Knowing Basil might run again—and then I’d get to punish him harder—I stepped away to the dresser to get lotion. It wasn’t necessary, but I liked rubbing his peachy ass.
“Where are you going?”
Basil’s question caught me off guard, and I saw he was looking at me. A few longer strands of his wavy hair had fallen into his eyes, and I couldn’t help reaching over to brush them aside. There was fear and confusion there, but fear of what?
“You did well, Basil. I’m going to rub some lotion on you, then I’ll take you to the bathroom.”
Basil licked his lips and nodded, “Okay…Daddy.”
Moving to stand behind him, I was struck by Basil using that word after the spanking was over. I’d only meant for it to be used as humiliation during his punishment, but it did something to me. Besides that one gal, I never had anyone use the term for me before. I was Don, Giorgio, Boss, Papa, and George, but not Daddy.
While I still wanted to hurt Basil and play with his body as my personal sex toy, his calling me Daddy also made me want to protect him. I chalked it up to being a father, as I rubbed the lotion into his reddened skin. It was an act of care, and I wasn’t going to go against my instincts now. They’d been serving me well for five decades.
Basil moaned and whined when I got to sore spots, but otherwise stayed silent. I could only imagine how chastity felt if this was turning him on. Pulling on his rope, I stood him up and pressed myself against Basil’s back. His hands were between us, in just the right place for him to feel how hard I was. He went stiff, but didn’t move his hands away.
Progress.
Walking him past my closet, we entered my en suite. It was a wet room with more shower heads than one man needed, and two sinks, plus a toilet room where I led the boy. When my late wife insisted on a bidet, I got a urinal stall, but that wasn’t what I wanted. Basil was wide-eyed, taking in the floor to ceiling quartz, and didn’t say anything until I turned him to sit on the toilet.
“I just need to take a piss.” I raised an eyebrow, and he finished differently than I’d expected. “Daddy.”
Clearing my throat to hide how it affected me, I stepped back and crossed my arms. “So, pee.”
“But–how?” He looked down at the cage around his cock, dangling heavily over the toilet bowl. Looking back at me in disgust, he asked, “Are you going to watch?”
“The chastity device packaging said you can pee in it, and I don’t trust you not to try anything,” I shrugged, grinning. “Let’s see if you can rise to the challenge?”
Basil twisted and turned his body like he could hide it. I wasn’t sure if he really had to go and didn’t want to piss with me watching, or had performance anxiety, but I decided to help. I stepped to the bidet and turned it on low. The small fountain stream made a trickling sound. Basil groaned and then I heard the telltale sound.
“Good boy. Now to clean you up,” I lifted Basil under his arms and over the bidet, since I didn’t want the cage covered in piss. He grumbled again but couldn’t do anything until I stood him up and grabbed a clean hand towel from a nearby shelf to dry him. He did not like that either. “Are you hungry now? Or is it hangry?”
Basil’s face was beet red to match his ass, and I could only grin. He was so much fun to fuck with.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BASIL
Chastity was not fun.I didn’t even know it was a thing still, let alone for people with dicks. I could generally ignore my random twitches at things I was definitely not turned on by, but the cage made every one jarring. I noticed what was turning me on.
Being manhandled shouldn’t turn me on. A spanking should have done the opposite, and yet… Peeing in front of a man really shouldn’t turn me on, and it sure made things more difficult. Calling George, Daddy? I couldn’t even go there.
George acted like it was perfectly normal to have a man tied up in his bed, but a few comments told me he was trying new things. His face never revealed much beyond excitement at my pain and displeasure when I disobeyed. Every so often, if I paid close attention, his mask would slip.
The man I tried to kill got a thrill out of controlling me. He also seemed to enjoy feeding me.
“Hello, Basil,” George stated–as if he hadn’t tied me to a chair and put cartoons on– walking through the door with my third meal of the day. “Ready for Dinner?”
Lunch had been peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, followed by him brushing my teeth. He still hadn’t untied my hands, so everything was done by George for me. It was humiliating, oddly sweet, and yeah, my cock tried to get hard from that, too. Watching a rabbit and duck fight made me feel like I was the duck, constantly being outsmarted by the rabbit.
All day, he touched me. Brushing his fingers over the openings in my cage, a tease that made me strain within my steel confines. He laid kisses on my head and cheeks, followed by tweaks to my nipples. I was on edge, literally and figuratively.
It was all too much, and I’d had enough.
George set the tray on the table, and I wanted to flip it over in his face. He stood there, smugly waiting for me to ask him to feed me. My hands were uncomfortable behind the chair back and my legs had been secured as well. All I had was my voice.
“No.”
“No? If I haven’t told you yet, you are free to say no and stop anytime.”
