Every facet of my life demands control. But Brody demands nothing. Nothing except the soft underbelly of the hardened shell I show to the world. Nothing but the truth of who I am at my basest level.
And my surrender.
This asshole wants me to service him, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to.
I don’t!
But if I’m honest with myself, there’s a part of me—a small, ugly, shameful part of me—that is quite literally twitching with anticipation. Vibrating like my veins are live wires sending pulses of electricity to and from those secret pathways in my brain and body I can’t seem to turn off ever since that day in the stairwell. The day that awakened the part of me that came alive when he stripped me of my control and told me exactly what to do.
I clamp my teeth together like I can bite off the urge to answer instead of insisting I don’t know what he’s talking about.
Maybe he can see me. Or maybe this is just a game to him. A game he won. A game I didn’t have to agree to, but did, because deep down part of me craves the downward spiral into oblivion.
His breath brushes over the sensitive skin of my neck and sends a shiver down my spine. He’s talking to me, but the feel of the words spoken over the shell of my ear is louder than his voice.
It takes too long to process the words that made my knees so weak. I had to lock them up to avoid buckling to the floor.
“Get on your knees.”
“W-wha–already?” My mind scrambles to make sense of things, to stall the inevitability of the moment. “But it’s not midnight yet,” I say dumbly.
Brody smirks. “No time like the present. We might as well get it over with. Unless you want to talk about your feelings or something first.” His words are delivered in a biting, sarcastic tone, but underneath it, I get the odd feeling that he’s serious.
The idea of talking about what’s happening here, admitting to any part of it out loud, is far scarier than the idea of putting his dick in my mouth. And he knows it.
I swallow thickly, then flinch when Brody places a firm hand on my shoulders. “I won’t repeat myself again, Beckett. Get on your knees, or I’ll make you.”
There’s something wrong with my legs. Some kind of muscle malfunction or stroke-like activity that shuts down how they’re supposed to function. They buckle and fold so easily, it’s like Brody’s voice has more control over them than my own brain does.
“Good boy,” Brody croons, combing his fingers through my hair. My eyes flutter, the gentle scratch of his fingernails on my scalp lulling me into a peaceful, docile moment where I forget what we’re here to do and just sink into a blissful state.
I’m barely able to keep myself rooted in reality, but I cling to an edge of sanity just long enough to dart my eyes around the dark room. “What if someone comes down here?” I ask, my voice a rough whisper. It’s a Saturday, and although most of the dorm is either out partying or hanging out in the rec room, there’s always a chance someone might decide to take the back stairwell. Most people use the elevator or the larger set of stairs at the front ofthe building, but plenty of people who live towards the back of the dorms use this stairwell regularly.
Brody shrugs, like getting caught with his dick out wouldn’t be a big deal. Of course, he’d be the one getting his dick sucked, not caught on his knees submitting to someone he hates, so it’d be way less embarrassing. Does he not care if anyone knows he’s hooking up with a guy?
No, not hooking up. This isn’t a hookup. It’s a bet. A power exchange. A way to humiliate and embarrass me. My punishment for being a weak asshole.
“You didn’t see me when you came down here,” Brody says, giving me a sliver of peace of mind.
“But what if–”
“You need to think less,” Brody says. “Think less and pay attention to me more. Because right now, I’m in charge. You might get to be top dog everywhere else, but right now, I’m your fucking captain. Understand?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My vocal cords basically collapse. It takes so much mental fortitude to keep myself from nodding that I start to sweat. My mouth is dry.
“What’s wrong, puppy? Don’t want to call me captain?”
Brody combs his hand through my hair one more time, then brings it around the back of my head and around to cup my face. His thumb presses against my lips, caresses back and forth, before applying pressure. My lips and teeth part, letting him push into my mouth. It tastes faintly of salt and soap, the skin smooth as it glides over the tip of my tongue. Suddenly my mouth is no longer dry. Instead, there’s an abundance of salivathat I don’t know what to do with. I can’t get my throat to work to swallow, but the movement of my neck to attempt it seems to encourage him to push his thumb in farther to stroke over my tongue.
“That’s it,” he croons. “Turn off your brain and open that pretty mouth for me.”
His thumb disappears only to be replaced by two long, thick fingers. They push into my mouth, filling my senses with more of the vague reminder of salt and soap. They rub back and forth over my tongue, pushing farther back, testing my gag reflex.
He hooks my bottom teeth and pulls me towards him as he bends down to put his face in mine. His breath is soft, warm, and smells sweet, brushing over my spit-covered open lips in a husky whisper. “If at any point you want to back down, all you have to do is tap me twice on the hip, and when I pull out, call me captain. Got it?”
I don’t respond fast enough, because he yanks my head up and down, then side to side. “Do you understand me? You do what I say and choke on my cock, or you call me your captain. That’s your safe word.”
Finally, I give in and nod my agreement. He pushes practically his whole hand deeper into my mouth, my jaw forced to widen, purposefully pressing the back of my throat to make me gag. My gaze lifts to glance at him, curious to see how he's reacting to me like this, and let out a breath through my nose, not realizing that I’d been holding it. Drool leaks from the corners of my mouth and down my chin, and a tear falls from the water gathering in my eyes.
