I woke to warmth — the kind that wraps around you before you even open your eyes. The blankets were soft, the pillow smelled like Carter, and the apartment was silent except for the low hum of the fridge and the soft, steady breathing behind me.
Carter’s arm was around my waist.
His chest was against my back.
And his hand… was already on me.
Not moving. Not teasing. Just resting — heavy and possessive over the bulge of my still-locked cock.
I sucked in a slow breath, eyelids fluttering. “Sir…?”
“Shhh,” Carter whispered, voice low and sleep-rough. “Don’t talk yet. Just feel.”
His fingers started to move.
Barely.
The cage didn’t allow much room — just enough for him to press and circle and draw out sparks of sensation so sharp they made my toes curl. The touch was maddeningly careful, like he was petting something fragile. Something his.
“Morning wood,” Carter murmured, kissing the back of my neck. “Though in your case, I guess it’s more like… morning pressure.”
I whimpered.
“You didn’t even twitch in your sleep,” he said, nuzzling behind my ear. “Such a good boy. You were so still. So obedient. I couldn’t stop touching you.”
He slid his hand lower — between my legs — where he could rub lightly at the sensitive skin behind the cage, the place that made my breath catch in my throat.
“I could get you off like this,” he said, casually. “Not even unlock you. Just grind you against the bed, use my hands on you nice and slow until you break.”
The image flashed in my mind: caged, crying, coming from friction alone. I gasped.
“But…” Carter murmured, dragging his mouth along the line of my shoulder, “I think you’ve earned something better.”
I turned to face him, our noses brushing. “Does that mean…?”
He nodded, that sleepy, devilish smile tugging at his lips. “You’re gonna cum today, Johnny.”
A flood of relief and want rolled through me so fast I nearly cried.
“But,” Carter added, lifting a brow, “I’m going to make it so slow.”
He kissed me then — lazy, deep, unhurried — the kind of kiss that makes you melt into the bed and forget how long you’ve been aching. And as we kissed, his fingers moved to the base of the cage.
He unlocked it.
The metal slipped away, and my cock throbbed instantly, swelling with the freedom it had been denied. I gasped into his mouth, my whole body shivering from the sudden pulse of sensation.
Carter didn’t touch me right away. He just let it be — let me feel the weight and heat and desperation flood back through my system.
“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s mine. I’ve been keeping it safe for you.”
My cock was leaking already, wet against my stomach. I whimpered, needy and exposed and undone.
Carter kissed my cheek. “Roll onto your back, baby. I want to watch your face.”
I obeyed.
He pulled the covers down and sat up beside me, propping himself on one elbow. His hand hovered over my cock — just hovered — the warmth of it enough to make me twitch.
“I’m going to jerk you off,” he said. “But you’re not going to cum yet.”
I groaned.
“You’re going to feel everything,” Carter whispered, finally closing his hand around me. “And you’re going to thank me for it.”
And then he started to stroke.
Slow. Like molasses-slow. Like he was trying to memorize every ridge and vein with his fingers. He watched my face the entire time — every gasp, every twitch, every time my legs shifted restlessly.
“I could do this for hours,” he said. “Your cock looks so fucking happy to be free.”
I could barely breathe. My hands fisted the sheets. I’d never felt anything so good in my life — not even the anticipation. This was pure, unfiltered pleasure, turned up so high it burned.
“Sir, please—”
“No,” he said simply. “Not yet.”
He bent down and kissed my stomach, just above where I ached. “You’ll cum when I say. And not a second before.”
His hand kept moving. Light and slow. A delicious torment.
And I would have begged forever — because it was Carter, and I was his, and this was exactly where I wanted to be.
His hand slowed to a stop, and I almost sobbed.
“Shhh,” Carter cooed, kissing the inside of my thigh. “I said you’d cum today. Doesn’t mean you get to decide when.”
I was trembling. So close. My cock glistened with precum, pulsing against my stomach.
Carter sat up, that wicked sparkle returning to his eyes. “Let’s play a game.”
I whimpered. “Sir, please—”
“I call it No Hands,” he said, completely ignoring me. “The rules are simple. You get to hump something. Pillow. My leg. Whatever I let you. But no hands. And you only get to cum if you do exactly what I say. Every. Time.”
I swallowed hard. My cock throbbed in agreement.
Carter got up and went to the bed’s edge, yanking one of the big, soft pillows from under the blanket. He tossed it on the center of the mattress and looked at me with mock innocence.
“Well?” he said. “Go on. Mount it.”
I crawled forward on shaky limbs, straddling the pillow and pressing my cock down into it. The friction was immediate, dizzying. I let out a guttural moan.
Carter climbed back on the bed behind me, propping himself up with a snack — actual popcorn. He was snacking during this.
“I’m watching you like a movie,” he said casually. “Better act like the main character.”
He took a bite, then said, “Okay. Grind in slow circles. No thrusting. Keep your hands flat on the bed.”
I obeyed. My cock dragged across the pillow, slick with precum, the softness just enough to drive me wild. I whined through gritted teeth.
Carter purred. “Good boy. That’s it. So needy. So obedient. This your new favorite way to hump something?”
I moaned. “Yes, sir.”
“Now rock back and forth. Small thrusts. Still no hands.”
The movement sent sharper jolts through me. I could feel my thighs beginning to shake.
Carter grinned. “God, you look pathetic. I love it. I want you like this every morning.”
I whimpered, hips stuttering. “I’m gonna—”
“Stop.” he barked.
I froze. Breathing hard. My cock was a heartbeat away from release.
“Not yet,” Carter said, crawling up behind me. He kissed my back, then whispered at my ear: “Let’s make it interesting.”
He reached for his phone.
I didn’t even ask what he was doing. I just braced myself.
And then the vibrating plug was back on — low. Gentle. But noticeable. My whole body jerked.
Carter kissed my neck and murmured, “Now ride it. Slowly. You don’t get to cum until I feel you’re ready.”
I whimpered again, obeying, grinding slowly against the pillow with the plug pulsing inside me.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Carter whispered. “You’re leaking so much. Look at this mess.” He reached around, dragged two fingers through the slick on my cockhead, and brought them to my mouth.
“Taste how desperate you are.”
I sucked on his fingers, moaning.
The combination of the plug, the pillow, his voice, the fucking game — it was overwhelming.
Carter whispered at my neck again. “You wanna cum on my pillow, baby?”
“Yes, sir,” I gasped. “Please. I need it. I need to so bad.”
Carter kissed my shoulder. “Then earn it. Keep humping. Don’t stop until I say.”
I buried my face in the mattress and kept going — riding the edge again, chasing the orgasm that had been denied so long it felt like a myth.
“You cum too soon,” Carter said, “we start the game over. Got it?”
I nodded frantically. I was ready to do anything.
I was grinding slow and deep into the pillow, barely holding on, every nerve raw and ready to combust. My cock was slick, the plug inside me buzzing low like a wicked secret, and my thighs were starting to shake from the strain.
That’s when Carter moved.
Without a word, he reached under me, wrapped one strong arm around my chest, and flipped me over like I weighed nothing.
My back hit the mattress with a soft thud, legs falling open, cock twitching helplessly against my belly, still glistening and angry and untouched. I gasped, disoriented from the sudden shift, but Carter was already climbing over me, straddling my hips with a smirk that told me everything I needed to know.
“Time to level up,” he murmured, dragging his fingers down my chest. “Look at you. You’re so fuckin’ wrecked. You’d cum if I breathed on your dick right now.”
I whimpered. “Sir… please—”
He leaned in close, his nose brushing mine. “You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, do you?”
“I just want you,” I breathed. “I want you so bad it hurts.”
Carter smiled, soft and dangerous. “Good. That’s how I want you.”
He settled lower, hips resting on mine, my cock pinned between our bodies. His warmth, the pressure, the faint vibration from the plug—it was too much.
Then he started grinding.
Slow.
Subtle.
Like he wasn’t even trying.
But every movement of his hips sent waves of friction through me—bare skin against bare skin, my cock sliding against his abs, his sweat mixing with mine. He was watching the movie again, barely looking at me. Just letting it happen.
“Feel that?” he asked casually, eyes still on the screen. “You’re not even inside me and you’re this close to blowing. Jesus, Johnny…”
I moaned, hands clenching the sheets. “Sir, I’m gonna—”
“No, you’re not,” he said simply, and stilled his hips.
I nearly sobbed.
Then he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand, his grip strong and possessive.
The other hand?
It reached between us… and missed my cock by an inch.
He started touching my thighs instead. Stroking up and down. Featherlight. Purposefully avoiding the place I needed him most.
“You wanna cum so bad, but you’re still following every rule,” he said, voice low and proud. “You haven’t touched yourself. You haven’t begged wrong. You’re such a good fuckin’ boy for me.”
“Please let me be your good boy forever,” I choked out, eyes glassy.
That made Carter pause.
He looked down at me—really looked—and his whole expression softened.
“You already are.”
Then he kissed me, hard, possessive, and full of everything he hadn’t said out loud yet. His hips started grinding again, and this time he leaned his weight into it—slow, controlled movements, dragging heat and friction right across my cock with every roll.
“Don’t cum yet,” he warned, whispering against my lips. “I’m not done. Not until I’ve made you see stars.”
Carter’s grinding grew heavier, more deliberate, the angle shifting just right until every movement dragged my cock against the heat of his body in slow, perfect friction. I was gasping beneath him, hips jerking involuntarily, the buzzing plug inside me turning every small movement into white-hot torture.
“Fuck,” Carter growled, his voice right at my ear. “Look at you—wrecked, trembling, so fucking desperate for me.”
“Please, sir,” I whimpered, pinned beneath his weight, wrists still caught in his hand above my head. “Please let me—”
But he cut me off—his hips rolled just right and his breath hitched.
He was close.
And then it happened.
With a broken, guttural moan, Carter slammed his hips down one last time, and came—hot and hard—spurting across my stomach and chest in thick, warm pulses. His eyes locked on mine the entire time, jaw clenched, body trembling as he emptied himself all over me, marking me with his release like it was his name on my skin.
He didn’t speak for a moment. Just let his body collapse against mine, breathing ragged, forehead resting against my shoulder as his cum cooled between us.
I could feel his cock twitching even after, the last drips smearing between our stomachs as we both just breathed.
Then, quietly, Carter said, “Still didn’t let you cum.”
I whimpered.
He laughed. Softly. Warmly. “You’re such a good fucking boy.”
He sat up slowly, smearing the mess across my skin with his palm like he was proud of it. Then he leaned down, licked a streak from my chest, and grinned.
“But you are disgusting.”
I barked a laugh—weak, breathless, but real.
“C’mon,” he said, finally releasing my wrists and climbing off the bed. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m not leaving you soaked and begging all night. Not yet, anyway.”
He helped me up gently, and when I tried to stand, my legs nearly gave out. Carter caught me—of course—and steadied me with an arm around my waist.
“Okay,” he said, amused. “So you’ve got, like, zero strength left. Good to know.”
He walked me to the bathroom, the air cool against my sticky skin. The plug buzzed once more inside me, and I whined.
Carter reached back, flicked the app on his phone, and shut it off. “You earned a break.”
Once in the bathroom, he turned on the shower, tested the water, then stepped behind me and slowly slid the plug out. I gasped at the stretch, my whole body twitching with relief.
“Good boy,” he murmured, kissing my shoulder.
We stepped into the steam together, the water pouring over us as Carter guided me under the spray. He was gentle now, every bit the partner and protector I’d fallen for—washing me slowly, massaging shampoo through my hair, lathering soap down my back and between my legs with care.
“Feel okay?” he asked softly, voice echoing in the steam.
I nodded. “Yeah. Better than okay. Just… still on edge.”
Carter smiled. “That’s the point.”
We stood like that for a long while—his hands never leaving me, his body close behind mine. It wasn’t about teasing anymore. It was comfort. Intimacy. The kind that said I care about you, not just what I do to you.
And I wanted to stay right there. In his arms. Under the water. Owned and adored.
After the shower, Carter tossed me a towel and playfully smacked my ass with his own before wrapping one around his waist. He didn’t say much—just smiled, eyes still a little heavy-lidded from his orgasm, his touch softer now. Grounded. Loving.
We made our way back to the bedroom. The sheets were rumpled and sticky, still a mess from earlier, so Carter ripped them off with exaggerated flair and a muttered, “DNA evidence everywhere.”
I cracked up, half from exhaustion, half from the ridiculousness of it. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Carter threw the wadded-up sheet at my face. “You’re the bad thing.”
We collapsed into fresh sheets, both warm from the shower, still a little damp, and so close. Carter pulled me against his chest, my back snug to his front, and wrapped both arms around me like I was something he didn’t want to lose. His nose nuzzled into my neck. I felt the soft brush of his smile against my skin.
“Did I break you today?” he asked, half-proud, half-teasing.
“I mean,” I said slowly, “I don’t think my soul left my body, but I’m definitely seeing stars when I blink.”
Carter chuckled. “Perfect. Mission accomplished.”
We lay there quietly for a few beats, breathing in sync. Then I heard him whisper against my neck, “You were amazing, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone give me so much trust.”
I turned in his arms so I could look him in the eyes. His expression was open. Honest. “You’ve earned it,” I said simply. “And you made me feel… safe. Even when I was begging for mercy.”
He smirked. “Yeah, you begged really well.”
I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my forehead. “Shut up.”
“You love it,” he grinned, brushing my hair back from my face.
I grinned back. “Maybe a little.”
We shifted closer, our legs tangling naturally. His hand found mine under the blanket and laced our fingers together.
“You know,” Carter said after a while, “this thing we’re doing… it doesn’t have to be just a one-time weekend full of orgasms denied and dignity destroyed.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You planning to ruin my life regularly now?”
He laughed, loud and bright. “I mean, I am very good at it.”
I squeezed his hand. “I want that. I want this. More of it. Not just the sex stuff. You. Us.”
His face softened again. “Me too.”
We kissed lazily—slow and smiling, the kind of kiss that says we have time. That we’re not done yet.
Eventually, Carter tucked his head under my chin and yawned. “Just so you know,” he mumbled, already halfway asleep, “you’re not cumming until at least lunch tomorrow.”
I laughed. “Of course not. Why would I expect anything less?”
“Good boy,” he whispered, and then I felt him melt against me, warm and safe and home.
I must have dozed off, because I woke up to the sound of soft footsteps and the gentle rustle of fabric and rummaging through the drawer by the bed.
“You awake?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder with a grin that made my stomach flutter.
“Mmhmm,” I murmured, still groggy. “Sort of.”
He crawled onto the bed and straddled my hips, hands on either side of my head. “Good. I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous,” I teased, yawning.
“Shut up,” he laughed, then kissed my forehead. “You’ve been very good for me. You’ve played every game. Followed every command. Let me edge you until your brain practically melted.”
I blinked slowly. “You’re not wrong.”
“So I figured,” Carter said, reaching behind him—click, click, click—“it’s only fair that I be the one to end it.”
My heart picked up.
He held up four restraints.
I went still.
“You up for one more round?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Tied down. One last tease. Then I make you cum so hard you forget your name?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Carter smiled, kissed me once, then got to work. He moved slowly, reverently, like he was handling something fragile and precious. My wrists first, stretched above my head and secured to the headboard. Then my ankles, spread and tied to the bottom corners of the bed.
When he was done, I was completely exposed. Open. Helpless. Exactly the way he liked me.
Exactly the way I liked me, when I was his.
He knelt between my legs, eyes dark with want.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “Still leaking. Still twitching. I could make you wait another week.”
“Please don’t,” I breathed. “I don’t think I could survive it.”
“That’s what you said yesterday,” he smirked, reaching down to run two fingers up the underside of my cock. It jumped at the touch.
I shook.
“Still so sensitive,” Carter murmured. “Good. I want your whole body begging for it.”
He started slow. Of course he did.
Just his fingertips brushing the insides of my thighs. My stomach. My hips. Every inch except the one I was dying for.
“You’re like a live wire,” he whispered, watching me squirm. “I barely touch you and you shake.”
“Please, sir,” I gasped. “Touch me. I’m—I’m gonna explode.”
“Not yet.”
He leaned down and kissed the head of my cock, just once.
I cried out, body jerking against the restraints.
Then his tongue came out—long, slow licks from base to tip, barely applying pressure. Teasing. Worshipping.
I couldn’t stop the noise that came out of me—some mix between a sob and a moan. My whole body was desperate.
“Say you’re mine,” Carter whispered against my skin.
“I’m yours,” I gasped. “Always yours.”
He started stroking—slow, tight, devastating.
Then stopped.
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours!”
He started again. Faster. More rhythm.
Then stopped.
“Again.”
“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours—please—”
“Good boy.”
He wrapped his hand around me one final time, and this time he didn’t stop. He stroked me with purpose—steady, strong, relentless. His mouth joined in, sucking the head while his hand worked the shaft.
The sensations were overwhelming.
I was right there. I had been there. And now he was finally, finally giving it to me.
“Cum for me, Johnny,” Carter growled. “Now.”
And I did.
I screamed as it hit me—a full-body explosion that tore through me like lightning. My back arched, every muscle went taut, and I came hard—spilling across my stomach, my chest, Carter’s lips, the bed. It went on and on, wave after wave, until I was gasping, shaking, half-sobbing from the sheer release.
Carter didn’t stop until I was wrung out and boneless beneath him.
Then he pulled back, licking his lips with a filthy grin. “Worth the wait?”
I could barely speak.
He untied me gently, massaging my wrists, kissing every spot the restraints had touched. Then he pulled me into his arms, pressing kisses to my forehead, my cheek, my lips.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered.
“You’re insane,” I rasped.
“Same thing,” he grinned.
We lay there tangled in each other, my body buzzing, my heart full, and his fingers tracing slow circles on my chest.
“You did so good, Johnny. So fucking good.”
And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I knew I’d do it all again.
And again.
And again.
The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the sound of our breathing. I was trembling in the aftermath—small, involuntary shakes rippling through my limbs even though I felt utterly drained.
Carter noticed immediately.
He pulled the covers up over us, then gathered me close, wrapping both arms around me until I was curled into his chest, our bare skin pressed together, his heartbeat steady in my ear.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You still with me?”
I nodded against his collarbone. “Yeah. Just… floaty.”
“That’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing slow, grounding circles between my shoulder blades. “You were incredible.”
I exhaled shakily. “That was… intense.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of my head. “You gave me everything. You didn’t hold back. That means everything to me.”
He reached for the water bottle on the nightstand and gently pressed it into my hands. I took a few sips, grateful for the coolness on my tongue, and then leaned back into him, spent and soft and warm.
“I wasn’t too much?” I asked after a long pause, my voice small.
Carter pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “No. Not even close. You were perfect. But if there’s anything I did that didn’t feel right—anything at all—I want to know.”
I shook my head. “You made me feel safe. The whole time. Even when I was begging, even when I was overwhelmed—I wanted it. Because it was you.”
His face softened. “Good. That’s what I wanted, too.”
We lay there in the silence for a while, bodies tangled under the covers, his hand moving in slow, lazy patterns across my back. Every now and then, he’d kiss my shoulder or murmur something soft like, you’re okay or I’ve got you—just gentle reminders that I wasn’t alone in my comedown.
“You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted in a submissive,” Carter said eventually, voice low and tender. “You trust me. You feel everything. And you’re so fucking responsive. You made this amazing for me, too.”
My chest swelled. “It wasn’t just sex, was it?”
“No,” Carter said, without hesitation. “It was us.”
My eyes stung a little. He saw it, of course.
“You wanna talk more?” he asked, brushing a thumb under my eye. “Or you just wanna be held?”
I swallowed and nodded. “Just hold me. But… don’t stop talking.”
Carter smiled and pulled me tighter into his arms. “Okay. Then I’ll tell you how I’ve been wanting this since the third time we ever hung out. When you stole my fries and laughed like you had no fear in the world.”
I laughed softly into his chest. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“Yep,” he said. “But now I’m your weirdo.”
He kept talking. Joking. Reassuring. Teasing just enough to make me smile. But the edge was gone—for now. This was softness. Presence. Love, even if we hadn’t quite said the word out loud yet.
And when I finally started to drift, Carter whispered, “Sleep, baby. I’ll be right here.”
The days that followed were quiet. Warm. Almost domestic.
Carter and I spent our mornings wrapped up in each other, trading sleepy kisses before making coffee and arguing over what to watch on Netflix. Afternoons meant lazy sprawls on the couch—legs tangled, heads on shoulders, soft smiles exchanged like they were second nature. Evenings brought shared dinners, inside jokes, and board games we were way too competitive about.
And the kissing.
God, so much kissing.
Carter kissed me constantly—on the cheek when he passed behind me in the kitchen, on the lips every time I handed him coffee, on my hairline when I curled into him during a movie. It wasn’t just casual—it felt deliberate. Like each one meant something. But none of them ever turned into more.
Not once.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. I told myself not to be needy. Not to seem desperate. And the affection? It was perfect. I loved being close to him. I loved being his.
But by Thursday, the tension in me was unbearable.
I caught myself grinding subtly against his thigh during one of our longer make-out sessions. I got hard just brushing against him in the hallway. My body remembered what it felt like to be his, to be tied and teased and used—and it ached for it.
Still, Carter didn’t push. He held me. Teased me with those soft looks. Ran his fingers through my hair and called me baby. And I adored it.
But I was losing my mind.
Thursday night, we were curled up in bed—my head on his chest, my arm thrown across his waist. He kissed my forehead, warm and slow, like he’d done a dozen times that day.
And something in me broke.
“Carter?” I tilted my head up to look at him.
“Mmm?” His voice was warm. Sleepy.
“Why haven’t we…” I hesitated. “Why haven’t we done anything this week?”
He looked down at me, brow furrowing slightly. “You needed a break. After what we did last weekend, I thought giving you space was the right move.”
“But you didn’t ask.”
His eyes widened a bit. “I thought I was being respectful.”
“You were,” I said quickly. “You are. But I don’t want space. I want—” I took a shaky breath. “I want you to tie me up.”
That got his attention.
His pupils darkened instantly. His whole body tensed under mine.
“Right now?” he asked, his voice quiet but suddenly sharp.
I nodded. My pulse was a steady roar in my ears. “Yes, sir.”
Carter’s mouth curled into that slow, devastating smile—the one that always made my stomach flip and my cock ache.
“Then say it properly.”
I shifted to my knees on the bed, facing him, breath short and unsteady. I looked him in the eyes.
“Please, sir,” I whispered. “Tie me up. I need it. I need you.”
Carter let out a long, steady breath, like he’d been holding something in all week, too.
“Get the restraints,” he said. “Now.”
