By His Rules (3 page)

stood in the doorway, facing the bedroom.

Aiden heard Scott open a cabinet in the bathroom

behind him, and a minute later a thick collar was placed

around his neck and fastened snugly. It was so wide

Aiden could barely move his head. Two ropes with steel

clips hung from either side of the doorway, and Scott

snapped the ropes to rings on either side of the collar so

that Aiden was cross-tied like a horse. Maybe “tack you

up” hadn’t been a metaphor.

Scott went back to the cabinet and then reached

around Aiden with what looked like a long, narrow cage

with a ring at the base. Aiden knew it was a chastity

device for his cock, and the idea of being blue balled

with a full bladder sent a wave of desperation through

him.

He gasped as Scott gripped the base of his cock and

began working him. “Oh yeah,” Aiden breathed, riding

Scott’s hand. “You’re making me so hot. Please let me

come for you, Sir… ” He doubled over in shock and

agony as Scott slapped his upright dick with an open

palm. Only the cross-ties kept him from dropping to his

knees. “Ow!” he shouted. “Fuck… ”

Scott smacked his ass once, twice, three times, so

hard that Aiden’s eyes watered. “Nice try, slut. Behave,

or I’ll land you another one on that twitchy dick of

yours.” He fitted the cock cage over Aiden’s dick and

secured it.

Scott pressed on the area just above Aiden’s groin.

Aiden winced and drew back, his body bumping against

Scott’s. Scott pushed harder.

“Need to piss?” Scott asked in Aiden’s ear.

“Yes, Sir,” Aiden whispered.

Scott backed away, and Aiden heard him take

something out of a box. Aiden battled the urge to ask

Scott what he was doing. Scott ordered him to bend

forward and stick his ass out. Aiden did, heart thudding.

A second later, something cold nudged his entrance.

“What is it?” Aiden asked before he could stop

himself.

Scott reached around and held the object in front of

Aiden. It was a well-lubed butt plug. Medium-sized—

not too intimidating, except for the device attached to the

plug’s base. It looked like four burrs strung together on a

flexible wire—four small, bristly spheres. The burr chain

arced out from the plug’s base, then bent back in so that

it ran parallel to the plug. Scott let Aiden study it for a

few seconds; then his hand disappeared, and Aiden felt

the tip of the plug seeking his entrance once more.

Scott spread Aiden’s cheeks wide and teased his

opening with the plug’s narrow end, fucking him with

the tip until Aiden finally let out the breath he’d been

holding and relaxed enough that Scott could slide the

plug inside him. It was always strange to adjust to a

plug, and Aiden shifted, trying to get comfortable. Then

Scott spread his cheeks once more and positioned the

flexible burr chain along his crack and against the soft

skin between his asshole and balls.

When Aiden moved, the burr chain scraped and

pricked his crack and taint. He danced for a moment in

the cross-ties, trying to contain the sensation. The burrs

ended right at the back of his balls, and the pain each

time his balls nudged the bristles was maddening. To

make matters worse, Scott slipped a black mask over his

eyes. With his sight gone, it was impossible not to

concentrate on the itchy pain between his legs.

Scott ducked under one of the cross ties and stood

in front of Aiden. Aiden could smell the beer on Scott’s

breath. Scott didn’t say anything, just stroked Aiden’s

cheek for a moment, and Aiden was suddenly as

frightened and frustrated as he could ever remember

being. He had to piss, his dick was caged, the skin

between his legs was being cruelly pricked and stung by

the burr chain, the collar was too tight, and he couldn’t

see. And here was Scott, obviously loving his pain,

reveling in his helplessness.

His tears flowed from under the blindfold and

Aiden tried to move a hand to his face to stop them

before Scott saw, but Scott caught his wrist and placed

Aiden’s arm back at his side. Scott cupped the back of

Aiden’s head, drawing him forward as much as the ties

would allow, until Aiden’s face was pressed against the

big man’s chest.

“I know,” Scott murmured. “It’s new. It hurts. But

it’s exciting too. Isn’t it?”

Aiden, all his pride gone, sniffed hard and nodded.

Scott’s heartbeat was slow and soothing, and Aiden liked

the feeling of Scott’s hand in his hair, not pulling, just

resting. He calmed suddenly. He could do this. He could

do this for Scott.

Scott pulled away and unclipped the cross ties,

then led him—by the hand this time—into the bedroom.

“Kneel,” Scott ordered, and Aiden did, wincing at the

horrible prickling between his legs.

He heard the creak of springs as Scott sat on the

bed, the quick purr of a zipper undone. Scott’s fingers

wound in his hair once more, pulling his head forward

until Aiden’s searching mouth found Scott’s hard,

bobbing cock.

“Suck me.”

Scott’s dick was thick and deliciously curved.

Aiden put his lips around it and licked up the shaft,

flicking his tongue against the head. He lapped at the

long, swollen vein on the organ’s underside and swirled

his tongue around and around his prize. He drew back

and kissed the slit, then began pounding the small,

sensitive opening with the tip of his tongue.

Scott’s fingers caught in his hair so fiercely and

suddenly that Aiden moaned. Scott began to fuck

Aiden’s mouth, grunting and slamming, making Aiden

gag. He kneed Aiden in the jaw as he thrust, and he

released Aiden’s hair only long enough to cuff the back

of his head and order Aiden to take more of him. Aiden

took the battering, determined not to lose focus. He

sucked and swallowed around Scott’s cock, taking Scott

deeper, deeper…

He was so lost in his performance that the sting of

the quirt came as a surprise. The double leather thongs

snapped against his naked ass, making him jump. Pain

from the burr chain between his legs shot through him at

the movement. Aiden swallowed a cry.

“The way you’re going, Shithead, I won’t come

until Christmas,” Scott said.

Aiden sucked harder. The quirt stung his ass, his

thighs, his hips and back until Aiden wanted to sob with

frustration. He was hard and humiliated, frantic and

tired. There was no pleasing Scott, who cursed him,

called him names, and whipped him.

Finally Aiden deserted technique, forgot finesse,

and attacked Scott’s cock as though it were the last

source of nourishment on earth. He kissed, sucked,

slurped, and used his hand to roll the heavy balls and

stroke the soft skin behind them. He felt sloppy,

unskilled, and overeager, but finally Scott tossed the

quirt aside, grabbed Aiden’s hair in both hands, and

shouted, “Yeah. Oh,
yeah
.”

Scott jerked and shot his cum down Aiden’s throat.

Aiden didn’t stop teasing the head of Scott’s cock with

his tongue, and Scott didn’t stop his long, slow thrusts

down Aiden’s throat until long after he was emptied.

Scott pulled out. He yanked off Aiden’s blindfold

and raked his fingers through Aiden’s hair, forcing Aiden

to look up at him. He spit, the saliva landing just below

Aiden’s right eye. Aiden flinched but made no move to

wipe his face. Scott watched him. His expression was

disdainful, but there was something else there.

Admiration? Pride? “Into the bed, Shithead,” he said

finally.

Aiden obeyed.

Aiden woke very early the next morning, not sure

where he was. He tried to move, but his wrists were

bound behind him. He was lying on a pile of towels on

an unfamiliar floor, facing a wall. His ass was sore inside

and out, his arms ached, and his throat felt bruised.

He was on Scott Runge’s floor.

Scott Runge had taken him home, stripped him,

beaten him, fucked his throat and ass. Scott Runge had

pinched his tits, kneaded his swollen bladder, tied his

wrists behind him, and left him here to sleep on the floor.

He’d made Aiden beg for the privilege of being used.

He’d called Aiden Shithead, spit on him, and demanded

to know if Aiden was capable of doing anything right.

Scott Runge had also kissed Aiden and stroked his

sweaty hair back from his face. He’d led Aiden to the

bathroom and rubbed circles on Aiden’s stomach as

Aiden experienced the unparalleled relief of pissing after

holding it for so long. Scott had removed the horrible

butt plug and applied salve to the skin that had been

scratched raw by the burr chain. He’d rubbed the welts

his belt had left on Aiden’s ass and told Aiden that his

pain threshold was impressive.

Aiden’s cock grew at the memory, and he would

have given anything to be able to touch himself. He

stared at the wall, listening. Where was Scott? Was he

going to play with Aiden some more before letting him

go? Aiden wanted to go home, wanted to shower and eat

and crawl into bed and jack off to memories of Scott until

it was time for him to go to work. He tried to roll over,

but it was difficult with his arms bound behind him.

Scott entered the bedroom. Aiden held his breath as

the man crouched beside him and undid the restraints

around his wrists and ankles. Aiden slowly flexed his

arms. He wondered if he should get up or lie here and

await Scott’s instructions. Scott took Aiden’s wrists and

rubbed them, bringing some circulation back. Then he

rolled Aiden over, pulled him onto his knees, and kissed

him. Aiden kissed back hungrily. “Stand up,” Scott

whispered.

Aiden stood. Scott circled him. He fingered the

bruises on Aiden’s ass, murmuring, “Very nice.” He

rolled one of Aiden’s swollen nipples between his thumb

and forefinger, smiling as Aiden’s breath caught. He put

a hand around Aiden’s throat and applied the slightest

pressure. Aiden’s heart sped up. Then he moved his

hand down and stroked Aiden’s chest, his stomach, and

brushed over Aiden’s stiffening cock. Aiden whimpered.

“Get dressed.” Scott motioned to a small wooden

chair in the corner, where Aiden’s clothes were folded.

Aiden remembered bending over that same chair last

night, being told to keep his palms flat on the seat while

Scott strapped him with a thick leather belt.

Aiden dressed quickly.

“Sit,” Scott ordered.

Aiden sat on the wooden chair, his aching ass

protesting.

Scott took Aiden’s chin in his hand and stroked

Aiden’s jaw with his thumb. “You could be a decent sub

with some training,” Scott said.

Aiden felt the flash of anger again. He
was
a good

sub. Any top would attest to that. It was Aiden who

could afford to be discerning, Aiden who was sought

after, Aiden who reserved the right to judge a top’s

prowess. Something of his outrage must have shown in

his eyes, because a faint smile appeared on Scott’s lips.

“Do you agree?” Scott asked.

Aiden dropped his gaze. “Yes, Sir.”

“Look at me.”

Aiden did.

“Would you consider entering my service?”

“Wh-what do you mean, Sir?”

“I mean… ” Scott leaned forward so that his

whisper blasted heat into Aiden’s ear. “Are you willing

to be trained? Will you come here multiple times per

week to be fucked, whipped, and tortured? Will you

serve me and only me, until you’re the best sub I can

make you?” Scott grabbed Aiden’s hair, not pulling but

holding it firmly. “Will you admit I own your body, and

that your only desire, when you’re in my presence, is to

please me? And do you understand that when you fail to

do so, I will punish you severely?” Scott sank his teeth

into the side of Aiden’s neck and bit down until Aiden

whimpered. “Do you want to learn what it means to

submit, Shithead, or do you want to stay what you are—