Page 74 of There's a Way

“Oh, your poor balls. You abused them quite a bit there at the end, didn’t you? Roll over and jack yourself off. No lube, just your hand and your dick.”

It’d been nearly nine days since I’d had an orgasm, so I didn’t need lube. In fact, the extra friction might just help me get there faster. My erection had flagged a little from the pain, but the humiliation of the whole thing had kept it from going soft. It wasn’t rock hard, but it was still standing proud.

Some Masters like for this part to take a while, but not mine, so I got right to work with the knowledge that if I didn’t get myself off in a few minutes, it was possible I’d lose the chance for an orgasm. A few slow strokes and then I went right to it, moving and twisting, remembering the humiliation and pain of crawling. I flexed my ass so I felt the cane strokes even more, reactivating the pain that hadn’t even thought about calming down yet. I’m pretty sure my begging started in less than a minute. “Permission for your slave to orgasm Master? Please allow your humbled slave the privilege of release, kind Master!”

He let me go on with my begging until I thought my aching balls might just give up the ghost, and he finally said, “Permission granted, beloved slave.”

He’d never said it like that before, and my tears grew in volume and moisture as the orgasm tore from my body, a painful, glorious release that had me grunting and yelping. I closed my eyes for most of it, but remembered to open them and meet his gaze at the end, tears flowing down the sides of my face to my ears as I lay on my back, looking up at him, jizz cooling on my stomach.

Rather than order me to feed it to myself, Master scooped his finger into it and fed it to me, his gaze on my tongue the whole time.

The silence in the playroom contrasted with the feral beat he’d played before, but I didn’t say anything.

And then, after he’d fed me everything on my stomach, he ran his fingers down the back of my throat and held them there. Our gazes met, and I opened my soul to him. I’m his, and I let him see all the way inside me while he held me with his gaze, his fingers buried in my throat.

The first time Carlos had crammed his dick down my throat, I’d gagged and carried on something awful. He’d taken his belt off and beat me all over my body while I flailed around on the floor, and then he’d ass-fucked me. The next day, he’d given me a long dildo and told me I had a week to learn to stop gagging. He gave me my first lesson, holding it down my throat, telling me to swallow around it. I’d worked hard to learn how to accept the dildo without gagging, at least an hour or two a day, but when the week was up, I hadn’t been able to take Carlos’ cock down my throat without gagging, and he’d kicked me in the balls until I puked, and then kicked them some more. It didn’t take me much longer to learn how to keep from gagging no matter what he put down my throat.

And so, I guess I’m kind of proud that I can take whatever Master wants to put in my throat, and I can hold his gaze. Usually it’s either his cock or his fingers, but sometimes he fucksmy throat with a long dildo while he faces me and fucks my ass missionary style.

“I motherfucking love you, Davy. Love you more than I can figure out how to say.”

He slowly pulled his fingers from my throat and then oh-so-slowly ran them all the way down again, as far as he could reach. Another dozen times, and he completely removed his hand.

“My original plan was to put you back in your new cock cage and leave you in it a few days, but I want to make love to you, so get your ass into the sling in the corner. Face up so I can look at you while I fuck your ass.”

“I love you too, Master.” I didn’t waste time waiting for a response. He’d given me an order, so I rolled to the side and stood as gently as I could without taking too much time.

I knew there was no real damage to my balls. The humbler pulls them to the bottom of the sack and can be quite painful, but it’s just because there are so many damned nerve endings down there. Still, I felt them with every step.

I turned my back to the sling, reached up and grabbed a handhold, lifted myself and pushed back, and landed in it mostly right. I grabbed different handholds and lifted myself again, and could be more precise in how I let myself back down.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Master said while he connected my wrists cuffs out to the side, and then lifted my legs and connected my ankle cuffs so I had to bend my legs and spread them out. Master pulled my hips closer to the edge, took a step forward, and jammed his cock in, spreading and opening my asshole without warning, but he only slammed in once, and then held.

“I love belonging to you, Master. I love you, but it’s more than that. I love my life with you.”

“Ditto, slave. Every word of it, ditto.

I’m not a fan of slow sex, usually, but Master was sointense, looking into my eyes, holding my gaze with his brilliant blue eyes. In and out. In and out. Slow but deliberate, for-fucking-ever, but I never wanted it to stop.

Carlos used to wrap his fingers around my throat to choke me, so I couldn’t breathe, but Master has something he puts over my mouth and nose. He says it’s safer than fingers around my throat, but the end result is the same — he blocks my air while he fucks me, then lets me desperately try to reoxygenate my body a few minutes before he does it again.

And I love him for it.

Tonight, after he’d taken me to the edge a dozen times, he released my left arm and ordered me to play with myself while he had the piece that conforms to my mouth and nose over my face, completely blocking my air.

He fucked me harder and faster, and ordered me to make my hand keep up with the speed, which I did because I have to follow orders, but I was terrified I’d orgasm — and I couldn’t beg permission because I couldn’t fucking breathe.

And then Master said, “Now, slave. Comenow.”

He didn’t take the thing off my face so I could breathe until I was well and fully in the middle of the orgasm. I sucked air in while every cell in my body was experiencing ecstasy, colors exploding in my vision like fireworks, every muscle in my body spasming and jerking while I sucked air in gasps.

* * * *

Will

The game plan, when I sent Davy to the playroom, was to torture him for hours. It turns out, I guess what I really needed was some slow loving. And okay, so I kind of tortured him during the slow loving part of the evening, too, but that’s our relationship. It’s who we are.

I get to decide whether Davy orgasms or not, and it pleased me for us to come together, today.

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