“This isn’t normal, Ethan.”
“No such thing as normal, only the destined.”
“You’re going to destroy me.”
“I already have, and I’m going to keep you.”
The words are not romantic, they are a life sentencehanded down from a judge. A promise of a life in his cage, built purely for me. My head falls back against the glass and I start to breathe too fast, short gasps that become hard to control. He removes his hand from my throat before I slide down the glass until I’m sitting on the floor.
He stands back and watches me like a man observing a show, waiting to see the ending.
“You can hate me,” he says. “You can fight. You can lie to yourself.” He turns away to walk towards his bedroom, already certain, as he speaks over his shoulder.
“But you’re still mine.”
A tear escapes my left eye as I watch him leave. And the worst part is that a traitorous, broken part of me believes him.
After a few self loathing moments, I drag myself off the floor and follow Ethan to the bedroom. I have nothing left to say. Nothing left to give. This beautiful penthouse has become a tower of nightmares and pleasure. A prison that is slowly closing around my heart. I hate it here, but I want to be here.
When I walk inside the bedroom, Ethan is sitting in the bedroom chair, wearing only his underwear, waiting for me. The only light in the room is the city lights that blink outside, shading the room in multicolors.
“Take off your clothes,” he says, and I follow his order. I take my time, neatly folding my clothes with eachpiece I remove before placing them on the table that’s against the wall. I can feel his eyes burn into me as he watches, no doubt eating up every inch of my body until I’m standing only in my black underwear.
“Stand at the foot of the bed, and don’t move,” he says before he stands and disappears into his walk-in closet. He returns moments later with a large black box and my heart races at what it could be as he places it on the bed in front of me.
“Open it,” he says as he moves to stand behind me. He doesn’t touch me, but he’s close enough for me to feel his breath on the back of my neck. I open the box and I’m confused at first by the dark navy satin material. When I lift it out of the box, it’s super soft and sturdy and I’m perplexed when I notice I’m pretty sure it’s a corset?
“Is this…” I start to say before he takes it from me.
“I saw a man on Instagram who makes corsets for men, and I wanted to see what you would look like in one,” he says as he starts to fit it around my upper body. As he pulls at the back of the corset to secure it, it squeezes my chest, highlighting the curve of my pecs, creating a frame for my hard as fuck nipples. It rests just above my hipbones, cinching me in and no doubt highlighting my ass.
After he has fitted it in place I feel very unsure and uncomfortable, not knowing where to place my hands. He returns to his chair and assesses me before picking up his phone.
“Pose for me,” he says as he raises his phone to take pictures. What the fuck is happening?
“What? You can’t take pictures of me like this.”
“I can do what I want. Don’t worry, these are only for me.”
I place my hands on my hips and try to pose, feeling like the biggest fool in the world as he takes pictures. I know what he is trying to do, and part of me hates him for it. But another part of me cannot explain why I’m so turned on. The way he orders me, the way he is purposefully finding ways to make me feel uncomfortable, it’s like a release. It’s hard to understand but I like that he is deciding for me what to do. Knowing me without asking, being fully aware of what will turn me on. And it’s not just in the bedroom, he has been doing it in my life since we met and I’m starting to yearn for it. Need it. It’s all so new and confusing, I don’t know how to fully give in.
“You’re trying to humiliate me,” I say, making him aware I know his motives.
“Yes, and you love it. Now remove the underwear,” he says, and with shaky fingers I push down the material.
“Turn around and show me that sexy ass of yours,” he growls, and I hear the thud of his phone hitting the chair. I can sense from the movement behind me that he is standing now. I’m equally embarrassed and turned on right now, I’m so confused at the polar opposite feelings, that my nerves are on the verge of snapping.
“Bend over the bed and show me that hole,” he says before a tube of lube is thrown on the bed next to me. I do as he asks and I spread my legs apart so he can get a look. Minutes seem to pass as I just remain here, bent over thebed like some paid whore. I’m mortified, but I want him to like what he sees.
“You’re so good for me, Leo. Doing what I say, doing anything to make me happy. Such a good boy,” he says low and possessively. He’s humiliating me because he knows he can, because he thinks it’s ownership that makes me comply. And maybe that’s what this really is. He lives to be the owner, and I free myself to be owned. Adored.
“Open yourself up for me with the lube, I want to watch.”
Fucking hell, this is intense. The corset is digging into my flesh, and every moment that passes where my heart rate picks up it tightens around me like a vice. I grab the lube and coat my fingers on my right hand, before reaching behind myself, and start to run my fingers in a circular motion around my entrance, before inserting one finger, slowly and steadily.
Ethan takes a sharp intake of breath and I know he’s loving this. The room vibrates with his pleasure and I swear I can almost smell his scent, his cum that’s ready to fill me up. I finger fuck myself eagerly, secretly enjoying the sounds of the lube as it squelches in the air, it actually encourages me to be faster, to prove to Ethan I’m capable of anything.
“That’s it, get that ass gaping for my cock,” he groans as I feel him closing in on me. I feel his legs hit the back of mine as I bury my face in utter shame when I picture what I must look like. I look like a slut, I look eager, I think I look fucking hot.
