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I collapsed forward onto my stomach, shaking violently as the emotional drop dragged me down into the dark. George gathered my limp body up immediately, hauling my trembling frame against his bare, broad chest. My skin was fever-hot to the touch, slick with sweat and tears. He grabbed the thickest blanket from the foot of the berth, wrapping it tightly around me to stop the violent chills.

He held me close, one massive hand cradling the back of my head while the other stroked slow, soothing lines down my spine, carefully avoiding the raw welts.

“Shh. Breathe with me, baby. Just breathe. You’re so fucking brave,” he murmured against my temple, rocking me gently in the dark. “You used your safeword exactly like you were supposed to. I’m so proud of you, Sig. I’ve got you.”

I cried harder into the crook of his neck, deep, wrenching sobs that felt like they’d been trapped inside my chest since high school. George held me through the entire storm, pressing desperate, soft kisses to my temple, my damp hair, anywhere his lips could reach.

When the worst of the frantic shaking finally eased, he reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, holding it to my swollen lips. I drank in small, hesitant sips. He fed me a piece of dark chocolate, then another, letting the sugar slowly pull my consciousness back down to earth.

“Need to come... please,” I whispered, my eyes pleading as I looked up at him.

George reached down and unlocked the steel cock cage gently, freeing my tight, aching shaft. He clutched my slick dick securely in his large hand, running his thumb smoothly over the slit, stroking me with a steady, comforting rhythm.

“Ummhh,” I moaned, my entire body shaking as the friction hit my overstimulated skin.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

With a raw, guttural sound, the last of my control vanished. I shattered, releasing my cum directly into his hands. After I settled, he used a warm towel to gently clean my skin.

“You...” I exhaled, looking up and meeting his eyes with total vulnerability. My armor was completely gone.

“Don’t worry about me, Sig. Tonight is entirely about you.” He pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to my mouth.

“Sorry I broke.”

“You didn’t break. You were brave enough to voice your rights. You were smart enough to recognize when it was enough. You were absolutely perfect.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, resting my heavy head back against his chest.

After a few quiet minutes, George tilted my chin up with his fingers, forcing me to look at him with my red, puffy eyes.

“Sig... I need you to hear me,” he said, his voice dropping into a fierce, absolute gravity that vibrated against my ribs. “It was never your fault. You were never weak. I was a complete piece of shit back then. I believed Sullivan because it was easier than facing what a monster he really was, and I bullied you because of it. I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry for what I did to you in those hallways. You didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t ask for it. And you were never, ever weak.”

I stared back at him, completely exhausted, listening to the words I had starved to hear for years.

He kept his gaze locked entirely onto my eyes. “I want you to trust me with it. Not as your Dom right now, but as the man who is claiming you. Tell me what happened with Sullivan. All of it. The parts you’ve never been able to tell anyone else. I can take it, Sig. And I swear on my life, I will never use it against you. Let me carry some of that weight for you.”

The cabin went dead silent. My shallow breaths felt warm against his chest. George just kept slowly stroking my hair, patient, waiting out the silence.

Finally, the words came out hoarse and incredibly small.

“He... he was nice at first,” I whispered, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. “He gave me a ride home from school, made me feel special. I let him jerk me off. I sucked him, but when he wanted to penetrate me, I told him I wasn’t ready. He agreed at first, and then he came over to my house that night when my parents went out for dinner. I thought it was romantic. I showed him my room, and he found my sketchbook. I sketched anime, the bondage art, and then I confessed that I loved it. I told him I wished I could try it one day. He said, ‘How about we try it now?’ He kissed me at first, and I thought it was okay, but when he reached for my clothes, I tried to stop him. I told him that I wasn’t ready. He said, ‘Of course you are.’ I tried to smile it off and said, ‘No, I’m not.’ He slapped me. The earth shook beneath my feet, and I lost my balance. I tried to fight him off, but he was bigger. Stronger. I cried for days, and when I finally reported it to the administration, everyone turned on me. They called me a liar. A slut who just changed his mind after the fact. You were one of the worst, George. You stood there and told everyone I was just desperate for attention...”

Fresh tears spilled over my lower lashes, cutting hot lines down my cheeks. George wiped them away gently with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m right here,” he whispered against my hair. “Keep going if you want to. I’m listening.”

And I did. For the next hour, I told him everything—the paralyzing fear, the physical pain, the suffocating shame, and the way it had systematically destroyed my ability to trust another human being. He held me through every single sentence, never looking away, letting me sink completely into the safety of his arms while the old poison finally started to drain out of my soul.

When I finally went quiet, completely drained and empty, George pressed a deep kiss to my forehead.

“You survived hell, Sig. And you still had the absolute strength to walk back into mine because you knew you needed to face it. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.”

He shifted our positions slightly so he could reach the arnica and the cooling cream on the nightstand. Slowly, with infinite care, he tended to every raised welt and bruise on my skin, massaging the cream gently until my aching muscles melted completely under his touch.

Once my mind fully settled, he took the steel cage again, making sure it sat comfortably against my skin before locking it securely back over my soft shaft. Then he slicked the black plug once more, easing it carefully back into my sore, aching hole to keep me perfectly full and grounded.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered softly against my ear as he pulled the blankets up over our shoulders, locking me securely against his chest. “Not just your body, Santiago. All of it—the broken parts, too. Locked. Plugged. And completely safe with me.”