Page 33 of Bottoms Up
Silver didn’t say a word, didn’t pause, didn’t offer comfort. Just mercilessly drove that thing into me until my legs shook from the strain. I was panting despite not needing to breathe, my knees threatened to buckle, and my cock was hard the whole time — throbbing uselessly inside the cage, fighting for space it couldn’t have. Pain bloomed through me, low and hot and hungry, and the worst part was that it didn’t kill the arousal. It twisted it. Amplified it.
I’d been trained to get hard when I was hurt. Shamed when my cock responded, like Iwantedit. Punished worse when it didn’t, like I was broken. Defective.
The cruelest were the paired sessions — punishment when we failed to get erect when hurt. Two soft boys shoved into what they now call a sixty-nine, told to make the other hard while we were whipped, paddled, raped. Or worse, if the trainers were especially annoyed.
If the boy I sucked stayed soft, I was punished harder, beaten by a second person in a different location for being so inexperienced at oral pleasure. Often, the bottoms of our feet were caned on top of whatever else was being done to us, so it hurt to walk fordays.
If I couldn’t get hard in his mouth, he suffered extra punishments while I was helpless to save him — unless I couldmanage to get the blood to flow where they wanted it. And if neither of us could respond? Heaven help us.
It didn’t matter what I wanted. My body was never mine. Failure in either direction just meant either emotional degradation when we succeeded, or physical agony along with humiliation when our bodies wouldn’t respond.
So no, it wasn’t surprising that I was both aroused and ashamed now — that my cock betrayed me even as my heart curled in on itself. I’d been trained to confuse obedience with desire, pain with eagerness and lust. The lessons had fully taken hold as a human and then been reinforced — hardened into reflex — over the centuries.
Silver was relentless with the giant, unforgiving, monstrousthinghe fucked me with. Stretch, friction, heat. Even with my height, it went too deep — distending me until the pain turned sharp.
I was sweating, shaking, and biting down on the screams in my throat when he finally yanked it from me, and a shriek ripped from my chest.
He tossed it aside, and I heard the clatter as it hit the floor.
“Onto the table, slave. Sit on the cushion and lean against the wedge.”
My body stuttered with relief, even knowing what came next would be worse. I turned to climb onto the table, and caught a glimpse of what he’d used on me.
A troll-sized dildo. Mounted to a handle like a medieval battering ram.
No wonder it’d reminded me of being fucked by a damned troll.
Once I was leaned back against the wedge, Silver wrapped more straps around me, the wedge, and the bondage table, securing me so I couldn’t sit up. Couldn’t escape.
He lifted my legs, bent them wide, and guided each one into a stirrup hanging from the ceiling.
The stirrups wrapped around my legs from knees to ankles, padded but unyielding. I wasn’t going anywhere. More straps ran from the stirrups to the table, anchoring them at an angle — ankles over the outer edges, knees drawn tight to my upper arms, near my shoulders. Not exactly painful, but not comfortable, either. And I knew exactly what this position was meant to offer: full, unrestricted access to my balls.
It wasn’t lost on me how much this mirrored…before.
When this had been done to me as a child, I’d been seated upright, legs bound wide and lifted. A man had sat behind me, arms wrapped tight around my torso and thighs, locking me in place while someone else stood ready with a bowl — for when I vomited.
Because when the pain gets that bad, you puke your guts up.
Knowing what I do now, it makes sense I wasn’t flat on my back. I imagine they probably lost boys who died when they choked on their vomit.
I hadn’t been allowed food for a full day before they did theprocedure, but there’s still bile in your stomach, whether there’s food or not.
Silver sat in front of me, lifted my balls, and slid a slab of cold marble under them. I’d wondered how this was going to work with the large cushion he’d sat me on. I guess this explained it.
When the stone was in place, my balls resting heavy and exposed, the cock cage keeping my dick out of the way, Silver looked me straight in the eye and said, “You got into position of your own free will, and that was important. Now that you’re here and bound, it’s important you continue to use your free will to consent to what’s about to happen. If you wish for me to stop, you must tell me you don’t consent to being my slave. This willstop all activity, and then your true Master will come in and…” he shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what he’ll do, if that’s your choice.”
He kissed his finger and touched it to one of my balls, then the other. “I’ll love you, no matter what. If this doesn’t work for you, nothing will change. I’ll still be here. However, if you haven’t changed your mind when we’re finished here in about two hours, then you’ll be mine for the next nine to eighteen months, and there won’t be anything you can say or do to change that.”
There it was. My out.
Except it wasn’t. Not really.
Because sayingnodidn’t mean I got to leave. It meant Marco took back control. It meant decades of limbo, maybe longer, and the window to real freedom might never open again. Saying no would break Silver’s heart. Saying yes would break my body.
I swallowed hard.
“I’m yours, Master.”
