“That’s it, cherub,” I soothed. “Let Daddy help you.”
His back arched, thighs shaking, but I kept the wand steady, not allowing him any respite.
The pleasure built fast, too fast—no edging now, just raw overload. Elior’s breath came in ragged pants, his toes curling against the tub’s bottom. “I can’t—it’s too much! Please! I’m gonna die! No, n-no—” His pleas dissolved into wordless moans as the vibrations rattled his balls, forcing him ever closer toward the edge.
I watched with dark hunger, my own arousal stirring again at the sight of Elior’s desperation, although there was no way I was going to be able to go for another round.
“Let it happen, baby. Give it to me.”
Elior’s body stiffened, ropes of cum spurting out of the cage, his cock pulsing wildly. A guttural scream echoed off the walls,his body convulsing in ecstasy that bordered on pain.
But I didn’t stop. The vibrations kept going, dragging Elior through the aftershocks into hypersensitivity.
His face twisted in panic. “No, no, no, Daddy—stop—something else is coming! Stop, p-please! No, no—”
“Give it to me, El.” My voice was steady, commanding, as I pressed the massager harder against the base of the cage, feeling the vibrations thrum through his core.
“No, please, Daddy!” He writhed, trying to twist away from me, his bound hands clenching into fists as the pressure built unbearably in his lower belly.
“Let go, cherub. Now.”
A choked sob escaped him, and then it happened—his hips jerked forward, and a gush of clear fluid squirted from around the cage’s bars, forceful and uncontrollable, spraying out in hot, rhythmic bursts. It mixed with the remnants of his cum, the sensation ripping yet another strangled cry from his throat as the waves of the intense release washed over him, his muscles quaking from the forced squirting that left him utterly spent.
“Fucking perfect,” I breathed, reaching for my phone and opening the camera app.
Elior sat there twitching, covered in the mess I’d drawn out of him.
Gorgeous—another one for the locked folder.
18
Elior
So, maybe I’d overestimated myself… or at least underestimated Jace.
I’d thought I’d seen the edges of what he was capable of. I’d seen him tense and brooding, watched him clamp down on himself like a lid on something boiling.
But now…
Now I had a feeling that that side of him went far deeper than I’d thought.
I could’ve written off the weird things he’d said about kidnapping me as just very strange sex talk. From what Daddy had shown me on his computer, it seemed like there were a lot of people who liked all sorts of crazy things.
But the way he’d said it, the way his tone had been—I didn’t think it was just a sex thing. It was hard to explain, but something in me knew that there was truth in his words. My brain was telling me that if Jacehadmet me another way—a way where no one was invested in me, no one was watching—he would have taken me.
The other thing that threw me was how fast he’d reverted to the Jace I knew best.
One moment, the air had been thick and heavy and terrifying in a way that made my body hum. The next, he was back to “normal,” like he’d shoved that part of himself back into a closet in the recesses of his mind.
He’d peppered my face with kisses as his hands had worked to remove the blindfold. And once it was off, and he’d thrown it onto the bathroom floor, he’d looked at me with the deepest adoration.
“Hey, baby,” he’d said softly, voice steady. “Let’s get you cleaned up and comfy.”
I remembered blinking up at him, my head fuzzy, my body buzzing in strange, leftover ways. Words were too heavy for my tongue then, and he understood.
The zip ties were carefully cut away. He didn’t yank or rush. He rubbed my wrists and ankles as soon as they were free, thumbs pressing into my skin in firm, soothing circles until the pins-and-needles feeling eased.
“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he’d murmured.
