“Master?” Cedrych asked, for I’d been quiet for too long.
“Right here, my love. Try to relax now.” I sat on the bed beside him and used the feather to trace his skin like an artist’s brush to a canvas. I traveled across his lovely torso and along his muscular arms. I gave his pierced nipples some extra attention until they stood in soft peaks, my vanadium glinting in the low light, then I moved down to his cock, tracing the veins I adored so much.
“Master,” Cedrych murmured, trying to chase the sensation with his hands.
“Hands at your sides,” I reminded. “Spread your legs wider now.” He did as was told, and I reached for a candle that had been burning on the bedside table. Pinching the flame to put it out, I waited for the hot wax to cool just a little before dripping a little of it onto his pebbled sac.
“Ahhh,” he gasped.
“Too hot?”
“No, just… surprising.”
The liquid wax snaked down toward his hole, which winked at me coyly.
“Master,” he moaned, curling inward on his supine form.
“Yes, my handsome sub?”
“What are you doing to me right now?”
“I’m playing with you,” I said simply. I peeled away the wax, now hardened, which aroused another kind of sensation in my sensitive sub. Cedrych’s cock was fully hard and bobbing like a buoy against his flat abdomen. I grabbed a vial of oil and, grabbing his dominant hand, splashed some of the oil onto his palm.
“Touch yourself,” I commanded.
Cedrych hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to touch himself for pleasure, and he wassometimesa very good boy who listened. “Master, are you sure?” he asked.
“I’ve given you explicit permission,” I said.
He grabbed hold, and like a kid in a candy store, stroked swiftly and without restraint. He was clearly taking advantage of the opportunity, so seldom granted, as if I might let him come that easily.
“Stop,” I said suddenly and he immediately ceased all motion, but not without a dramatic groan of displeasure, and he didn’t let go. His chest heaved with beads of sweat dotting his pecs and dripping down the valley of his torso. “Hold yourself still until you’ve calmed down and then you may begin again.”
“Master,” Cedrych said, his voice edged with impatience.
“You know the rules, Cedrych. And that doesn’t sound like begging to me,” I said.
“Master,please?” he tried again.
“Not yet, my love. Not until you’ve earned it. When you’re desperate and shaking and cursing the day you agreed to be my betrothed. When your blood is burning and your muscles wish to crawl right out of your skin. Only then will I allow you to come. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he whined with a lovely pout on his face, just for me. Maybe he’d cry too. One could only hope.
“Maybe, sweet prince, if you please me.”
Cedrych took a deep breath, centering himself before beginning again. He stroked slower this time and with more caution. Was he trying to sneak an orgasm by me? He could certainly try, but I knew his anatomy better than my own, including all the tells of an oncoming release. So, as his balls began to draw up tight and his prick began to bob enthusiastically in his hand, I commanded him again to stop.
“You are cruel,” he said with a bit of melancholy. He couldn’t see the smirk on my face or know the extent of my pleasure in denying him.
“I know, my dear, but you agreed to this, didn’t you?” I taunted. The more stubborn he was, the better.
“Yes, I suppose I did,” he said, sounding bereft.
“And are you having regrets?” I asked.
“Some,” he admitted.
“You know that you canhaltme at any time.”
