Page 34

The knock that came at the hatch door was hesitant, but undeniably there. I felt a dark satisfaction curl deep in my chest as I turned the handle and pushed it open.

Sig stood in the dim entryway looking completely wrecked already. His eyes were downcast, his shoulders tight, and he wore his heavy black hoodie like a shield he already knew I’d strip off his back. His scent hit me immediately. It was a sharp, nervous sweat mixed with the faint, lingering traces of my cologne still clinging to his skin. Good. I wanted him marked.

I leaned casually against the wooden doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest and letting him feel the absolute weight of my stare. “Why are you late, Sig?”

He swallowed hard, stepping past me into the cabin. The hatch shut behind him with a heavy, final click. He stood dead center in the middle of the small room, his fists clenched tight at his sides, before the words finally tumbled out of him in a desperate rush.

“Because I’m weak.” His voice cracked, tears instantly welling in his golden eyes. “I thought I got him out of my head, George. But even now, when I close my eyes, I see him. And then I see you in that locker room... accusing me. Reminding me that because I wanted to be fucked, because I wanted to be handcuffed and taken... that I wanted to be raped.”

I walked over to him slowly, letting my mass completely fill his periphery until he had nowhere else to look. “No, baby. Don't you ever compare me to that sick fuck.” I reached out, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his trembling, small frame hard against my chest. “Your need for bondage, your need to be taken at my mercy, did not give that bastard consent for what he did to you. Never.”

“I want you, and I shouldn’t,” he sobbed into my chest, his fingers clutching at my shirt. “I know you’ll eventually hurt me, but I am too weak to walk away.”

Something twisted viciously in my gut. I had heard him call himself weak over the microphone at that underground club, but he hadn’t used those exact words with me. The mock trial presentation had ripped his oldest wounds wide open. I hated hearing him say that self-destructive shit about himself. I knew exactly what he needed to snap out of his spiral.

I gripped his chin, forcing his watery eyes up to meet mine. “You think you’re weak for coming back here? For craving this?”

He offered a small nod, shame burning a deep crimson into his cheeks. “Yes, Sir.”

“Wrong answer.”

I smiled, but there was no kindness in it. “Strip. Now. Leave everything on the floor, then get up to the deck.”

While he obeyed, his hands trembling as he shed his heavy black hoodie and jeans, I stepped up to the helm. The twin diesel engines rumbled to life beneath the fiberglass deck, a deep, vibrating purr that echoed through the empty marina. I didn't say a word as I cast off the mooring lines and shoved the throttles forward.

Naked and shivering in the brisk night air, Sig stood by the stern rail, his hands gripping the cold steel as the yacht cut a brutal path straight out toward the open ocean. For thirty minutes, the only sound was the crashing of the dark waves against the hull and the steady, punishing roar of the engines. I watched him from the corner of my eye as the distant glow of the city lights shrunk, faded, and finally vanished entirely into the horizon.

There was nothing around us now but miles of pitch-black water. No cell service. No land. No rescue.

I cut the engines down to a low, rhythmic idle, letting the boat drift on the deep swells. The sudden silence of the open ocean was deafening. I stepped away from the wheel, my massive frame casting a long shadow over him as the realization washed over his features in real-time: out here, on the black water, he was completely, utterly at my mercy.

"George..." he whispered, his voice instantly swallowed by the vast, open air.

"Call me, Sir.”

“Sir...” His teeth chattered.

“Downstairs, Santiago," I growled softly, guiding his shivering, naked body back down into the cabin. "To the bedroom berth. Kneel in the center of the bed, hands behind your head."

I watched his long legs and his bruised hips moved as he obeyed my command. Then I walked to the low cabinet near the galley and gathered exactly what I needed: the thick leather cuffs, my favorite wide leather belt, the riding crop, a heavy wooden paddle, the steel cock cage, and the heavy black silicone butt plug.

By the time I entered the sleeping quarter, he was beautifully naked and kneeling on the dark sheets exactly as ordered, his knees spread, his cock already half-hard and leaking, his fingers laced tightly behind his head. His pale body was still carrying the faint, blushing marks from last night. Perfect.

I circled the berth slowly, dragging the heavy leather belt across my palm.

“You’re not weak, Santiago,” I said, my voice dropping into a low baritone. “You’re one of the bravest fucking men I’ve ever met. It takes courage to walk back onto this boat after how I wrecked you last night. It takes real strength to kneel and offer yourself to a man who blackmailed you. But every time you call yourself weak...” I cracked the leather belt violently against the mattress right next to his thigh, making him flinch. “...you get punished for it.”

His breath hitched. His length twitched hard in response.

I climbed onto the mattress behind him. First, I buckled the thick leather cuffs around his wrists, then clipped them to the sturdy chain I’d already anchored to the headboard frame. His arms were now stretched high and tight above him, his back arched, his marked ass presented beautifully for me.

I ran my broad palm down his spine, feeling every muscle tremble. Then I reached between his thighs and took his leaking cock in my fist, stroking him just enough to make him moan before sliding the cold steel cock cage over his shaft. He gasped sharply as I locked it snugly around the base, the metal keys clicking shut with a definitive snap.

“Tonight, this stays on,” I told him, giving the steel cage a possessive, downward tug. “You don’t get to come until I decide you’ve earned it. Brave boys get rewards, Santiago. Weak boys stay locked.”

“Umm,” He whimpered, his hips jerking uselessly against my hand as the steel cage trapped his arousal.

Next, I slicked the thick silicone butt plug with lube and pressed the blunt tip firmly against his hole. “Open up for it.”