“There we go,” I told him, running my hand along his stomach. “Just lie quietly for me.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he said, sounding a little stunned.
“No,” I said. “It shouldn’t.”
“But—” He at least had the sense not to finish that sentence.
As much as I wanted to see him cry, I wanted to see relief, too. I wanted to see this, to see him at my mercy and expecting pain only to get something else entirely. I wanted more, too.
We were both quiet as the bag slowly emptied into him, as the discomfort finally started to settle in, and he began to squirm. I should’ve stopped it there, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want this to be everything. I had to make him remember that I could bring peace and I could bring pleasure — but I could also bring pain.
Ordinarily, I’d have had him suffer at his own hands, knowing he was responsible for his own torment, but today, I wanted to be hands-on. I roughly grabbed his ass cheeks, squeezing them and watching the way his hole clenched around the hard piece of plastic. His belly was getting swollen, just like I liked it, and my hand slid down his body to touch it.
He whimpered, and that was when I saw it.
There were tears glinting in the corners of his eyes.
It sent a shock through me, an electric pulse that went directly to my cock, and I was instantly hardening in my pants. It was what I’d wanted to see, what I hadn’t been willing to do, but at the same time…
I’d pushed him here and he hadn’t argued.
He hadn’t protested.
He’d just taken it, and now he was quietly crying as the last of the bag drained out into his ass and left him utterly full. I didn’t want to see him sobbing, didn’t want to utterly ruin this moment, but I reveled in those tears for a moment. Then I finally, reluctantly told him, “Up. Let’s get you emptied out.”
The look of relief on his features was made better by the tears trailing down his cheeks,
I helped him out of the tub, but he couldn’t hold it in when he stood. The humiliation on his face more than made up for the fact that he hadn’t been the one to slide the nozzle into his own ass. He couldn’t help it. His own body betrayed him, and he hated it.
I wondered in that moment if he hated me too.
I grabbed his arm and helped him to the toilet, sitting him down before more water could escape.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable, and shame made his cheeks redden all over again. He’d have to learn one day that this was simply inevitable, that I was going to be there through everything.
Everything.
Good and bad, happy and sad, and everything in between.
I held his life in my hands, and fuck, that thought never ceased to arouse me.
I waited for him to finish emptying his bowels before helping him back to his feet. “Let’s get you bathed,” I told him.
There was definite gratitude then, something I loved to see. He couldn’t help it any more than he could help his shame, and I didn’t want him to learn how.
“Such a good boy, Toby,” I told him softly as I guided him back into the tub and closed the door behind him.
He stiffened, but he didn’t argue — another sign of his growing acceptance of the situation. Good. It was good he was learning.
It meant I had a chance in hell of getting what I wanted so badly.
3
RYDER
Ishouldn’t have enjoyed the idea of a bath as much as I did, but there was something compelling about getting clean. He’d been gentle the last time, even if I hated the feeling of his hands on me.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t hate the touch. After so long of being trapped down here alone — however long it was; I didn’t even know — the little touches were a reminder that I was alive. I was a tactile person and always had been, and…
