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The question caught me completely off guard. Even now, after everything that had just fractured between us, he was handing the control right back to me.

I hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of how full and trapped I still felt the silicone pressing constantly against all the raw, aching places inside me, the steel cage a solid, cold weight reminding me of his ownership. Part of me wanted to keep that physical anchor to him. Another part just wanted to be soft. Safe. Without anything pinching or stretching my skin.

“Would I be weak for not keeping it?” I searched his eyes for approval.

“No, baby, you won’t. You’ll be brave for saying it, but you need to use your words.”

I took a deep breath. “Off,” I whispered finally, looking up into his eyes. “Please, Sir.”

George nodded without a single shred of hesitation. “Good boy. Thank you for telling me.”

He moved with careful, quiet efficiency, reaching for the fresh lube and a warm, damp cloth from the nightstand. First, he eased the thick black plug out slowly, murmuring low praise against my ear as my hole fluttered and clenched around the empty air. Then, he unlocked the steel cock cage, his calloused fingers incredibly gentle as he freed my length completely from the metal.

He cleaned my skin tenderly, wiping away the sweat and fluids before applying another generous layer of cooling arnica cream to my welts and around my entrance. When he was done, he pulled me straight back into his chest, skin to skin, with absolutely nothing left between us.

“Better?” he asked, tucking the heavy wool blanket securely around our shoulders again.

I nodded against his chest, feeling strangely lighter without the toys—more vulnerable, but also entirely more his. Not because he was controlling my body with steel and silicone, but because he had listened to me.

“Can I? I want to feel you inside me. I want to give you myself.” I looked up to meet his dark eyes.

“On my terms. I won’t be gentle.” He held my eyes in challenge.

“Yes, Sir.”

I nodded, heart hammering against my ribs. “Yes, Sir.”

George’s eyes darkened, that familiar predatory focus sliding back into place, but it was layered now with something heavier—possession, care, the weight of everything I’d just handed him. He didn’t rush. His big hand cupped the back of my neck, thumb stroking my pulse point as he studied my face.

“On your stomach,” he said, voice low and rough. “I want to see every mark I left on you while I take what’s mine.”

I rolled over without hesitation, wincing as the movement pulled at the blazing welts across my ass and thighs. The wool blanket was shoved aside. Cool air kissed my overheated skin, making the cane stripes feel even hotter. I pressed my face into the pillow, arms stretched above my head, offering myself.

George’s weight settled over me, heavy and grounding. His cock—thick, hot, already leaking—slid against the cleft of my ass, dragging over the tender, freshly creamed skin. I shivered.

“Still sore from the plug,” he murmured, almost to himself. One thick finger traced my hole, testing. My hole was warm, tender, and open from the beating of the cane, and that invading plug. “Good. I want you to feel me.” Slick from the lube he’d used earlier. I was open, ready in a way that felt dangerous.

He didn’t prep me further. He simply lined up the blunt head of his cock and pushed.

“Ohhh.” The stretch was immediate and brutal. A broken sound tore from my throat as he sank in, slow but relentless, forcing my body to open around his girth. His cock, thick, heavy, and long. Every inch dragged against raw, overstimulated nerves. My hands fisted the sheets. “Ahhh,” I whimpered. The welts on my ass flared white-hot where his hips pressed against them.

“Take it,” he growled against my ear, voice strained with the effort of holding back just enough. “You asked for me. Now you get all of me.”

“Fuck—Sir—” I gasped, shaking.

He bottomed out in one long, inexorable thrust, hips flush against my bruised ass. The fullness was overwhelming. I could feel him throbbing deep inside, thick and heavy, pressing right against that spot that made my spent cock hardened uselessly against the sheets. My hole clenched around him involuntarily, and George hissed through his teeth.

For a moment he stayed buried to the hilt, letting me adjust, his chest plastered to my back, one arm braced beside my head. His other hand slid under my hip, gripping my caged-free cock, not stroking, just holding me, owning me.

Then he started moving.

There was nothing gentle about it. He fucked me like he needed to crawl inside my ribcage and stay there.

“Ahhh. Ummah.” Deep, punishing strokes that rocked my whole body forward. The slap of his hips against my welted ass sent fresh sparks of pain radiating outward, mixing with the relentless pleasure until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Every thrust ground the welts, reigniting the fire from the cane. Every withdrawal left me clenching desperately around him, trying to keep him inside.

“Uhhmm.” I was moaning into the pillow, shameless, broken little sounds that matched the wet, filthy rhythm of his cock driving into me.

George’s mouth was at my neck, teeth scraping over the collarbone he’d marked earlier. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. You’re so fucking tight. Still so goddamn perfect for me.”