JUSTIN’S POV
You awake the next morning--well, to be fair, it was after lunch--to Brian’s fingers combing through your hair. Your vision still blurry, you can tell by the way he smells that he’s gotten dressed even before you see the denim clinging to his thigh. He smiles when he sees your eyes start to open.
“Where’d you go?” you ask, not even realizing he’d left you.
“You made me an appointment at the salon, remember?”
You sort of remember, the memory is trapped somewhere down in your toes. “You left me?” you ask, wondering why you sound so needy.
“You were snoring like a freight train. I left you a note,” he says, picking it up off the night table and balling it up in his hand.
“I want to read it.” You reach for it and he pulls it away and then gives it back to you. You uncrumple the paper:
At the salon. My expectations are in the bathroom. Take care of it. --B
It’s not what you want to do this morning--shit, this afternoon--but Brian has this expectant look on his face. “You haven’t even pissed yet, have you?”
“No.”
His hand is on your face, and you press it against the pillow, trying to hold onto it, “Do you remember last night?” His voice is soft and sweet and a complete con job that you fall for every single time.
“I could use a little reminding,” you say, and he laughs because that means you remember everything.
“You won’t get that until you do what I left for you.”
You know what he means, that there’s an enema kit in the bathroom, but you protest anyway, “I like it when you do it for me.” That needy feeling starts rising like bile in the back of your throat again so you swallow it. His hand slides off your face and disappears under the sheets, beckoning you to roll toward him, so like a fool, you do. He slaps your ass twice, gets up and tells you to come find him in his office when you’re done. He leaves you freezing, having torn the sheet off of you on the way out and thrown it on the floor.
*****
You cross the hall stark naked and find him when you’re done and ask him if you need to take a shower, and he says, “Did I ask you to?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, sir.”
“Your clothes are on the end of the bed. Put them on.”
You leave him again to do this, pulling a pair of white socks out of your drawer because you’re fucking freezing, but you don’t put them on because he didn’t specifically leave them out for you. Your clothes for today are brand new, thicker grey cotton pajamas. He’s finally accepted that it’s winter. You return to him and set the socks on his desk as you stand in front of him and he looks you up and down and then smiles and says, “Perfect.” He stands up fast and pushes you against the wall, the office light switch digging into your back as he smells you, burying his nose in your collarbone and holding your hands hostage over your head. The collar of his black leather jack chills your cheek, a reminder of how he can be so soft and so cold at the same time.
“I wanted to jerk off all over you this morning while you were sleeping,” he tells you, his voice warming your veins. “Wanna know why?”
“Yes,” you say. It comes like a desperate squeak.
His voice gets lower, coarser, “Because you were such a good boy for me last night. Because you let me spank you and tie you up and fuck you over and over and over.”
“I’ll always let you,” you whisper.
“Sore today?” When you admit that you are, he practically growls in your ear. The bite to your earlobe feels like a relief; he’s coming toward you at the speed of attraction. You make sure you’re standing precisely in the way. “There are things I want to do to you, Justin. Things I shouldn’t want.. I built that dungeon for you, but--” He stops, drops your hands and squeezes you hard, his arms folded around you, “But it makes me want things.”
“I want you to be happy. I don’t care what it is.”
He laughs and puts his face an inch from yours, “Justin..,” almost like he’s scolding you. You feel condensation beneath your skin. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” Brian stuffs your socks in his jacket pocket, takes your hand, and starts walking you down the stairs, adding, “This goes way beyond happy.”
*****
There’s an intensity all over Brian that’s genuinely making you blissful and nervous at the same time. You stop him in the kitchen when you see a paper bag from your favorite deli on the kitchen counter because you’re starving. “You want lunch?” he asks and when you nod ‘yes,’ he tells you not to worry. That it’s waiting for you downstairs. He tugs on your hand and opens the door to the basement. Your bare feet press against icy stairs as you follow him down. He leads you to the door of the dungeon where thankfully, there’s a small carpet that gets you off the concrete. “On your knees,” he says matter-of-factly. You kneel down and stare at the floor and then he’s down there with you. “I need to ask a few questions,” he says, “And there’s a right answer and a wrong answer. You don’t want to give me the wrong answer, understand?” You don’t, but you say that you do as he pulls your black leather collar out of his jacket pocket and fastens it around your neck. “Now, if you’re wondering what the right answer is, it’s the answer you’d give if I asked you if you were hungry right now. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.” You stare at the crease in his black leather boots as he balances, squatted down in front of you. He starts out with something kind of obvious, “Are you cold, Justin?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to be warmer?”
Another no brainer. “Yes.” He takes your hand and pulls it toward the bottom of the dungeon door so you can feel the heat seeping out, “Do you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that whatever’s waiting in there for you is for your own good?”
You hesitate a second because you weren’t quite expecting that, “Yes.”
He senses your nerves, “Let’s back up a minute, then. Do you trust me, Justin?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that I know exactly what you need?”
“Yes.”
“Spread your knees.” It’s not a question, but you do what he says, watching his hand move between them, touching you, “You’re hard, Justin. Are you wet?”
“Yes.”
“Up on your knees for me.” You lift up and feel yourself start to tremble--from him and from low blood sugar. He puts his hand in your pants. You reach for him now because you feel like you might faint, your forehead falling against his chest. He smells so powerful. He finally lets his knees touch the carpet and holds you against him, stroking you as you quiver. “It’s okay,” he says, “You just need to eat. Calm down. I’ve got you.”
You moan from the friction on your cock, and he lifts your chin and kisses you. You’re hungry for him more than anything else, and you really believe that until your stomach growls. You both laugh a little as he stands up and turns the doorknob to the dungeon. The heat rushes out, headed straight for you. “Hands and knees,” he says as he leans down and clips something to your collar.
He leads you inside, closes the door, and points to what’s behind it. You see it and freak out a little. “No, Brian.”
“You need to eat,” he reminds you, pointing to the white ceramic bowls on the floor. They both say, “SUNSHINE.” One of them holds your favorite sandwich from the deli, shredded in a heap, and the other what you can only surmise is Diet Coke. A few feet away from your lunch is a huge dog kennel. The door is open and there’s an old, ratty blanket inside. You feel yourself start to cry.
*****
The room isn’t just warm. It’s hot. He knows you’re holding back tears and tries to make you laugh, “I didn’t make you get the newspaper for me. What’s there to cry about?”
“This,” you say, half-choking.
He drops your leash and it pools on the floor beside you. He starts to undress, leaving himself in nothing but a pair of jeans and then he sits down next to you and undresses you completely, your shirt trailing down the leash until it can finally be released. “Put your face in your bowl, Justin,” he says when you’re naked, “Keep your bottom up and your legs spread.” And when you don’t exactly comply, Brian adds, “You shouldn’t be thinking about anything except what I’m telling you to do. Clear your mind and eat your lunch.”
The shredded sandwich is room temperature and mushy, but you close your eyes and taste it, and the first time you swallow, Brian moves closer to you, rubbing your back and pressing down between your shoulder blades, “Bottom up, Justin.” You continue to eat, realizing that the more you eat, the more he touches you. When you finally make yourself take a drink, his hand moves to your ass, his fingers trailing up and down your crack. You spread your legs further and try to finish your sandwich. You’re about halfway done with it, when he moves from his knees to sitting all the way down, his newly-pedicured foot pressing on your head, smashing it into your food. You hold your breath when you hear something snap open, and then his fingers are cold and wet and teasing you. You close your eyes, no doubt coating your eyelashes with mayonnaise as he fingers you. Your cock is hanging heavy and dripping on the floor.
“That’s a good boy, Justin. You’re making me hard.” He fucks you faster. “If you come on this floor, you’re going to eat it.” You start to grunt, your forehead banging against the far side of your bowl. You feel your orgasm start, and he feels you tighten and stops, pulling your face up out of your bowl. You look at him through spinach hanging off your eyebrow. You should be embarrassed to be covered in food, but you’re not. He looks more like a rabid dog than you do. He scrambles to his feet, walking backwards and pulling on your leash until he bumps into the bed. “Stay,” he says as he pops the buttons on his fly and stuffs his pants down by his ankles before kicking them off. Your leash in hand, he throws himself back on the bed, his legs spread wide open and tugs, “Eat my ass like a good dog. Get in there.”
He spreads himself for you as you smash your dirty face against his asshole and lick and lick and poke him until he’s going fucking crazy. You’re wearing a leash, but he’s the one about to howl at the moon. You’ve never seen him like this, so frenetic, so urgent. “Need to fuck you,” he starts to pant, “I'm gonna come. Hurry up. Get back to your dish.” You crawl back as fast as you can because he sounds almost manic. You don’t wait for his instruction; you just plant your face back in your food and in seconds, he’s behind you, and you can feel the priceless sensation of him pushing to get inside your ass and he moans loud when he gets in deep, hovering over you and holding your face down. “Goddamn dog,” he growls as things start to get really rough, “It's never enough for you, is it? Never hard enough--” Your moaning becomes loud and rhythmic, almost chant-like as he grabs your hips with both hands and starts moving harder and faster. "Answer me."
"No," you admit into your dish.
"You want it to hurt, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Tell me again."
"Yes...please."
He blurts out your name and spills everywhere inside you as a piece of tomato gets stuck in your nose. Then he makes you get up, turn around, and put your bowl between your knees. You lean against him, seeing stars, as he kneels in front of you, “Come in your bowl like a good dog.”
He makes you lick it clean.
You both need a shower when it’s over, but you get to go first on your hands and knees. Brian washes you like a dog, spraying you down like a recalcitrant mutt, water and shampoo flooding past your squeezed-shut eyes. You have to keep spitting it out as it speeds down your face. He wraps you in a huge towel when he’s done and orders you to lie on the carpeted bathroom floor while he takes a shower fit for the god he looks like. It’s so fucking hot in the bathroom that you soon shed the towel and just lie there waiting for him, your collar still tight around your neck.
*****
“You look so fucking hot,” you tell him when he’s done, a towel wrapped around his waist. He sits down on the floor with you; the heated carpet feels like heaven. You reach for his towel and pull on it until it unravels, and he closes his eyes halfway, stroking himself as you lie there just watching him. “C’mere,” he says after a minute or so, indicating that he wants you to sit on his lap...and his cock. He looks down, tracing the marks he made on your legs the night before as you rock with him so deep inside you. You lean forward and kiss him...soft, sweet, wanting...and then you feel your collar pop free...