I opt for the soba noodles, not just because they are already cooked and I am impatient to get Dane into my dungeon, but also because it allows me to feed him with chopsticks while he waits for each bite on his knees, dressed only in those delicious bikini briefs—this time in bright red. How many different colors will I be treated to before his wardrobe is exhausted?
By the time he’s put away all the food, I am aching to have Dane at my mercy, especially since I’ve been feeling quite at his for most of this evening. Mercy, what a poignant choice for a safe word. The essential counterbalance to absolute control—the tender swipe of a tongue around the harsh metal clamp—and the ultimate cry for compassion.
Still wary of Dane’s emotional state, despite the fact that he seems overeager if anything, I initiate the scene as planned, vowing to keep an extra-vigilant eye on him. I summon Dane to the edge of the carpeted living room, where he instantly sinks to his knees, clasping his hands behind his back. I can hardly keep my hands off his perfect skin, the tight peaks of his nipples, and that tantalizing bulge below, but neither of us is in the proper state for me to start feeling him up right here. Instead, I step in close and pull his head to my thigh, allowing both of us the comfort of running my fingers through his silky hair.
Dane responds eloquently with a deep sigh and a rash of goose bumps. Onward.
“I like having you right next to me, Dane. I love to feel your soft hair between my fingers. I love knowing your body is so close, I can just reach out and touch you anywhere I want.”
He lets out a soft moan that goes straight to my dick. My hands have gone no lower than his neck, but I might as well be palming him right now.
“You like being close to me too, don’t you, Dane?” Slide, pull, caress.
“Mmm, yes, Master.”
“You know, we masters have lots of different tricks for keeping our submissives close. For a boy as good and obedient as you, I don’t need to do any more than give the command to stay, do I, Dane?”
He sinks a little deeper into the head space he needs. His eyelids grow heavier; the tip of his erection threatens the elastic waistband; his tone is increasingly serious. “No, Master.”
“The thing is, Dane, I need more than that tonight. I need us both to know that you’re not going anywhere until I release you.”
Because we both know you walked away from me, and I couldn't bear that again.
Because we both know you walked away from me, and I couldn't bear that again.
Awareness seeps in, and I read anxiety as Dane lifts his eyes to mine. My words challenge him while my fingers continue their soothing rhythm. I’m Bad Cop and Good Cop rolled into one.
“Tell me your safe word, Dane.”
“Good. I want you to talk to me if you feel uncomfortable. The safe word is a last resort. Are we clear on that?”
I reach into the pocket of my dark trousers and hold up a black leather wrist cuff attached to a twelve-inch chain-link lead with a nylon loop handle. “I need your left hand.”
There’s a definite pause before he complies, and I fight my doubt for asking this of him. Thankfully, he offers up his hand though it’s wadded into a tight fist. Those eyes say it all: this is hard for me.
“Thank you, Dane.” You made the right move in trusting me. The cuff closes with a simple buckle. There are no padlocks, no keyholes, just an easy-release button. I can have him out in seconds.
“My cuff looks good on you, boy. How does it feel?”
Dane doesn’t answer. “Dane?”
He lifts his gaze from his wrist to look me in the eye, and my heart lurches at his conflicted expression. I crouch down in front of him and stroke his hand. “Dane, I’m right here with you. Remember, I cuffed you so I can keep you close to me.” I lift the handle and hold it against my chest. “The only thing you’re bound to is me. Can you tolerate the cuff?”
He answers me instantly, “Yes, Master.”
Though I admire and respect the confident stage performer, the vulnerable Dane allowing me to take him down this dark, snarly path earns my deepest reverence. “I’m very proud of you, Dane. This is a huge step.”
Drawing a shaky breath, Dane releases his tight fist.
“That’s it, my boy.” I take his hand in mine and pull us both to our feet. My elation threatens to break free, but I restrict myself to a slow, steady pace as I walk us to the dungeon. I command Dane to hold onto the handrail after a nauseating premonition of him tumbling down the stairs disturbs my thoughts.
We reach the rug in the center of the dungeon, and I turn to face him, still grasping the end of the chain in my hand. “Dane, can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”
Without a word, he sinks to his knees, grasps me behind my calves, bends forward, and places his lips on my boot. He lifts slightly, just enough to shift to the opposite side and repeat the motion. Tipping his face up to mine, he seems to speak from another dimension, “Please use my body to satisfy your needs, Master.”
I’ve seen this before, the intense crashing through barriers that can be achieved by one seemingly minute breakthrough. Dane’s progress is nothing short of miraculous, so much more than I’d imagined we’d achieve tonight, yet his demeanor gives me pause. This is not the playful submissive who offered my cock a “soft landing place” after his massage.
I need to be sure I’m not just hearing what I want to hear, but understanding the true intent behind his words. I crouch again, leveling my height to his plane. Cupping his chin, I ask, “Dane, are you asking me to fuck you?”
Tears well in the boy’s eyes, and he answers without hesitation. “Yes, Master. Please.”
It’s the rare submissive I’d allow this much control. Coming from a place of great mistrust and abuse, Dane automatically requires more latitude. I chalk up the remainder of my permissiveness to Dane himself, a man to be taken at his word, a man who rarely asks for anything, a man who touches me deeply on every level. I’ve repeatedly encouraged his input, and I won’t deny this monumental request.
He vibrates with tension and need, which intensifies when I nod and shift into command mode. “Take off your underwear.”
Before “Yes, Master” is off his lips, Dane’s briefs are down his thighs and under his knees. My hand moves with his, a passive accomplice in the unveiling of his thick need, the soft clink of the chains reminding both of us we’re tethered for as long as I choose or until he asks to be released.
Though I’d love nothing more than to take that beautiful shaft down my throat, Dane needs to stay in his submissive head space, and it’s my job to keep him there. I loop the end of the leash around my wrist, watching Dane’s hand shadow mine as I swiftly rid myself of belt and pants. There’s no cheeky grin from him when I reveal my erection, and I won’t dishonor this intense moment by making light of it in any way.
Grateful for the lube and condom I keep stashed in my pants pocket, I grab both while ordering Dane onto his back. He registers surprise but scurries into position, opening his legs so I can knee-walk between them. His left hand becomes a dead weight in the air between us as I tear open the condom wrapper. Rather than have him continue to flop around aimlessly, I place his palm on my thigh, where his warm touch is most welcome. There’s enough slack in the chain that he doesn't hinder the motion of my hand, and I’m wrapped and ready in a flash. Now, to ready my beautiful bottom—and his beautiful bottom.
I squeeze out a few drops of lube while he blinks up at me. “Here we go, Dane.” My fingertips touch his perineum and his entire body tenses. The hand on my thigh clamps around me while its partner, lying on the brown shag rug, pulls into a tight fist.
“Easy, boy. Spread your legs for me and breathe.” Dane complies, pulling in a choppy breath and letting it out the same way. His eyes pierce me with their heedful stare, demanding my utmost care. I lift his right ankle to my shoulder, running my left hand down his perfectly toned leg from ankle to thigh as I lean into his body. He barely registers the stretch, and now I’m wondering exactly how limber he is. A question for a painfully horny Master another day . . .
I glide my fingertips downward; Dane stiffens once more. Though he desires this on an intellectual level, his body repels my touch. His abdomen tightens with his next deep breath. A thumb rolled gently over his sac draws a flinch. What the hell?
When I give his cock an experimental stroke from tip to base, Dane whimpers and twists. I pull back the guilty hand, dismayed at his apparent allergy to my hands.
“Dane, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Master. I’ll try harder.” He puffs up his cheeks and blows out three quick breaths like a woman in the throes of labor.
“No, Dane. That’s the problem. You’re trying too hard already.” I release his ankle from my shoulder and gently return it to the carpet. “It’s okay. We’ll try again another time.”
Dane’s upper body snaps up from the floor. “Master, please!” His eyes are wide with panic. “Don’t give up on me!”
In my haste to pull Dane into my arms, I drop the handle of the leash. Dane gasps with horror and eyes the loose chain hanging from his wrist.
“Mercy!” he cries, just a fraction of a second before my own safe word flies from my mouth.