.
I was too far gone.
He leaned down, kissing my forehead as if he hadn’t just completely defiled me.
“Good boy.”
Carter stayed there for a moment, straddling my chest, his cum cooling on my skin, his chest rising and falling with deep, satisfied breaths. He leaned down and kissed me again, this time slow and soft — no tongue, just heat and affection.
Then he sighed contentedly and slid off me, stretching like a cat. I was still shaking, my body practically vibrating from how close I'd been for hours, how long I'd been denied. My cock throbbed violently, straining toward the ceiling, still wet and desperate.
But Carter reached over and — with maddening calm — switched off both fans.
"Wait—what—?" I croaked, thinking maybe finally it was time. But instead, he just smiled.
“You’ve earned a break, baby,” he said. “Sleep now.”
“Sleep?!” I gasped, half-horrified. “Sir, I—I thought—”
Carter leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth. “I know what you thought. But I said after my second orgasm. I didn’t say immediately after.”
I whimpered helplessly, tugging at the restraints. My cock twitched again, visibly throbbing, purple at the tip.
“Get some rest,” he said, reaching up and brushing a thumb across my temple. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Maybe then I’ll let you cum. If you’re still being a good boy.”
My body ached. My brain was mush. But even in the middle of the cruelest denial yet, I melted into his touch.
Carter lay down beside me again, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me. I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze.
“Do you…” I swallowed. “Do you want to do this more often?”
Carter blinked. “You mean… tying you up and torturing you for hours?”
I nodded, cheeks flushed. “Yes, sir. That. And, maybe, more? Like, date or something?” My heart was pounding as much as my cock was throbbing.
He was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled — one of those rare, real smiles. The kind he used to hide behind bad jokes or long eye rolls.
“I’ve wanted this for years, Johnny. I just didn’t know you did too.”
“I always did,” I whispered. “I just… didn’t know how to ask.”
He leaned in and kissed me again, this time lingering. “Then yeah,” he murmured. “I want to do this more. I want you. Like this. Again and again. I want to take you on dates. Kiss you. I like that idea a lot.”
I felt my throat tighten — not from lust this time, but from emotion. I’d never felt more exposed in my life, and somehow, more seen.
“Even if I’m needy and whiny and desperate?”
“Especially then,” Carter said with a grin. “It’s fucking adorable.”
He pulled a blanket over both of us — leaving me still tied, still naked, still hard, still covered in his cum. He curled around me, one arm slung lazily over my chest, his fingers occasionally trailing over my skin.
And even though I was achingly, unbearably horny…
I felt safe.
