He stops abruptly and I whine. His only answer is a laugh, followed by cool lube and the press of a plug against my pulsing hole.
“So needy for me,” he comments, pressing the tip inside.
“Yes,” I agree. I have no reason to pretend like I’m not. Though I wish it was his cock pushing inside my ass, instead of the plug.
“I could play with this ass all night,” he contemplates, dipping the plug halfway then pulling it out. He does this multiple times, until I can’t take it anymore.
“Eros,” I beg. “Please—”
He seats the plug completely inside me and swats my ass. “I love it when you beg. I can’t wait to hear more of it. Now get up on your knees for me.”
I don’t waste time, doing as he says. His weight has left the bed and there’s silence. I can’t even hear his breathing, only my own.
I grip the comforter in my fingers, the silence and anticipation weighing down on me and making my skin prickle. Without Eros touching me, and in this new position, I feel the plug in my ass. The solid weight of it is heavy and teasing.
Another minute drags on, and then another. My nipples are hard and my cock thickens, more pre-cum leaking from the head, cool against the overheated and sensitive skin.
Everything is heightened with my eyesight gone. Every nerve ending in my body is firing, my ears working overtime to hear him, or get a sense of what he’ll do next. But there’s nothing. He’s like a ghost, and it’s driving me mad with need.
“Eros,” I plead. He did say he likes it when I beg. “Please touch me, I can’t wait anymore.Please.”
There’s a slight dip to the bed letting me know he’s there. I expect a spank or a tap to the plug in my ass, not the feeling of—a feather? He doesn’t speak, just moves whatever it is over my back, so gently it tickles. The sensation is soft yet hard. That’s why I’m unsure if it actually is a feather or not.
He still doesn’t speak as he drifts the object over my muscles. The feel of it changing depending on which direction he moves it. Forward moving it’s soft, backward, it’s like a bristle of a brush. He trails it over my shoulder blades then up the back of my neck. I shiver and he drags it down the backs of my arms. It tickles and I squirm.
The sensation of the feather-like object leaves, and then I’m swatted by what feels like a thin shaft of metal. It doesn’t hurt, just stings a bit.
“Stay still, or I’ll spank you again,” Eros barks.
“Yes, Eros.”
His reply of“good boy”has my cock bobbing, and he returns the object back to my skin, though this time it’s not a feather or whatever it was before, but a sharp tip. Like the edge of a knife.
“Eros, what is—”
The shaft swats me again, this time against the backs of my thighs. I yelp in pain, Eros only speaking when the echo of my strained voice has gone.
“Trust me, Theo. I’m not going to injure you.” His mouth presses to my shoulder blade, and he leaves a delicate rain of kisses over the skin. “Only cause the pain you crave.”
“You promise?”
He drags a hand through my hair and down my back, as if he’s stroking me like I’m his pet. The rings on his hand are an interesting and cold sensation on my skin. I probably shouldn’t find so much pleasure in it, but I do. My back arches for more ofit. He gives in and does it again, his hand trailing lower until he’s gently caressing my taint.
His lips find my ear. “I promise. May I continue?”
“Yes.”
Maybe I shouldn’t say yes. Maybe I shouldn’t trust him after all. But I can’t help it. This stranger, who’s becoming not so much of a stranger anymore, makes me feel safe. Stupid? Maybe, that too. But if I’m going to die, this is a hell of a way to go.
“Try not to think so much,” Eros says, the sharp point of the object returning to the base of my spine. “Settle into the sensations. Don’t try to guess what I’m using, just trust me to make you feel everything I want you to feel.”
Eros guides me through several breaths, the point of the object not moving while he does. Only when I’m relaxed does he start again.
He drags the point over every line and muscle he can see, switching the pressure from hard to soft, occasionally switching back to the stiff feather-like sensation. With every stroke, I shift deeper into the experience. Doing what he said, and focusing on what I’m feeling.
Excitement, desire, anticipation, and pain. Pain from the pulsing of my hard cock, and the bite of the sharp object when he presses hard enough. I have no doubt he’s leaving faint red marks upon my skin.
This goes on for a time. Tracing the muscles of my back and legs, finding all the soft places of skin that make me quiver and moan. Like the backs of my knees, my ankles and the insides of my thighs. Every time he gets close to touching the crease of my ass, my taint, or my cock, he pulls back. Retreating to my shoulders, or other places not as sensitive.
