The look of rapture on his face is utterly mesmerizing. His eyes are closed, his cheeks flushed, his soft lips parted. My cock is giving him ecstasy. I’m not just filling his guts, I’m filling him with profound joy.
Watching him is making me realize that everyone I’ve ever been with was faking it. I’ve clearly been a shit lover. A fact I need to remedy immediately. I have to stop being a selfish bastard.
But in my defense, I’ve never fucked anyone I’ve cared about, and they were only fucking me for money or prestige. Because they wanted something.
Ginni only wants me. I’m pretty sure he’d still ride my cock if I only had a cardboard box to my name. And that’s exhilarating.
He picks up the pace. Bouncing away. His ass is so tight. The little noises of joy he is making are so sweet. Each one is making my cock even harder. Sex has never felt this amazing.
Ginni’s head tilts back, exposing his long, pale throat and making him look utterly wanton. His hands are tangled in his dark hair. He is wailing with euphoria.
He clenches tightly around me. Quivering and milking. The front of his white silk panties floods with wetness, growing dark.
He just came hands-free. From my cock alone.
I grunt and see stars. My orgasm burns through me, hot enough to burn. It rolls on and on. My cock spurting and spurting deep inside Ginni’s ass. Fireworks sparking through my psyche. Nerve endings humming with rapture.
Ginni shivers and sighs. Taking each rope of my cum with obvious appreciation. When I’m finally done, he smiles down at me like a benevolent god.
He reaches for the butt plug that’s still by my chained foot. “I want to keep your cum for as long as possible.”
A groan escapes me. Deep inside Ginni’s ass, my softening cock twitches.
I’m doomed. So fucking doomed.
Chapter twelve
Ginni
Iclimb off the bed slowly, my entire body still humming with satisfaction and wonder. What we just shared was beyond anything I could have imagined, better than every fantasy I’ve harbored for the past five years. Carlo was so gentle with me, so careful, treating my gift to him with the reverence it deserved.
My legs are slightly unsteady as I pad across the room, but I feel like I’m floating on air. Everything is different now. I’m different. We’re truly husband and wife in every sense, bound together by something deeper than law or ceremony. The physical connection we just shared has transformed everything between us, made us complete in ways I never dared hope for.
The butt plug is keeping his cum where it belongs, and there is a delicious ache in my ass. I can still feel an echo of him inside me. The memory makes me shiver with residual pleasure and something deeper, more profound. I gave him everything Ihad to give, my most precious gift, and he accepted it with such tenderness that I nearly wept from the beauty of it.
I retrieve the cattle prod from under the bed, noting how Carlo’s eyes track the movement but without his usual panic. There’s something different in his gaze now, something softer.
Progress. Beautiful, undeniable progress that makes my heart sing with hope.
“Time for your evening routine,” I announce cheerfully, moving to unlock his restraints with practiced efficiency. The key turns smoothly, and I help him sit up properly, working the circulation back into his arms with gentle massage.
Carlo doesn’t fight me as I guide him to his feet. His movements are careful, almost deferential, and I have to bite back a pleased smile. He’s learning to trust me, to accept that I only want what’s best for him. The change in his behavior is subtle but unmistakable. Less resistance, more cooperation. Like he’s finally beginning to understand that fighting this will only make both of us miserable.
It is wonderful not to have to shackle him. So much progress in such a short amount of time.
“Take as long as you want,” I tell him softly as we reach the bathroom door, my voice warm with genuine care. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
I close the door behind him and lean against it, listening to the sound of running water and allowing myself a moment of pure happiness. This is what I’ve dreamed of for so long. Taking care of Carlo, being his partner in all the small intimacies of daily life. Even something as simple as his evening shower becomes magical when we’re truly together.
The shower runs for a long time, longer than last time, and I wonder if he’s taking extra care tonight. Perhaps washing away the last remnants of his old life, preparing himself for our futuretogether. The thought makes me giddy with anticipation for all the nights to come.
When he emerges, hair damp and skin flushed from the heat, he looks almost ethereal in the artificial light. Droplets of water cling to his shoulders, and I have to resist the urge to lick them away. There will be time for that later, when we’re both ready.
He walks directly back to the bed without prompting, without hesitation, without any attempts to test boundaries or look for escape routes. He simply settles against the pillows and extends his wrists for the restraints like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Of course, it could be the cattle prod I’m pointing at him, but surely it’s more likely that he is behaving because he is accepting our glorious future.
My heart nearly bursts with pride and love. “Such a good husband,” I murmur, securing the cuffs but leaving them significantly looser than before. His skin looks slightly raw from the metal, angry red marks that make my chest ache with sympathy. I can’t bear the thought of him being uncomfortable, especially not because of something I’ve done.
