Page 29 of Naughty Dreams
“Can’t stop…shaking.”
“Try.”
But the more he tried, the worse it got. His expression became desperate and helpless. “I’m sorry. Sorry, Sir.”
“Anything you can’t control, Dory, belongs to me. So in this moment, your whole body belongs to me. Including your dick.”
DJ wasn’t a newbie to sex and excess. He was a rockstar, for God’s sake. But he was with someone who could do things to him he wanted, but hadn’t been able to trust anyone to do. His body had been seized by the possibilities.
When he fantasized about this kind of thing, he’d get excited as soon as he started to imagine exactly what Roy was doing. Things that seemed so simple. Like standing over him, unsmiling, looking impossibly sexy in jeans. Not even touching DJ, and yet his whole body was revved up like a groupie was going down on him with sweet wet lips.
When Roy dropped to his heels again, he rubbed his hand over DJ’s cock, curling his fingers over the damp head. He licked the essence off his palm and removed a studded strap from his pocket.
It was an adjustable cock ring, the studs marking the snaps along the black strap. DJ supposed asking Roy to keep it in his pocket while he was on the job would break those boundary rules Roy wasn’t sure DJ could observe, so he’d bite back the suggestion.
But thinking about it tucked inside Roy’s suit jacket would be so damn distracting.
Roy wrapped the strap around the base of DJ’s cock and snapped it closed. The studs were on both sides, their rounded smoothness not so smooth when they dug into his rigid flesh. That discomfort and the tight hold kept him from blowing when Roy bent and put his mouth on the crown. He closed his hand around the shaft and held it tighter than the cock ring.
Oh, fuck…fuck…
“Stay still, Dory. I don’t want you to move.”
He tried. He really, really tried. During all those fantasies, he’d doubted how much he’d be able to relinquish to a Master. But Roy’s touch and command made DJ tenaciously embrace the impossible request not to move. His rational mind went somewhere the fuck else. All DJ wanted was to please Roy. Do what Roy told him.
Tears of stress trickled from his eyes, and when Roy gripped his balls, a needy animal sound tore from his throat. He was playing his tongue over DJ’s slit, sucking on him, squeezing his shaft.
Without that strap, he would have come. With it, he was throbbing, uncomfortable, hurting, and yet never wanting Roy’s mouth to stop doing what it was doing. Roy lifted his head so he could pull something else out of his pocket. A silver money clip.
He freed the folded cash from it and put that back in the pocket before he held the clip up.
“It has an engraving. Do you want to know what it says?”
Roy wanted him to speak in some coherent way. Was he fucking insane?
The steel gray eyes sharpened.
“Y-yes. Sir.”
“‘A man must master himself before he can Master others.’ The second ‘master’ is capitalized. The Domme who mentored me gave me that. The clip works well between the testicles, pushing them apart, but it pinches like a mother.”
“The cock ring already isn’t…a picnic.” DJ figured if he’d been asked to answer a question, it was okay to offer some editorial input.
“Too much?” Roy dipped his head and breathed on his cock, then put his mouth over the whole thing. All the way down, his lips on the strap. DJ moaned and tried not to thrust into his Master’s mouth.
“Holy hell…Roy…please… Sir…”
Roy slid his mouth off of DJ’s cock and reached down to unsnap the strap. He massaged the shaft, easing the sudden painful rush of blood. To resist the need to orgasm, DJ thought he might have to turn on his side and draw his legs up in a fetal position, but his Master wanted him on his back, and had his hand on him.
“You’re doing very well, Dory,” Roy murmured. “You’re pleasing me.”
Just like that, he could hold out a second longer. Maybe two seconds, or three.
Roy tucked the strap away with the clip. DJ wondered what the clip would have felt like. If he could have borne that discomfort for Roy.
“Another time,” Roy said, reading his expression.
He removed the belt and helped DJ sit up, an arm around his back. DJ’s pants remained open, his aching cock accessible. Roy stroked the hair from his face as he stayed on one knee, letting DJ lean against him.
