Page 112 of Sliding into Love
"You know what I love about you?" Royce asks conversationally, as if we're not currently engaged in an incredibly intimate power exchange. "Your willingness to give me control. Most people would have trouble with this. With the helplessness. But not you. You're so good at surrendering."
"Royce," I say, the word coming out almost as a plea, though I'm not entirely sure what I'm pleading for.
"Not yet," they say, and I feel the machine shift slightly into a barely perceptible increase in depth. It's still not enough. It's still this agonizing middle ground. "We have all night. And you're going to give me everything you have."
The tempo increases again, and I can feel my thighs tensing, my hips wanting to move, wanting to take control of the rhythm and push toward something more satisfying. But I can't. I'm pinned beneath Royce's weight, trapped by the parameters they've set, forced to accept exactly what they want to give me.
"Please," I hear myself say.
"Please what?" Royce asks, leaning down so their face is inches from mine. I can feel their breath on my skin, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to keep my eyes open, to maintain the eye contact they demanded. "Use your words, Kenny.”
"Please… more," I say, hating how desperate I sound. "I need more."
"I know you do," Royce says, and there's genuine sympathy in their voice, which somehow makes it worse because it means they're choosing this. They’re choosing to keep me in this state of suspended desire.
"But we're going to go slowly. We're going to build this. You're going to feel every second of it."
They reach down and wrap a hand around my cock, stroking it slowly while the machine continues its relentless, measured pace. The combination is enough to make me gasp, enough to make my hips buck upward involuntarily.
"Stay still," Royce commands, and I force my body to comply, even though every nerve ending is screaming for more friction, more speed, more everything.
"I can’t!”
"You can," Royce says firmly. "And you will. Because I own this. I own you right now. And you're going to take exactly what I decide to give you."
Hearing Royce say that with confidence makes me want to surrender even more completely. I nod, unable to form words.
The machine's speed increases again, fractionally. The attachment moves deeper inside me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from closing my eyes or looking away. Royce's hand around my cock continues its lazy pace, and the contrast between the internal stimulation and the slower touch on my shaft creates this maddening tension that I can feel building in my core.
"That's it," Royce murmurs. They're watching my face so intently, as if cataloging every small reaction. "You're doing so well. Look how good you are for me. How willing you are to let me control you."
I want to respond, but I don't trust my voice. All I can do is maintain the eye contact and try to breathe through the building pressure inside me.
Royce shifts again, and now they're straddling one of my thighs, and I can feel how wet they are, can feel the dampness against my skin. The knowledge that Royce is already prepped too sends another surge of need through me.
"You want to know what I'm going to do?" Royce asks, and they increase the speed again. The machine moves faster now, deeper, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from making too much noise. "I'm going to keep you like this all night. I'm going to edge you over and over until you're begging. Until you're so desperate that you'd do anything for release."
"Royce," I say, and it comes out as a whimper.
"Not yet," they repeat, their voice brooking no argument. "We're nowhere near done."
They pull their hand away from my cock, and I want to protest, but I don't because I know they're in control here. I gave them that control willingly, and we both know what happens when I respect the boundaries they set. Royce reaches up instead and traces a finger along my jaw, down my neck, across my collarbone. It's a light touch, almost casual, which somehow makes it more intense than if they were touching me directly.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?" Royce asks softly. "All spread out for me, completely vulnerable. No walls. No defenses. Just you and your need."
I can't answer. I can barely breathe. The machine continues its steady rhythm. It’s still not fast enough, not deep enough, but building something inside me that feels like it's going to explode if Royce doesn't allow me release soon.
"I love you like this," Royce continues, and there's a tenderness in their voice, that creates a strange juxtaposition with the power dynamic we're engaged in. "Completely surrendered. Completely mine."
"I'm yours. Completely yours."
Royce smiles, and it's devastating. "I know you are."
They increase the speed again with a more significant jump this time. The machine moves faster, deeper, and the pressure building inside me becomes almost unbearable. I can feel myself getting close, feel the edge approaching, and I try to warn them.
"Royce, I'm going to?—"
"Not yet," they say, and suddenly they slow it down again. The speed drops dramatically, and I'm left panting, right at the precipice but not allowed to fall over it. "You come when I say you can come. Not before."
