“Harness first,” I told him.
He made a sound of protest, his eyes widening.
“I’ll keep my word, and you know it,” I said. “But I don’t want you trying to bite me while I’m getting the harness situated.”
The whine he made was so puppy-like that it got a smile out of me, and I gestured for him to move closer.
Reluctantly, he obeyed, and I started getting him into the thing. I was glad I’d looked at the design and the guide for it, because there were so many buckles and straps that I would’ve been lost trying to figure out how to make it work.I wouldn’t even need padlocks for this, even if I took the mitts off. He wouldn’t be able to get this thing off of himself.
When I was done, I took a step back to inspect my handiwork, nodding in approval. His lithe body looked gorgeous trapped inside the harness. He looked even more perfect with those mitts on his hands, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes as he obviously wondered if I was going to take the gag out.
I didn’t want to, but I’d said I would.
“C’mere, my good boy,” I told him gently.
He eyed me, but he leaned in, letting me more easily reach the strap holding the ball gag in place. I freed him from it and helped him get it out of his mouth.
He was crying, then. It felt strange because I had done something good, hadn’t I? The harness wasn’t nearly as bad as the gag.
“What’s wrong?” I stupidly asked.
But instead of going into some wild diatribe, he only choked on a half-sob, half-laugh. “What isn’t?” he croaked out.
“It’ll get better,” I told him, feeling a little awkward when I had to face those tears. I didn’t know how they could turn me on and make me uncomfortable all at once, but they managed. “You’ll get used to it. No more new things for a few days, okay?” I ran my fingers through his hair, and he just let me. Heartened, I continued, “We’ll just keep doing what we’re doing, and as long as you’re good, we won’t even need the gag.”
He shook his head but didn’t speak, which meant he’d learned at least one lesson.
“It’ll be okay,” I promised him. “You’ll see.”
13
Ryder
It’ll be okay. You’ll see.
Those words haunted me, almost as though they were whispered in my ear at random intervals to keep me off balance. I had gained my footing a little bit, growing more confident in what was going to happen each day.
True to his word, he hadn’t wavered from his declaration that things would hold steady. I didn’t think that would last forever, but it was enough to make a sense of — false — security set in.
I knew that was what he wanted, but it got more and more exhausting to resist his gentle fingers in my hair or his hands running along my skin. I just endured it, knowing it would be over with soon enough, even if the ensuing whisper of “good boy” was almost as bad as the rest.
No. Worse.
Every day, I begged him not to make me put the nozzle of the enema’s tubing in my ass. Every day, I gave in. Every day, I begged him to let me take it out.
I should’ve just done it, defiant and uncaring of what he thought or felt. After all, I knew I was only going to yieldanyway. It was a disconcerting thought — and not a pleasant one. It kept sneaking up on me when I least expected it, too, and it was there whether I wanted to admit to it or not.
I wasn’t sure how many days had passed, not really, but there had been five sets of enemas, so I had to figure it had been almost a week. That thought was insanity-inducing. Almost a week in this basement cell, where it was normal to curl up in a dog bed with a blanket that really needed a wash.
I wanted to sleep all the time, but the dreams were worse than the reality. And he was always there, always, whether I was awake or not.
I knew the man had been famous once, then he’d gotten into… some accident. I hadn’t followed the gossip rags, so I wasn’t sure entirely what had happened, but an ex-girlfriend had chattered about what a tragedy it had been. Hadn’t he saved someone’s life or something? Wasn’t that why he was burned so badly?
Great. The last thing I needed was to start feeling bad for him. I couldn’t think of him as a person. He was a beast in every way, and he wasn’t letting up no matter how much I rebelled or obeyed. He just… kept going until he got what he wanted, when I was too worn down to argue or fight or even cry.
As I’d obeyed more, the food had gotten better, but I still had to eat it without my hands. Those were all wrapped up unless he was having me humiliate myself in front of him, and I’d stopped fighting that, too. What was the point?
“It’s time for something new today.”
