Why did that calm something in me?
Rewards came when I gave up control and listened. Thinking before I spoke and insulting him got me what I wanted. Even if my wanting orgasms from the man holding me captive was insane.
Punishments were so often tied to sex as well. He never withheld basic necessities, only his presence. Somehow, I craved it after only two days. I couldn’t deny that some of his discipline turned me on.
Maybe it was Pavlovian. George gave me orgasms, and I associated his arrival with good feelings. That made more sense than having Stockholm syndrome this quickly. But I couldn’t remember how many days Pavlov’s dog took to remember the bell.
Either way, he had me drooling.
All of my other thoughts were an attempt to distract from the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about gay sex. I popped boners all the time in my daily life, but I was twenty-three and rarely jacked off. This was different.
When George had come all over me, I wished it had been in my mouth. When he licked at my hole, I craved something bigger, harder. His finger traced the spot inside me and I’d exploded. How much better would it feel with his dick?
This was a problem.
My whole life I’d been told that men attracted to men were fucked in the head, testing out their deviancy, and definitely not fit for the Bratva. My father called me too frail and too pretty on the rare occasions I’d seen him. Ivanna had Gregor teach me about dressing masculine, being more stoic and deeper voiced, and keeping private things private.
Felix being outed and in an openly queer relationship had upended a lot of my beliefs. My boss used all the pronouns, wore makeup, and dated a man. Ivanna had raged, but ultimately, the family sided with Felix over her.
Then along came George, and my world felt like anM.C. Escherpainting, all stairways to nowhere and warped reflections. Nothing connected to what I’d been told or made sense with what I expected.
My thoughts were spiraling more than usual because George had left me alone. One ankle was chained to his bed, but I could walk to the table to sit. There was food and a water pitcher there, but also a bucket to piss in. That was his solution when I pointed out how short my leash was.
“What if I need to pee?”
George disappeared for a few minutes and returned with an empty paint can. “I would love to see how you react to peeing with the hollow sound, so hopefully you can hold it for a few hours.”
“A few hours?” I heard the panic in my voice but couldn’t hold it back. “Where are you going?”
“Something came up I have to attend to in person,” was the only explanation I got. “I’ll be back.”
He had tried to do the famous Austrian’s accent, but it sounded very Italian, with George smirking at his own joke. I’d crossed my arms and turned away from him on the bed, pouting. This man seriously brought out the brat in me.
George kissed the top of my head and tugged on the collar he left on me until I faced him. “Be good, and I’ll reward you when I’m home.”
At least an hour had passed, and I was fucking lonely.
Never in my life had I longed for another to be in my personal space, but there I was. I forced myself to eat a bowl of pasta and drank half of the water, paced, turned on mindless reality TV, and turned it off again. I’d even peed in the can. The water was probably to blame, but I couldn’t hold it any longer.
Peeing with a sound in had been an experience that distracted me momentarily. It was a mix of pleasure and discomfort, confusion and eroticism. So it was like everything with George. The bad always came with good, and I wasn’t ready for any of it.
Sure, I could make a scene, throw things around, but he’d probably make me clean it up with some new form of sexual torture. A maid costume? A butt plug? I shuddered, and not from fear. Would he call me names in Italian again? I was never sure if they were sweet or cruel, but they sounded nice.
A plug was a whole other thing, though. I’d seen a couple when I got bored and looked in the drawer beside the bed. George had removed the gun and my knife, along with the key to my chastity device, but it was stacked with other things. If his tongue felt great and his finger amazing, how would something bigger feel? I wanted to find out but would never ask.
Pulling the drawer open again, I stood by the bed and took in the options. Three different kinds of lube made me question my masturbatory sessions. There was a string of graduated balls, which I found daunting beyond the first two. A large, rainbow-speckled dildo was still in its packaging. No way would I attempt that big boy, though it was smaller than George.
Had he overnighted these things just for me? The thought made me smile. Seriously? He kidnapped me and chained me to his bed. I was messed up in the head.
In another clear plastic bundle, there were five butt plugs in different sizes. Before I could overthink it, I ripped the encasement open and laid them out. They were all black, silicone with flared bases and pointed tips. The smallest one was no thicker than my little finger, and not what I needed. The second had ridges, and I wasn’t sure how I’d like that, while the two biggest seemed too far. The plug in the middle looked about as thick as two or three of George’s fingers. Just right.
Before I could second guess myself, I grabbed the lube that said “water-based” and leaned over the bed. I’d never played with my hole before, but I felt so empty. It took a lot of lube before I got the tip in, and then I pushed in once and it popped past the barrier of resistance. I sighed, feeling better, but also very naughty.
Would George be happy I did something with my ass, or mad I did it without permission? I rutted against the bed, making myself hurt even more. I ached in my ass and my dick, and there was no way for me to ease it on my own.
Fuck. I just wanted George to fuck me already and stop with the teasing and games.
Well, fuck, indeed. Once that thought crossed my mind, I was vibrating with need and in a lot of pain in my cage. It strained and lifted the stainless steel, obvious in my nakedness. I wanted to jack off, but I couldn’t for a lot of reasons. Besides being locked up, I didn’t think he’d like it.
