“You’re going to learn a lesson, and it’s in your best interest to learn it well. When I say don’t touch, you don’t touch. You’re getting off easy with only two days. Next time, it’s a month,” he reminds me.
I groan. But fucking Gods do I love the strictness in his tone. It’s enough that I can’t take my eyes off him. Strictness like that wraps around me, seeps into my veins, and fills my locked-up cock.
He shrugs. “It’s easy. Behave yourself, and you won’t have anything to worry about.”
My eyes narrow. He laughs.
As soon as we step foot in the forbidden hallways, my back meets the wall, and my wrists are pinned to it by Zhang’s formidable hands. He’s all over me, pressing his cock against my caged one, attacking my mouth. His words from before are still all over me too, and that’s what’s got me submitting like a good boy.
I dunno. They do something to me in the right decibel. From the right person. My mind’s having a hard time reconciling that Zhang’s got what I need, but my body’s already way up to speed.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he says out of breath. He takes my hand and tugs me forward.
We enter a land of sex and mayhem. There are lounging areas where people are making out, and fountains with groups sitting around them, pretending they’re not just here for exhibitionist-style sex by sipping on tea with their clothes on, all proper like. But it’d be kinda hard for me to pretend like nothing’s going on—at least for me—with the soundtrack of sinful moans and pained cries, echoing from balconies and down the halls.
“You want to own me in front of everyone again,” I accuse him.
“I loved what we did in the chastity shop.”
“Me too,” I agree. Zhang taking me like that was out-of-this-galaxy hot. What’s he got up his sleeve for today? The unknown thrills me. Huh, maybe danger kink doesn’t always have to involve high stakes. It can also be not knowing what the fuck’s about to happen.
The hallways are filled with varying kinds of apparatus that are attached to the walls. Will he attach me to one of those? He doesn’t. He takes me to a room filled with round wooden tables and chairs. Stars sit around drinking mead, taking in the action around them. Other stars are bound to benches, getting wailed on by paddles or someone’s cock.
Holy fuck. That’s about to be me. Gods. I would never have guessed that Mr. Purity would ever take me to a place like this. It’s always the quiet ones.
“Time for you to undress. Take your things off—all of them—and join me in that far corner.”
“Yes, Sir!” I probably shouldn’t be so excited for my own personalized session of sexual torture, but I am. I live for this stuff.
There’s a hook for me to hang my things. How kind. Then it’s making the trek naked across the room. I keep focused on Zhang who’s taking things off the wall while eyeing me with withering heat. It draws me in.
My cock’s already brimming with sensation. Everything’s heightened. Even the wood under my bare toe pads is unnecessarily coarse, as if everything about this room is meant to bring the ultimate uproar of titillation.
There are no windows for the sun to get in. The room relies on starlight from the ethers and the cheery glow of stars. None of the typical ostentatiousness of the rest of the palace is present. It’s giving sinful vibes.
A deep purple bench without legs is attached to the wall and extends away from it. There’s a space in the center that’s obviously ass shaped. Guess whose ass is going there?
Zhang pats the spot for my ass. “Up.”
This has got to be my ultimate humiliation fantasy, and I won’t even get to come. I’ll kill Zhang for this. It’s going to be pleasure torture. But, uh, I’m not going to say a thing about it. Not with the one-month in chastity threat hanging over my head.
I quickly climb the bench, and my naked skin touches cool leather. My nuts nestle into an area that seems made for them. There’s a gentle ridge that settles between my cheeks. From atop my post, I get to watch my sexy husband remove his jacket. Then, with crisp efficiency, he rolls up his sleeves to the biceps. They bulge and flex, a nice hot vein beating across them.
I can’t breathe. Dear, Gods. Those biceps lead to wide forearms and hands I want imprinting on my ass.
“Arms up. Arch forward a little. I’ll support you, babe.”
“How kind,” I say, lacing my words with as much sarcasm as I can muster. It’s unwise to antagonize a sadist in their element, but I refuse to make it too easy. Unfortunately, my words don’t have any effect on him. His smile’s all glee.
But I get to rest against his massive form. It’s reassuring, and he smells like man. My eyes dart around the room.Are people staring? Prickles break out across my skin.
“No. Focus on me, Treyu. Don’t worry about them. They’re not the guy who’s about to roast your ass.”
I whimper and wiggle, a fruitless attempt for friction. Just my dick about to boil off from heat and we haven’t even started yet.
“Yes, Sir.”
Using rope, he secures my wrists above my head about half a foot in front of me so that I’m forced to lean forward, arch my back, and stick out my ass, exposing it more. Gods, everyone can see my pink pucker.
