He gave me a piece of broccoli next. Then, sometime later, a bit of fried potato. He changed it up, never repeating the same thing, but not giving it to me in any sort of order either. I never knew what to expect.
Occasionally, he put a glass against my lips, and I sipped ice water. If some spilled down my chin, Master wiped it up with a napkin, making sure to catch all of it. Then he would go back to eating, eventually offering me another piece.
I had no idea how long we ate. Almost all of it was done in silence, and the lack of sound heightened the smell, touch, and taste. I knew texture as well as flavor. I was sensitive to temperature in my food in a way I rarely was.
Hamburger, tomato sauce, butter, onion, even the mild broccoli and the olive oil the potatoes had been fried in—I recognized all the smells. And still, under these, Master’s scent filled me, as well.
When I was full and Master offered another bite, I shook my head. “Good boy,” he praised me, offering the glass of water. I sipped, letting it clean my palate, and then he took it away.
I once more focused on Master’s whereabouts through sound as he cleared the table and put things away. I knew, every second, where he was, how far away he was. I also knew that at the slightest sound from me, he’d be next to me in an instant.
So I sat quietly, listening to Master move, letting him be my everything for this moment in time. I shifted occasionally as I needed to, to ease my knees or feet. One of the few times Master had spoken to me during the meal had been to make sure I knew to move when I needed to.
When he came back, he helped me to stand and waited until I stopped fidgeting over the pins and needles. He unhooked the cuffs but left them on. “Do you trust me?” he whispered into my ear. We were alone, but it seemed more appropriate somehow than if he’d spoken louder.
I replied in the same whisper. “Implicitly, Master.”
He rewarded me with a kiss, long and full and thorough. “Then I am leaving the blindfold on.” He took my hand and led me across the floor. Having been blind for so long, I couldn’t figure out which direction we were going until he said, “Step.”
He stayed behind me as I climbed, still blind, to make sure I didn’t fall. When I reached the top of the steps and moved aside, I heard him pass me, then open a door. I couldn’t tell which one until he guided me onto hard wood.
The playroom.
My cock jumped in anticipation, wondering what Master had in store for me. It would be the first time we’d managed to play here. And, as far as I knew, the first time Master would be playing here since Blake died.
Mal
I LED
him over to the bed and eased him down onto the old sheet I’d spread over top of the covers. When he was lying with his head on the pillow, I lifted his arms, making sure they wouldn’t strain, and hooked the cuffs to a chain I had around the iron bars on the headboard. I spread his legs next and anchored them to the posts at the foot of the bed. I kissed him softly, letting him taste, savoring the feel of his lips against mine for a long moment; then I stepped back.
I glanced around the room briefly. I’d managed to keep myself from thinking too much about the import of this night. Two years since I’d played in this room. Two years since I’d touched the bed or equipment. Until today, when I’d stripped and remade the bed, made sure the room was aired out and clean, supplied, and ready. I stared briefly at the Cross, remembering a bit too vividly when Blake had hung there. But that was the past, Blake was gone, and Kyle deserved every bit of my focus, attention, and love. I took a deep breath and put Blake away, turning back to Kyle.
He’d slipped so easily into the mindset I’d hoped for. I was actually kind of surprised by it. But by the time I’d finished cleaning him, I knew he’d already started along that path. When I had him on his knees at the table, his expression had shown me he was already there. It was an incredible sight, the expression, the calmness. He reacted to every movement I made, every sound.
My dick was already hard just from feeding him. I’d never had a more erotic dinner in my life. Neither of us had come close to touching the other’s cock and yet I was insanely aroused.
In fact, I needed to calm down a little. I was so worked up, I was afraid I’d forget something or do something wrong.
I watched him for a long moment, matching my breathing to his slow, deep rhythm. His cock, hard and leaking onto his stomach, contrasted to the otherwise calm he showed. After a moment of taking in his beauty, I felt like I could get some things accomplished.
I checked the pot I had warming on the bedside table, then lit the tall glass jar candles I had lined up behind it. I let them sit to burn down a bit and made sure I had the rest of the things I needed. The thermal bucket still had ice, rather than water. I had the ladle, brushes, and knife.
Sure I was ready, I picked up the bottle of baby oil and settled on the bed next to Kyle. I ran my hand slowly down his chest, marveling at the soft, hairless skin. He really went out of his way to keep himself smooth for me, and I loved that he tried so hard.
God, he tried so hard. I knew, in part, he was still scared I’d walk away. There were times I saw his doubt, his worry. While I didn’t understand, I could empathize and have patience. Which was another reason to do what I was doing this weekend. When he was so focused on me, it seemed those fears faded some. When he was thoroughly submissive, he didn’t seem to have those same doubts.
Selfishly, I wanted them gone. As much as I loved having him so submissive to me, I wanted to banish those same doubts and fears when he wasn’t, as well. I wanted to know, without a doubt, that his submission was as pure as could be. That he knelt at my feet, tried to please me, just because he wanted to, not because he was afraid I’d leave.
I shoved those thoughts away. We’d get there, eventually. I’d find a way to quiet his fears, dispel his doubts. It’d take time, I knew that, but I’d do it. I loved him too much not to.
Once the cap on the oil was open, I drizzled it over Kyle’s chest, down over his thighs, and even a little over his cock and balls, then closed it and set it aside. I took my time spreading it over his skin, keeping my touch fairly light. The point wasn’t to rub the oil in too much, it should just be enough to cover him and sensitize his skin.
He moaned softly when I brushed my thumbs over his nipples, teasing the rings. I tugged gently on them, earning another sound, then moved down over his stomach. Each new spot brought more sounds, all fairly quiet.
Until I got to his balls. He tried to buck as I massaged them, and I thrilled in knowing he was already so lost in sensation that he wasn’t able to think very well. If he’d been more clear-headed, he’d never have moved so much. This sound was more groan than moan, and I suspected it was because his balls were already so sensitive. I’d really tested him this week with the denial. I hoped, someday, I could take that even further. Perhaps when we were living together. I hoped I could make that happen.
I used my fingers to spread the oil on his cock, the touch light, the exact opposite of the one to his balls. He whimpered quietly over it, his length jumping. I smeared the precum over the tip, then left him alone, panting, to catch his breath.
I ladled up a scoop of the melted wax—green, to match his eyes—from the pot. Holding it just high enough to let it cool slightly before it hit, I tilted the ladle and let the wax pour over him.
He gasped, back arching. He looked like he wanted to speak, but I put a finger over his lips. He appeared somewhat confused, like he wasn’t sure what was happening.
I knew he didn’t know what to expect. We’d played with pain so much, and this was a major departure. This was about sensation, and while there might be minor pain here and there, it was not the focus. Again, I’d done this deliberately. If he could anticipate, he wouldn’t be in the moment as much.
I scooped more wax and poured it so it ran through the lines and valleys of his chest and abs, collecting a little in his navel. With one of the candles—this one in white—I tilted it to drip lightly over his left nipple. He gasped again as it hardened over the ring. This wax was a bit warmer than the other, so on the extra-sensitive skin, it would have been more of a shock. The harsh breath he let out as the wax solidified brought a grin to my face. Removing that bit of wax, which was all around his nipple piercing too, promised to be fun.
I made a long line next, weaving the white over the green. I wasn’t an artist, but I liked swirling the colors, making patterns. His breathing was a bit faster, but he was still mostly calm, which I liked. The wax was almost more of a massage than anything else, and though the oil conducted the heat some, none of it was hot enough to burn.
I decorated his right nipple with red, pulling another gasp with it. Along his legs, I added another line, then mixed the colors on his chest a bit more using splatters and swirls. He was moaning steadily now, each new line or spot another bit of sensation. I was sure, blindfolded as he was, the feel was even sharper. His reactions were making my still-hard cock strain against my shorts. He was even more beautiful than usual as he writhed on the bed.
After setting the candle down, I took a moment to strip out of my shorts and T-shirt. I had much more I wanted to do with him before we got to the sex, but the clothes were getting restrictive.
I did let myself smirk as I picked up the blue candle. I got it in place, then glanced up at Kyle’s face as I tilted the glass. As the warm wax landed on his balls, he grunted loudly, his face a mask of surprise and need.
After a pause to let more of the wax melt, I poured more over his sac until it was mostly covered. He was panting now, groaning as the wax hardened. But I wasn’t done.
Looking over at the table, I debated colors and decided on red. Yet again, I got it in place, then turned my focus to his face as I poured, making a solid coating of the wax along the entire length of his cock. He rewarded me with a full whimper. His dick jumped, the wax solidifying, and precum beaded again at the tip.
I set the candle down and picked up the camera I’d left on the table. I was sure he’d want to see this later on. He’d especially get a laugh over the blue wax on his balls, considering how much they probably hurt.
Once I was satisfied I had the shots I wanted, I sat back down and exchanged the camera for the knife. I dragged the tip along the bare skin on Kyle’s arm, and he sucked in a breath.
“M-Master?”
“Hmmm?” Down the left and up the right.
“Is… is that a knife?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured. “What goes on must come off, boy.”
He sucked in a breath.
I pried the wax loose from his nipples first, without the knife. I worked carefully so I didn’t pull the rings too hard, though I let myself tug on them at least a little. The hard points seemed to be begging for something, so I leaned forward and blew slightly over them.
Kyle moaned again, shifting on the bed.
“Hold still. Don’t want me to move this the wrong way, do you?” I asked, touching him again with the tip of the knife.
He made an
uh-uh
sound in the back of his throat and stilled. I loved watching his muscles strain as he fought to keep from moving. His breathing turned harsh, and I made a quiet soothing sound and brushed the hair back from his forehead.
When he’d settled, I slipped the edge of the butter knife under the top part of the wax and pulled it along his skin, gently working the wax free. Each piece I peeled away left light red, very sensitive skin behind.
I worked steadily on his chest, stomach, and legs, then dragged the knife along his inner thigh, grinning as he trembled at the thought of it being so close to his genitals. I teased his perineum with it, ran it around the base of his cock and balls, then over the wax covering his sac. He started panting harder when I slid it under the edge of the blue on his balls.
He let out a much louder whimper as I peeled this wax away slowly, letting it pull slightly on the skin. The oil didn’t let it stick too much, but apparently I’d missed a few spots. All the better.
He let out a breath when I finished his balls and cupped them. They were drawn up, and I squeezed a little, making sure he felt the vulnerable position as much as possible. I let go of them, then turned, finally, to the wax on his cock.
I teased his length first with the knife like I had his balls. I traced the ridge, slid it lightly over the tip, watching it jump and Kyle’s muscles quiver as he tried to hold still. Finally, I took pity on him and slipped the tip under the last of the wax. This came off easily, leaving Kyle’s length deep red, but from arousal, not the wax.
Precum dribbled continuously from his jumping cock, landing in a sticky puddle on his stomach. I teased the slit with a fingernail, then played for a long moment with his PA piercing. I brushed my fingers over the swollen length, listening to his sounds turn into a full whine.
Leaving Kyle to calm down for a moment, I picked up the paintbrush. The supersoft bristles running along his inner thigh elicited a new sound from his throat, sort of a combination of a grunt and whimper. Not what he’d been expecting. I grinned.
I teased each of the previously waxed spots with the brush until his sounds got louder. Then I set it down and lifted the lid on the bucket. I picked up a piece of ice and held it over a nipple. When the freezing water dripped, Kyle hissed and his nipple hardened further. I leaned forward while he panted and I licked it, giving him the cold/hot contrast. Kyle’s back arched, and I did the same to the other nipple, earning the same sounds. His reactions were going to be my undoing. I didn’t know how much more I had in me. I needed to be buried inside him soon.
I dragged the ice over most of the same places I had the brush, except his cock and balls. I had other plans for those. By the time I’d visited most of his chest, as well as his inner thighs, he was once more writhing under me.
I tossed the ice back in the bucket and shifted until I knelt between Kyle’s thighs. I bent forward, bracing myself on the bed with one hand, and lifted his hard cock with a finger on the other.