Negotiations 21
Go back to Negotiations 20 or start at the beginning.
A/N: Happy holidays and happy new year! I've been working on this for months, and I'm very happy to be ready to post! I decided to switch back to first person, and that helped me nudge the chapter loose. Love your comments and hope all is well.
21
BRIAN’S POV
After his successful show, Justin wants to go out dancing to burn off the high he gets when a show sells out. Somehow, I -- (yes, me) -- convince him that we should just go back to the hotel and relax. I admit to him that I’m kind of tired.
But now, we’re back here, and I’m very awake.
We’re occupying the sofa in the outer room of our suite, and while Justin’s still fully clothed, I no longer am. Rather, I’m nude from the waist down, my head propped in his lap, my heart fluttering in my throat. Justin’s wonderfully hard; my cranium rests against his bulge. My mouth feels like a canvas before he’s painted it...dry and ready to be of use. He’s stroking my hair, staring down at me, telling me that someday he’d like to put my cock in a cage and then fuck me until I beg for mercy….
At this point, it’s clear to me: we should’ve gone dancing.
Instead, my legs are spread - one over the back of the couch, the other touching the floor. He’s commenting on my body, on my “form” he says, “I want you to feel special when I’m fucking you; I want you to feel chosen.”
“I do. It’s like the rest of the world disappears.” He smiles and rubs my stomach; he ignores my cock as it just lays there aching for attention. I continue, “All I know is that I think about you being inside me all the time. I can feel you--”
“When I’m not there?” he finishes for me.
“Yep.”
“Well, welcome to my life; I’ve had that sense memory since the night we met.”
I speak into his sweatered stomach, “I’m not used to it yet. You could have mercy on me...maybe?”
“That’s cute,” Justin says, “And also not happening.” Finally, he’s playing with the bead of precum on my cock as he says this, and he licks his finger slowly. I’m not sure what I want from Justin in this experience; I just know that I want something. There’s a desire there that won’t go away. I like that I can let go and give myself over to him, but stay present enough to bask in the pleasure he’s feeling while he’s inside me. I’ve started to go a few hours where I only think about him fucking me and never ponder the opposite.
What’s happening to me?
And yet, I also know that if he showed even a hint of a desire to be across my lap, I could drop this mindset and slip right back into that one. It’s kind of scary how fluid this is all becoming for me.
We talked about submission as a concept before my pants came off…
“Did you enjoy our episode in the gallery bathroom?” he asked me.
I smiled as I look up at him, “Yes. Did you?”
“You were sucking me off, of course I liked it; that’s an idiotic question.”
“No, it’s not because I wasn’t referring to that part of the experience,” I replied.
“Ooh, you mean the power play?”
“Correct.”
“Yes, I liked it, but it’s more important to me that you did,” he confesses.
“I did like it,” I admit, “...But also, submission is a tricky thing.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed, “There’s a huge continuum.”
“Indeed.”
I held his hand where it’s resting on my chest; I traced it with my fingertip as I spoke, “And then there’s the issue of playing the role your partner wants you to play or playing the role as who you think you are.”
“Hmm,” Justin said, and then he slipped his hand inside my jeans. My pants came off so quickly, my underwear; I hardly remember it. The things I do for him….
And now he’s giving instructions, and the scene is about to change.
“I want you to take everything off,” he tells me as he’s wriggling out from under me.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“I need to get ready. You have about five minutes. I want you completely undressed. You clothes should be folded and will stay out here. When I come back, I expect you to be on your knees on the floor with your arms tucked behind your back.” He uses his foot to tap the spot where he wants me to kneel. “You’re not to touch yourself, but I expect you to be as hard as you are right now.” Then he turns off all the lights and leaves me in almost total darkness except for the crack in the door that leads to the bedroom where the light is on. I follow his instructions and as I kneel, I watch that strip of light get periodically interrupted as he walks around the room. When he comes back, he’s wearing a robe, and he asks curtly, “Where’s your phone?”
“On top of my clothes.”
“I’m going to turn it off.”
“I already did,” I tell him.
“Off off?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Justin looks mildly pleased as he returns to where I’m kneeling. He puts his hand on my shoulder, “First, we’re just going to accept the fact that you don’t know where you are on the sub continuum anymore than I know where I am on the dom. That’s just a fact.”
“Fair point.”
“And I’m deciding that we’re not going to stress about that. The boundaries will present themselves when we reach them.”
“This is starting to sound like a TEDtalk.”
He laughs at me but it’s a sweet laugh, “Okay. We’re going to go over a few positions first.”
I don’t know what he means, but I just say, “Okay,” anyway.
“The position you’re in right now is number two,” he says, and then he pushes on my shoulder, urging me forward until my face is on the rug, “Good. That’s number one.”
“One,” I repeat into the hotel carpet.
“Now, clasp your hands in front of your head instead of behind your back.” I do as instructed. “Lift your ass and spread your knees apart.” He knows exactly how vulnerable I feel in this moment, so he says nothing for a few seconds, and then he breaks it with, “And that’s position number three.”
“Okay, three.”
“And when that position is upside down and you’re on your back, “That’s four.”
“Got it.”
“Go back to two.”
I use my abs to pull myself back up; I pull my legs back in and fold my arms behind my back. I’m eye level with Justin’s waist, with the knot in his robe. He asks me to open it for him, so I use my teeth to pull on the terry cloth strip until his robe falls open. He smiles down at me, his hand on my jaw as he asks, “Are you as hard as I am right now?” he asks. I only have to shift my eyes a few centimeters to see the erection I’d been laying against earlier. “Yes, we’re the same,” I say.
“Good. Your obedience makes my cock feel like concrete,” Justin tells me, and I laugh a little. “What’s funny about that?” he asks.
“It’s usually your disobedience that makes me feel that way.”
He laughs too, but he warns me against distracting him. I take his point; I know exactly what he means; he feels the fluidity, too. Our mutual arousal in this upside down world is utter quicksand.
He asks me to open my mouth, to think of my lips as if they’re my asshole, to suck him tightly while he explains what will happen next. “Tonight, I’m going to punish you first for what you withheld from me, and then use you for my pleasure.”
I grunt and nod because I’ve created an air lock around his cock. I have to concentrate and breathe through my nose while he talks, “I brought a hairbrush, and I’m going to paddle you with it until I can tell that the pain’s too much.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I’m going to fuck you as many times as I can, as hard as I can. And now that I’ve told you that, this is the time to say something if you think it’s too much.”
I pull my mouth off his cock to respond, “I accept it. I deserve it.”
He strokes himself with his cock a few inches from my face, “I’m glad to hear that. I know that bottoming alone is a submissive experience for you, but I think it would do you good to learn to channel a little pain.”
“I want to,” I say, and I mean it. I’m actually kind of excited and unnerved at the same time.
Justin grins down at me, steers his cock back into my mouth, and then laces his fingers behind my head. He face fucks me violently, making me gag and drool and choke. He stops before he comes, pulls out and wipes the saliva from my chin as my eyes water, “That’s what I’m going to do to your ass.”
Jesus.
He steadies me as I stand up which turns out to be a good thing because I'm extremely light-headed. I pause in the doorway, and Justin wraps one of my arms around his shoulders. “All the blood's in your dick,” he reassures me. I look up at the white sheeted bed. The comforter is folded back; the hairbrush is on the nightstand along with lube. “Lie down,” he tells me, “On your stomach.”
I do as I’m told, and it’s like he can feel the nervousness inside me that I’m trying to ignore. He lies down beside me, his hand on my upper back, “I’m going to be so proud of you,” he says in an almost-whisper. “Anything you need, anything you need me to know--at any time---you tell me, okay?”
“Okay….but there is one thing,” I say.
“What’s that?” Justin asks, his finger drawing hair away from my face.
“I’m truly sorry that I kept that shit from you.”
“Thank you,” he says, “I accept your apology, but it’s too late for sorry.”
“I know.” He’s right; it is.
************
“You should probably stuff a pillow underneath you,” Justin advises me, and as I do it, he jokes, “We’ll call this position three and half.”
“Okay.”
What’s his obsession with numbered positions? Has he been reading a BDSM diagram all day?
He begins to run his hand down my back and over my ass, starting out lightly at first and then increasing the pressure until I’m moaning and starting to rock my hips into this pillow. “I’ll make sure you have plenty of pleasure to counteract this pain,” he says.
“Thank you.”
He slaps my ass with his hand moving around until I’m sure my skin is starting to pink. He stops and picks up the lube. I can’t see what he’s doing, but soon I feel his thumb cold and wet as it slides between my cheeks; he pushes it inside me, and I moan and spread my legs for him. “That’s nice, Brian,” he says, “I like it when you confirm that you’re the whore I think you are.”
I feel something drop in my stomach and respond, “Whoa,” without thinking.
“You disagree?”
“It just caught me off guard.”
There’s a weird pleasure in Justin’s voice the next time he speaks, “You’ve been obsessed with calling me a whore lately, making me say it and all that, but it’s not me you’ve been talking about. It’s you; it’s projection.”
Somehow I’m in my second therapy session of the day….
He begins to spank me harder, angling up on my ass like every swat is supposed to remind me to keep my ass up for him, and then he stops again, and I want him to finger me again, but he doesn’t. He runs the hairbrush down my back on the bristle side which exacerbates the soreness I feel on my ass. He brushes my skin hard in every direction, the bristles scraping across the impacted area. I feel raw and anxious. I don’t do this to him. My skin begins to chafe; I start to reposition myself instinctively; something that my mind knows I would never tolerate from him, but my body doesn’t care about reciprocity right now.
When he turns the brush and starts to paddle me, the pain is vicious. “Stay up, Brian,” he warns me because I keep sinking into this pillow to escape the pain.
“I’m trying,” I say, but I’ve angered him so he yanks my thigh toward his body and swats my inner thigh so hard that it makes me curse, “Goddamn, fuck.” The only positive thing I take from this is that I can feel him next to me; I can feel his movements before they create the pain. I can concentrate on that connection.
He rakes the same skin with the bristles, and then flips the brush, and hits me again in the same place. My nose starts to run. I sniff and wipe it with my hand. And then I see him move in my peripheral vision, and he’s between my legs and shoving them further apart until I’m almost uncomfortable, and then I feel his hands on my ass, spreading me, and then his tongue between my cheeks. “Oh god,” I moan as I try to rut against his face. He slaps my hip and says, “No. You stay still.”
“You’re eating me,” I whine like he doesn’t know what he’s doing and needs me to narrate. He’s kneading my sore skin as he does this, making all of my pain and pleasure signals misfire all over the place. “Justin…,” I warn him, “I might come.” (And somehow throw a tantrum at the same time?)
He reaches between my legs and squeezes my balls in his hand hard. I yelp in pain. “If you come,” he says, “You will spend the night in the corner; I will not let you back in this bed.”
Mean little twat…
Next, he’s back to the hairbrush again. I yell out after every swat; I could care less who hears me. Every inch of my skin from my the top of my ass to the back of knees is on fucking fire; my nerve endings feel like they’re going to short out. I grab another pillow that’s next to me, bury my face in it and scream. It feels so good to let it out. I feel the pillow between my legs get ripped away, and then I look through my arms to see Justin slide a black rubber cock ring down my dick. He works my balls in there, too, and now I can’t even articulate where the pain is actually coming from anymore. “Up to three,” he tells me, so I try to reconnect with the jelly-like muscles in my legs as he starts to fuck me. “This is fucking heaven,” he says, “It’s even better than you say it is.”
I built him. He’s alive.
When I moan, he comments about the insatiable whore that I am. Then he grabs my hips and fucks me like a jackhammer, so hard that the most I can do is try to maintain position three for him. After a couple of minutes, I feel his hand between my legs, “You ready to come for me?”
“I’m afraid to,” I confess.
“Hold still,” he says as he carefully removes the cock ring. The blood comes rushing back causing an ache I can’t even describe. Everything below my waist throbs as Justin thrusts inside me again. “I can feel how close you are, Brian,” he tells me, and I agree, grabbing a pillow and maneuvering my cock to come all over it. Justin puts his hands on my ass, his thumbs pulling my cheeks apart so he can watch what he’s doing to me, and when he’s about to come, he pulls out and squirts all over my ass. “Oh, that’s beautiful,” he says sounding spent, “My glistening cum on your bright red ass.”
He pulls out and orders me to stay in position. He moves away from me, and It takes me a minute to realize that he’s taking fucking pictures of me with his phone. “No, don’t do that,” I say, my voice only halfway working.
“Hush,” Justin says, “Lie down flat.” I do as he asks, and I want to look back at him and express my displeasure, but I don’t want my face in the fucking pictures. He poses me, too, sometimes with my legs apart, sometimes not, while I lie there and feel ashamed. Not of my actual offense, but that he’s figured out a way to make me disgusted with myself. He hovers over me to sit his phone back on the nightstand, and then he leans down and kisses my shoulder, “Your punishment is over. You’ve suffered enough.” Then he hands me a tissue and says, “Wipe your face; you’re a blotchy mess. Back in a minute.”
I don’t know why I say this to him as he walks away, “I’m going to have bruises tomorrow.”
He stops at the doorway to the bathroom, leans and looks at me, “I know. I’m going to photograph those, too.”
“You said it was over,” I blurt out.
“Okay, sorry. It’s almost over. There’s a bottle of water on the night table. Drink it; your voice is half gone.”
Yeah, because I screamed into a pillow.
The water is soothing, and I guzzle the entire bottle.
*************
JUSTIN’S POV
What I just put Brian through gave me an adrenaline rush that I can feel in my nostrils. I was mostly winging it and didn’t expect to enjoy it so much, and I’m pretty sure Brian was not ready to be as upset as he’s trying to pretend he’s not. I offer him a double shot of whiskey when I return to the bed. He pushes my hand away saying, “I already burn all over.”
“It’ll take the edge off. Help you calm down a little.”
He takes it and tells me that he’s calm before guzzling the entire thing. I notice as I get into bed with him that he’s thrown the hairbrush across the room. It slid halfway under the curtains. I say nothing about it; I just slide into bed behind him and press myself against his warm skin. He recoils a bit at first, but I put my arm around his waist and whisper into the back of his neck, “You’re okay; I’m going to take care of you.”
He grunts in disagreement so I add, “Let me. I’ll help you mitigate the pain.” I wipe my cum off of him with a tissue and then screw open a jar of shea butter, and cover my hand with the cold cream. Brian flinches when I touch him. “It’s just cold, just give it a second.”
By the time I’ve coated his ass and his thighs, he’s moaning a little, and then leans his head back and kisses me. “I”m not sure the Justin who just did that to me is one I’m even married to,” he says.
“Well, I’m not married to the Brian that kept that bullshit from me.”
“Okay, fine. You win.”
I sigh and admit to him, “I’d hoped that you’d slip into subspace, but you didn’t.”
“I was there in my nap today; I was there in my dream,” he admits to me
I smile, “Aw, really?” I can’t even quantify how happy that makes me.
“Yeah, maybe pain isn’t my way in,” Brian suggests, “I mean, I don’t know.”
“Perhaps. If you’d done that to me, I’d be floating above the roof of this hotel.”
“Can I see the pictures?” he asks me.
At first I don’t want to oblige him, but then I change my mind and reach for my phone. He doesn’t have his glasses on, so they must be blurry to him, but he reacts to them anyway, “You humiliated me.”
“I know.”
“You better not slap a filter on those and instagram them,” he warns me.
“Well, I guess that depends on your behavior, doesn’t it?”
Brian’s eyes slice through me as he responds. “I don’t consent to that.”
I put my phone away, “See? I told you we’d find some boundaries.”
He responds with a random question, “Why did you pull out?”
I snuggle closer to him and kiss along his shoulder, “Because that was a punishment. If I fuck you again tonight, I won’t do that.”
“It hurt my feelings,” Brian says very quietly.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but you hurt mine. Turn towards me,” I suggest. He rolls to face me, and let’s me kiss him, let’s me hold his face against my chest. I rub his upper back and slide a leg over his to keep him next to me. I can feel a vulnerability seeping out of him as he holds onto me. I get goose bumps that I hope he doesn’t notice. He moans against me, and the amount of gratification that arouses in me is almost unsettling. I need him to believe that I know what I’m doing even when I don’t. “I will find your way in, Brian; I promise. I will get you there.”
And, again, quietly, he speaks as he litters kisses at the base of my neck, “Please fuck me again tonight.”
“I will. I’ll wake you up.”
“Position four,” he says.
I laugh and say, “Okay, good night, Brian.”
“Congrats on your show. You killed it.”
“I did? Didn’t I?”
“I was very impressed. Very.”
“Stop, you’re making me blush.”
“Good night, Justin.”
“Sleep tight, my new found whore.”
Brian grunts his displeasure. I ignore it.
Negotiations 22
A/N: Happy holidays and happy new year! I've been working on this for months, and I'm very happy to be ready to post! I decided to switch back to first person, and that helped me nudge the chapter loose. Love your comments and hope all is well.
21
BRIAN’S POV
After his successful show, Justin wants to go out dancing to burn off the high he gets when a show sells out. Somehow, I -- (yes, me) -- convince him that we should just go back to the hotel and relax. I admit to him that I’m kind of tired.
But now, we’re back here, and I’m very awake.
We’re occupying the sofa in the outer room of our suite, and while Justin’s still fully clothed, I no longer am. Rather, I’m nude from the waist down, my head propped in his lap, my heart fluttering in my throat. Justin’s wonderfully hard; my cranium rests against his bulge. My mouth feels like a canvas before he’s painted it...dry and ready to be of use. He’s stroking my hair, staring down at me, telling me that someday he’d like to put my cock in a cage and then fuck me until I beg for mercy….
At this point, it’s clear to me: we should’ve gone dancing.
Instead, my legs are spread - one over the back of the couch, the other touching the floor. He’s commenting on my body, on my “form” he says, “I want you to feel special when I’m fucking you; I want you to feel chosen.”
“I do. It’s like the rest of the world disappears.” He smiles and rubs my stomach; he ignores my cock as it just lays there aching for attention. I continue, “All I know is that I think about you being inside me all the time. I can feel you--”
“When I’m not there?” he finishes for me.
“Yep.”
“Well, welcome to my life; I’ve had that sense memory since the night we met.”
I speak into his sweatered stomach, “I’m not used to it yet. You could have mercy on me...maybe?”
“That’s cute,” Justin says, “And also not happening.” Finally, he’s playing with the bead of precum on my cock as he says this, and he licks his finger slowly. I’m not sure what I want from Justin in this experience; I just know that I want something. There’s a desire there that won’t go away. I like that I can let go and give myself over to him, but stay present enough to bask in the pleasure he’s feeling while he’s inside me. I’ve started to go a few hours where I only think about him fucking me and never ponder the opposite.
What’s happening to me?
And yet, I also know that if he showed even a hint of a desire to be across my lap, I could drop this mindset and slip right back into that one. It’s kind of scary how fluid this is all becoming for me.
We talked about submission as a concept before my pants came off…
“Did you enjoy our episode in the gallery bathroom?” he asked me.
I smiled as I look up at him, “Yes. Did you?”
“You were sucking me off, of course I liked it; that’s an idiotic question.”
“No, it’s not because I wasn’t referring to that part of the experience,” I replied.
“Ooh, you mean the power play?”
“Correct.”
“Yes, I liked it, but it’s more important to me that you did,” he confesses.
“I did like it,” I admit, “...But also, submission is a tricky thing.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed, “There’s a huge continuum.”
“Indeed.”
I held his hand where it’s resting on my chest; I traced it with my fingertip as I spoke, “And then there’s the issue of playing the role your partner wants you to play or playing the role as who you think you are.”
“Hmm,” Justin said, and then he slipped his hand inside my jeans. My pants came off so quickly, my underwear; I hardly remember it. The things I do for him….
And now he’s giving instructions, and the scene is about to change.
“I want you to take everything off,” he tells me as he’s wriggling out from under me.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“I need to get ready. You have about five minutes. I want you completely undressed. You clothes should be folded and will stay out here. When I come back, I expect you to be on your knees on the floor with your arms tucked behind your back.” He uses his foot to tap the spot where he wants me to kneel. “You’re not to touch yourself, but I expect you to be as hard as you are right now.” Then he turns off all the lights and leaves me in almost total darkness except for the crack in the door that leads to the bedroom where the light is on. I follow his instructions and as I kneel, I watch that strip of light get periodically interrupted as he walks around the room. When he comes back, he’s wearing a robe, and he asks curtly, “Where’s your phone?”
“On top of my clothes.”
“I’m going to turn it off.”
“I already did,” I tell him.
“Off off?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Justin looks mildly pleased as he returns to where I’m kneeling. He puts his hand on my shoulder, “First, we’re just going to accept the fact that you don’t know where you are on the sub continuum anymore than I know where I am on the dom. That’s just a fact.”
“Fair point.”
“And I’m deciding that we’re not going to stress about that. The boundaries will present themselves when we reach them.”
“This is starting to sound like a TEDtalk.”
He laughs at me but it’s a sweet laugh, “Okay. We’re going to go over a few positions first.”
I don’t know what he means, but I just say, “Okay,” anyway.
“The position you’re in right now is number two,” he says, and then he pushes on my shoulder, urging me forward until my face is on the rug, “Good. That’s number one.”
“One,” I repeat into the hotel carpet.
“Now, clasp your hands in front of your head instead of behind your back.” I do as instructed. “Lift your ass and spread your knees apart.” He knows exactly how vulnerable I feel in this moment, so he says nothing for a few seconds, and then he breaks it with, “And that’s position number three.”
“Okay, three.”
“And when that position is upside down and you’re on your back, “That’s four.”
“Got it.”
“Go back to two.”
I use my abs to pull myself back up; I pull my legs back in and fold my arms behind my back. I’m eye level with Justin’s waist, with the knot in his robe. He asks me to open it for him, so I use my teeth to pull on the terry cloth strip until his robe falls open. He smiles down at me, his hand on my jaw as he asks, “Are you as hard as I am right now?” he asks. I only have to shift my eyes a few centimeters to see the erection I’d been laying against earlier. “Yes, we’re the same,” I say.
“Good. Your obedience makes my cock feel like concrete,” Justin tells me, and I laugh a little. “What’s funny about that?” he asks.
“It’s usually your disobedience that makes me feel that way.”
He laughs too, but he warns me against distracting him. I take his point; I know exactly what he means; he feels the fluidity, too. Our mutual arousal in this upside down world is utter quicksand.
He asks me to open my mouth, to think of my lips as if they’re my asshole, to suck him tightly while he explains what will happen next. “Tonight, I’m going to punish you first for what you withheld from me, and then use you for my pleasure.”
I grunt and nod because I’ve created an air lock around his cock. I have to concentrate and breathe through my nose while he talks, “I brought a hairbrush, and I’m going to paddle you with it until I can tell that the pain’s too much.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I’m going to fuck you as many times as I can, as hard as I can. And now that I’ve told you that, this is the time to say something if you think it’s too much.”
I pull my mouth off his cock to respond, “I accept it. I deserve it.”
He strokes himself with his cock a few inches from my face, “I’m glad to hear that. I know that bottoming alone is a submissive experience for you, but I think it would do you good to learn to channel a little pain.”
“I want to,” I say, and I mean it. I’m actually kind of excited and unnerved at the same time.
Justin grins down at me, steers his cock back into my mouth, and then laces his fingers behind my head. He face fucks me violently, making me gag and drool and choke. He stops before he comes, pulls out and wipes the saliva from my chin as my eyes water, “That’s what I’m going to do to your ass.”
Jesus.
He steadies me as I stand up which turns out to be a good thing because I'm extremely light-headed. I pause in the doorway, and Justin wraps one of my arms around his shoulders. “All the blood's in your dick,” he reassures me. I look up at the white sheeted bed. The comforter is folded back; the hairbrush is on the nightstand along with lube. “Lie down,” he tells me, “On your stomach.”
I do as I’m told, and it’s like he can feel the nervousness inside me that I’m trying to ignore. He lies down beside me, his hand on my upper back, “I’m going to be so proud of you,” he says in an almost-whisper. “Anything you need, anything you need me to know--at any time---you tell me, okay?”
“Okay….but there is one thing,” I say.
“What’s that?” Justin asks, his finger drawing hair away from my face.
“I’m truly sorry that I kept that shit from you.”
“Thank you,” he says, “I accept your apology, but it’s too late for sorry.”
“I know.” He’s right; it is.
************
“You should probably stuff a pillow underneath you,” Justin advises me, and as I do it, he jokes, “We’ll call this position three and half.”
“Okay.”
What’s his obsession with numbered positions? Has he been reading a BDSM diagram all day?
He begins to run his hand down my back and over my ass, starting out lightly at first and then increasing the pressure until I’m moaning and starting to rock my hips into this pillow. “I’ll make sure you have plenty of pleasure to counteract this pain,” he says.
“Thank you.”
He slaps my ass with his hand moving around until I’m sure my skin is starting to pink. He stops and picks up the lube. I can’t see what he’s doing, but soon I feel his thumb cold and wet as it slides between my cheeks; he pushes it inside me, and I moan and spread my legs for him. “That’s nice, Brian,” he says, “I like it when you confirm that you’re the whore I think you are.”
I feel something drop in my stomach and respond, “Whoa,” without thinking.
“You disagree?”
“It just caught me off guard.”
There’s a weird pleasure in Justin’s voice the next time he speaks, “You’ve been obsessed with calling me a whore lately, making me say it and all that, but it’s not me you’ve been talking about. It’s you; it’s projection.”
Somehow I’m in my second therapy session of the day….
He begins to spank me harder, angling up on my ass like every swat is supposed to remind me to keep my ass up for him, and then he stops again, and I want him to finger me again, but he doesn’t. He runs the hairbrush down my back on the bristle side which exacerbates the soreness I feel on my ass. He brushes my skin hard in every direction, the bristles scraping across the impacted area. I feel raw and anxious. I don’t do this to him. My skin begins to chafe; I start to reposition myself instinctively; something that my mind knows I would never tolerate from him, but my body doesn’t care about reciprocity right now.
When he turns the brush and starts to paddle me, the pain is vicious. “Stay up, Brian,” he warns me because I keep sinking into this pillow to escape the pain.
“I’m trying,” I say, but I’ve angered him so he yanks my thigh toward his body and swats my inner thigh so hard that it makes me curse, “Goddamn, fuck.” The only positive thing I take from this is that I can feel him next to me; I can feel his movements before they create the pain. I can concentrate on that connection.
He rakes the same skin with the bristles, and then flips the brush, and hits me again in the same place. My nose starts to run. I sniff and wipe it with my hand. And then I see him move in my peripheral vision, and he’s between my legs and shoving them further apart until I’m almost uncomfortable, and then I feel his hands on my ass, spreading me, and then his tongue between my cheeks. “Oh god,” I moan as I try to rut against his face. He slaps my hip and says, “No. You stay still.”
“You’re eating me,” I whine like he doesn’t know what he’s doing and needs me to narrate. He’s kneading my sore skin as he does this, making all of my pain and pleasure signals misfire all over the place. “Justin…,” I warn him, “I might come.” (And somehow throw a tantrum at the same time?)
He reaches between my legs and squeezes my balls in his hand hard. I yelp in pain. “If you come,” he says, “You will spend the night in the corner; I will not let you back in this bed.”
Mean little twat…
Next, he’s back to the hairbrush again. I yell out after every swat; I could care less who hears me. Every inch of my skin from my the top of my ass to the back of knees is on fucking fire; my nerve endings feel like they’re going to short out. I grab another pillow that’s next to me, bury my face in it and scream. It feels so good to let it out. I feel the pillow between my legs get ripped away, and then I look through my arms to see Justin slide a black rubber cock ring down my dick. He works my balls in there, too, and now I can’t even articulate where the pain is actually coming from anymore. “Up to three,” he tells me, so I try to reconnect with the jelly-like muscles in my legs as he starts to fuck me. “This is fucking heaven,” he says, “It’s even better than you say it is.”
I built him. He’s alive.
When I moan, he comments about the insatiable whore that I am. Then he grabs my hips and fucks me like a jackhammer, so hard that the most I can do is try to maintain position three for him. After a couple of minutes, I feel his hand between my legs, “You ready to come for me?”
“I’m afraid to,” I confess.
“Hold still,” he says as he carefully removes the cock ring. The blood comes rushing back causing an ache I can’t even describe. Everything below my waist throbs as Justin thrusts inside me again. “I can feel how close you are, Brian,” he tells me, and I agree, grabbing a pillow and maneuvering my cock to come all over it. Justin puts his hands on my ass, his thumbs pulling my cheeks apart so he can watch what he’s doing to me, and when he’s about to come, he pulls out and squirts all over my ass. “Oh, that’s beautiful,” he says sounding spent, “My glistening cum on your bright red ass.”
He pulls out and orders me to stay in position. He moves away from me, and It takes me a minute to realize that he’s taking fucking pictures of me with his phone. “No, don’t do that,” I say, my voice only halfway working.
“Hush,” Justin says, “Lie down flat.” I do as he asks, and I want to look back at him and express my displeasure, but I don’t want my face in the fucking pictures. He poses me, too, sometimes with my legs apart, sometimes not, while I lie there and feel ashamed. Not of my actual offense, but that he’s figured out a way to make me disgusted with myself. He hovers over me to sit his phone back on the nightstand, and then he leans down and kisses my shoulder, “Your punishment is over. You’ve suffered enough.” Then he hands me a tissue and says, “Wipe your face; you’re a blotchy mess. Back in a minute.”
I don’t know why I say this to him as he walks away, “I’m going to have bruises tomorrow.”
He stops at the doorway to the bathroom, leans and looks at me, “I know. I’m going to photograph those, too.”
“You said it was over,” I blurt out.
“Okay, sorry. It’s almost over. There’s a bottle of water on the night table. Drink it; your voice is half gone.”
Yeah, because I screamed into a pillow.
The water is soothing, and I guzzle the entire bottle.
*************
JUSTIN’S POV
What I just put Brian through gave me an adrenaline rush that I can feel in my nostrils. I was mostly winging it and didn’t expect to enjoy it so much, and I’m pretty sure Brian was not ready to be as upset as he’s trying to pretend he’s not. I offer him a double shot of whiskey when I return to the bed. He pushes my hand away saying, “I already burn all over.”
“It’ll take the edge off. Help you calm down a little.”
He takes it and tells me that he’s calm before guzzling the entire thing. I notice as I get into bed with him that he’s thrown the hairbrush across the room. It slid halfway under the curtains. I say nothing about it; I just slide into bed behind him and press myself against his warm skin. He recoils a bit at first, but I put my arm around his waist and whisper into the back of his neck, “You’re okay; I’m going to take care of you.”
He grunts in disagreement so I add, “Let me. I’ll help you mitigate the pain.” I wipe my cum off of him with a tissue and then screw open a jar of shea butter, and cover my hand with the cold cream. Brian flinches when I touch him. “It’s just cold, just give it a second.”
By the time I’ve coated his ass and his thighs, he’s moaning a little, and then leans his head back and kisses me. “I”m not sure the Justin who just did that to me is one I’m even married to,” he says.
“Well, I’m not married to the Brian that kept that bullshit from me.”
“Okay, fine. You win.”
I sigh and admit to him, “I’d hoped that you’d slip into subspace, but you didn’t.”
“I was there in my nap today; I was there in my dream,” he admits to me
I smile, “Aw, really?” I can’t even quantify how happy that makes me.
“Yeah, maybe pain isn’t my way in,” Brian suggests, “I mean, I don’t know.”
“Perhaps. If you’d done that to me, I’d be floating above the roof of this hotel.”
“Can I see the pictures?” he asks me.
At first I don’t want to oblige him, but then I change my mind and reach for my phone. He doesn’t have his glasses on, so they must be blurry to him, but he reacts to them anyway, “You humiliated me.”
“I know.”
“You better not slap a filter on those and instagram them,” he warns me.
“Well, I guess that depends on your behavior, doesn’t it?”
Brian’s eyes slice through me as he responds. “I don’t consent to that.”
I put my phone away, “See? I told you we’d find some boundaries.”
He responds with a random question, “Why did you pull out?”
I snuggle closer to him and kiss along his shoulder, “Because that was a punishment. If I fuck you again tonight, I won’t do that.”
“It hurt my feelings,” Brian says very quietly.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but you hurt mine. Turn towards me,” I suggest. He rolls to face me, and let’s me kiss him, let’s me hold his face against my chest. I rub his upper back and slide a leg over his to keep him next to me. I can feel a vulnerability seeping out of him as he holds onto me. I get goose bumps that I hope he doesn’t notice. He moans against me, and the amount of gratification that arouses in me is almost unsettling. I need him to believe that I know what I’m doing even when I don’t. “I will find your way in, Brian; I promise. I will get you there.”
And, again, quietly, he speaks as he litters kisses at the base of my neck, “Please fuck me again tonight.”
“I will. I’ll wake you up.”
“Position four,” he says.
I laugh and say, “Okay, good night, Brian.”
“Congrats on your show. You killed it.”
“I did? Didn’t I?”
“I was very impressed. Very.”
“Stop, you’re making me blush.”
“Good night, Justin.”
“Sleep tight, my new found whore.”
Brian grunts his displeasure. I ignore it.
Negotiations 22