Shy Guys Make Good Boys Pt. 02

He smiled at the look in my eyes, at my gentle nudge, as discreet as I'd made it. "Um, it's okay if you answer in this case. She's asking because they all think I'm gay, but to clarify, yes, we're dating dating, Rachel."

I couldn't keep from a grin. "You think he's gay?"

She gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I mean but only really because he never brings girls home anymore and Mom was convinced he was trying to keep it secret or something. I kept saying that he didn't give off those vibes, though."

That was interesting, but not nearly as interesting as how casual Ryan was about it. He shrugged when I looked at him. "It was easier to let them all think that than to deal with them asking if there were any girls I was interested in." He made a face. "Dating was getting stressful."

And here's why it was such an interesting conversation. Barring the fact that Ryan wasn't particularly effeminate in nature, barring the fact that nothing about him made me think he was gay with all the experience I had in a place like Sulfur's, barring how he would rather propagate that thought than deal with his family asking questions about his relationship status, barring all of that? It was that last sentence that made me pause with a new kind of knowledge, one that warmed my heart so much that it distressed me.

Because I knew why relationships would have stressed him out. I could guess about nineteen reasons off of what I knew about him without talking about it first. I hadn't stopped to think about it but it suddenly clicked, just how submissive he was in nature. Of course I already had some obvious indicators, things like how much he loved wearing his cock cage all the time and he truly did enjoy his denial in favor of only receiving pleasure when I wished to see him have it for my own amusement. That wasn't a light thing. So no, I had the indicators that I've already mentioned.

But that knowledge made me stop and truly consider some of the friends I knew from Sulfur's. For instance, Christopher's slave was a submissive named Deirdre who had always used submission as a form of therapy in her day to day life. It was how she coped. She would start fraying at the edges due to the stress of life or whatever else might come her way and she would come back to life with a session of submitting because pleasing someone else made her calm again. It gave her the strength to deal with how many people she couldn't please when no one was ever capable of pleasing everyone. Now, of course, as Christopher's slave she was the most happy when she was given a constant source of happy validation in his collar. Christopher wasn't the light kind of Master either. He had entire lists of rules and a kind of stuffiness that would drive most submissives insane. I know I couldn't have dealt with it. But for someone like Deirdre, where submission was a deeply ingrained part of her nature? It was freedom. It was bliss.

I considered that along with what I knew of her vanilla relationship attempts and how she had said it was the worst. She'd end up pissed off all the time with someone who wouldn't take control when she needed them to take control and her emotions would run rampant with fears of not doing what would please them when they wouldn't tell her how to please them. She said it was awkward and awful.

I held Ryan's hand tighter, thinking of how quickly Christopher had been drawn to him. Of course he wouldn't date. Of course he'd be confused and conflicted. I imagined that look on his face when he both teased me and just as wonderfully made me feel so acceptant of my own flaws, in a way that only a submissive really ever could, when that was something that took a special kind of heart and wasn't borne from sexual kinks, but instead was just a nature. Jesus, it must have been torture for him when someone took him on a date and left decisions to him, when he had the hang up that a lot of male subs had, how society had always told them that they were supposed to be the decisive one, that they were supposed to make those choices. How freaking nightmarish would it be to go on a vanilla date with that mindset and torture yourself the entire bloody time with stress to ruin a perfectly good time?

It was a moment that almost broke me, one that made my heart feel so warm with the thought of how good he was, because he was. I already wanted to keep him as mine and not in a way that was much in the way of a partner. No, I already wanted him back in his leash or in his dog mask.

I smiled at Rachel. "No, we're dating dating, as much as I hate disappointing anyone."

She laughed at that, while I thought about those other fears of heartache I had. They no longer seemed like they mattered really.

He'd be worth it, every last bit of it. Even if it hurt like hell and didn't work out, the experience would damn straight be worth it. I still didn't have an exact plan in mind, still didn't have a full idea of where these things might lead, but I did know that I wanted them to go somewhere and I wanted to be part of wherever that somewhere was.

It wasn't the exact moment where I broke, but I can pinpoint that as one of those moments, like steady pressure being given to my armor, which was already melting and cracking, lines fracturing out from impact points. No, see, the exact moment where I broke, where it all came to a head wouldn't be for a few months, actually.

But they were far from a boring or stagnant few months. After we watched the movie together that night, I made Ryan show me his place and then took him back to mine in the starting point of a routine that spiraled into fucking ecstasy.

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Ryan

It was like being caught in a whirlwind. That night, she barely got me through her door before she was all over me, when she finally seemed to decide she was done leashing all that fire she could have, when she let loose that same animal that had held a riding crop beneath my chin and lifted me for a kiss sparked with her strangely delicate brand of violence. Her hands were fierce in my hair and she kissed with this purring sound of lust before she managed to pull away. "Lift me up against the wall."

And I moaned before I did, when she was that much smaller than me and it was natural for her to wrap her legs around my waist, her dress riding up her thighs, and it made me sigh out a pained breath when I instantly throbbed in the cock cage. But then her lips were back on mine in messy, hot kisses and she ate up all of my sighs of torment, riding me in this dancing motion that was hotter than hell. It was torture how sexual it was and it made my vision run hazy, so that all I could think of was desire and need.

But of course she loved that because she was Sonya. The woman, the goddess. She loved it because that state made me wildly obedient and she took advantage of that fact when she tugged down her dress and lifted one of my hands to cover her breast. "Mistress," I whispered it, with more than a little begging behind saying her name like that. "Please."

She didn't give me mercy yet and I loved her for that. "Roll the nipple like this." She took my fingers and showed me just how she wanted it, tossing her head back with ecstasy. "Oh, Christ, that's it. Tug. Harder." I did it, inhaling the scent of sex, losing my mind a little with how she was riding me hard, then harder. She was vibrant with her desire and she never held anything back ever. She grasped my head and pulled my face back to hers when her body went off in release in my arms, kissing me to smother the cry into my mouth so that I gently held her tighter.

It was all too whole and right when she pulled us apart with a soft press against my shoulders and then pressed me to my knees. "Give me your hands." She took my wrists together in her small hand and grabbed me by my hair again. "You want to get off later? You're going to let me ride your face nice and hard first and you're going to do exactly what I tell you to with your tongue."

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered it, eager and in a kind of hell all at once while staring up at her pussy after she took off her silky thong. She pressed my face to her and I laved up her slit in the way she loved most, thrilling to the sound of her eager cry over me, to the way she pulled my hair to have me closer, to make me work my tongue faster. The hot, sultry scent encompassed everything after about a few seconds and I loved it so much that the chastity cage punished me for the enjoyment.

When she pulled my face away, all I could see when I looked up was her. The rest of the world was a red background of lust and need. I pressed eagerly back to her pussy when she gave me the slightest pull, when the only release anymore felt like her pleasure, when everything faded into the thoughtlessness of needing her approval. Because her approval was the way to release.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you're good with that tongue of yours, baby, but you need help. Let me teach you a little bit."

She taught me for an hour that felt like eternity, teaching me exactly how to flick my tongue up to her clit in a way to tease her the most, teaching me exactly how to thrust my tongue when she was worked up, then teaching me how to suck harder when she was riding me in a rhythm close to the ledge of release. "Good boy. Let's play again."

I moaned and obeyed when I didn't particularly want to find my way back out of subspace, when I was reaching that strange place that I had been so intrigued by in Sulfur's where even Christopher's touch had felt like comfort, where it wasn't about the sex, where I wasn't sure how far down in this I was falling, what I even was to her anymore. It didn't feel like a boyfriend.

Or maybe I just didn't want it to feel like being her boyfriend, which was far more terrifying.

At the end of the night, when I finally satisfied her, she'd whispered her reward in my ear, and she'd chained me in cuffs and attached my leash to my collar by that point, so that she was tugging the leash and I was tugging against the bondage holding my hands behind me. "Why don't you fuck me so you can cum inside me, baby?"

I moaned in her ear, in so much pain that I didn't even think about the answer. "Yes, please, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

She'd laughed and unlocked my cage, then unchained my cuffs before she lay on her back, smiling up at me with a wicked look, tugging my leash so that I crawled over her. "It's okay. That was mean, I know, and later, we'll work on making you last as long as we want, but why don't you just enjoy being rewarded now?"

I moaned with what that might mean for later, but every last thought was gone when I pressed to her entrance, when she was so drenched and silken all at once that it made me shudder in ecstasy, a body spasm with the best sensation I'd ever felt in my life. She surrounded me, a caress, and her voice was soft when she told me squeeze her tits, when she commanded me to stroke her, when her smile was still sinful with intent, and it was all enough to set me off, so that my world went white and my ears rang with the orgasm. I couldn't keep from a barked cry of a sound again, couldn't keep from that release that was pain when it was so good, so goddamned good, that it felt like hell.

She was still smiling when I came back to, staring down at her from my position over her, suddenly realizing it was the first time we'd actually had sex.

When the exhaustion set in was when her soft voice had that other command for me, one I was becoming so very used to. She tugged my chain leash and clicked her tongue, so that I crawled backwards in a daze, head bowed. "Good boy toy. Lick me clean."

I shuddered with the thought, with how much I loved how I hated doing it, with bliss better than even release, and backed away enough to lower my face to her pussy again, licking with a soft, defeated mewl. I raised my eyes up to her at one point and she was rested back against the pillow with a look of total contentment on her face, her eyes closed while she stroked my hair, as if enjoying the satiation of her humiliating control, in the same way a cat enjoyed being lazy after a kill. I shuddered again and went back to licking my cum from her pussy.

It only got better when, at the end, she held me cuddled against her stomach, petting my hair in gentle strokes while she enjoyed us both when we were satisfied and lazy together. When it came time for bed, though, in the early hours of the morning, she tethered my leash to her bed frame and rolled over. "Hold me."

I woke up laying on my back while she lay cuddled against my side, one hand wrapped across my chest, so small against me. I carefully wrapped her closer, slowly so I didn't wake her, and curled over her in one of the rare moments where I would allow that sense of protective submission to have its sway. Her braid was a mess so that I smiled with the thought that my Mord-Sith fantasies were hotter with the reality of them, when the reality came with things like messy braids.

And, of course, my cock cage went back on the next morning when we finally woke up together and she taught me how she liked to be bathed, when she started a routine there as well. Little tethers of the slightest ideas wrapped us together through the beginnings of small rituals that would tie me to her as effectively as the chains she sometimes used to hold me.

What was interesting was her insistence on our dates, though. I started to piece it together with a submissive's eyes, where I was sensitive to her comfort zone when of course I would be when I wanted to serve in those boundaries, in the same way that of course she would be sensitive to my sexual comfort zones for the contrasting reason that she wanted to press mine. It was a fascinating thought to see come to life, the differences and similarities in our roles, but I digress.

See, she initially insisted on a date again immediately after that night of training me to better eat her out, wishing to take me to dinner again. That time she had me meet her at the entrance to her apartment building and her eyes were playful and wicked when she softly said, "Fix your key necklace around me, boy toy."

And where I might have once flushed, I smiled and kissed her forehead in a way I knew she loved, then obediently fixed the chain around her neck, carefully placing it just so. "Yes, Mistress."

Her eyes had that fire in them and she was a flirt like before where we talked endlessly about the fantasy movie she had been so excited to see, where we talked about the rest of the movies in the series. There were a fair few highlights much like before, things like when she cut off a piece of the sandwich she liked and lifted it to my lips for me to try, while I met her gaze, a moment that felt like bowing to get her keys all over again when I couldn't keep from lowering my eyes with the sensation of her feeding me. It made me miss the puppy mask in some dark way, made me have fantasies of curling up with a leather harness while she fed me in humiliating ways.

Her smile was wicked when I lifted my gaze back to hers, swallowing the food she'd given me. "Good, right?"

At that point, I was forced to admit that I was saying the words any chance I got, just to say them. "Yes, Mistress."

But that's not where it truly got interesting with the rest of the way it went. No, see, it got interesting when I was flirting with her. "So, games and epic fantasies, Mistress?"

She laughed. "Don't tell anyone. Being kind of nerdy about fangirl choices makes me seem too human. But I might have gone to the Ariana Grande Rift Tour in Fortnite. And I might be a big fan of a certain series with a character named Anomander Rake."

I froze, then laughed, when that last reference was a truly nerdy one. "I bought the Lebron James skin, to be fair. But did you know the reason why Malazan was as large scale of an epic as it turned out to be was because it was originally an RPG world?"

"I did not." She leaned forward, her eyes excited in that way she'd had when I'd bought her the Arctic Fox stuffed animal. It was that look that I treasured when it felt like seeing my Mistress without her mask, even as lovely as her mask was. "But that makes sense when Gardens of the Moon just throws you into the story and hopes you can keep up with a learning curve steeper than a ski slope."

I burst into laughter and her eyes were shining in playfulness. But that was when her gaze turned... different. It wasn't a bad kind of difference, either, at least not to me. It wasn't particularly negative in its appearance, not at all. Although, I suppose to someone else who tried to date her, it might come across as negative or guarded and I could see where it would easily come across that way.

For me, it was merely a look that came with the control she had that I loved so much already. I bowed my head, taking a drink of the water she had ordered for me, waiting with a sense of heightened arousal for what might come next, wondering how the puzzle pieces might fall, what image they might shape of my relationship with her when she was so fascinating to me to begin with.

It wasn't that night when I got my answer. It was two nights later actually after she called me when I was at work. I answered with a sense of thrill, glancing out the window of my office with that sense of dirty exhibitionism that came from writing my stories for some reason. "Good afternoon, Mistress." Manners felt like an innate thing when I wore her key to my cock cage around my neck and felt under control no matter where I was these days.

"Good evening, little boy toy." And that. God, I loved being called that. It felt degrading in this caring way, affectionate and humiliating in a blend. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing at all so far, Mistress." But my blood was starting to turn to fire with the question. The crackling desire that I was becoming frighteningly accustomed to across my skin wasn't nearly so bad when she had just let me have orgasm so recently. The other frightening thought about that? I was kind of... used to and okay with my orgasms being such a rarity, somehow. I didn't know how it was so easy and seamless for me to be wildly okay with that fact. I only knew that it had something to do with that sensation of pleasure at Christopher's knees, one that wasn't something to do with sex. It had to do with the heavy sensation of the cage that felt like being cradled, in that oh, so perfect wording that Mistress had used to describe it.

Her voice was soft with temptation in my ear, my personal snake with a desire that gave me conflict, a desire that felt like it was about to break me. And if she were a snake, I pictured her as a King Cobra, beautiful, lethal, and graceful all in one. "Want to come over and try something new? You should probably check your courage for it."

I smiled at my desk, suddenly thinking that my day had seemed a bit... boring. Odd, when I had never had a problem with boring, but now with her invitation, I had a rush of fear that I rather enjoyed. "I can't say I'm known for being overly courageous, Mistress, but I want to try what pleases you."

"Come and play with me, then, little boy toy." I'd felt a sense of wild excitement when I left work, of fear and submissive energy. These days I always felt so close to that magical place where I could fly or drown and I didn't have a preference to which one she chose for me anymore. It was becoming that addictive in an all around sense. I know it sounds crazy, but I was starting to piece together that those moments of pleasing her were something of a cure all. For everything. If I had a rough day at work, where I felt like nothing I was doing was good enough, where my statistics and spreadsheets felt subpar when I was a perfectionist at how neat I could make them, I knew how to fix it. I could bow to her and know that what I was doing was good enough. I could be soothed with having a command given to me and following it, without having to question when she was so very clear with her pleasure or displeasure. Even if I was feeling low on a day, when everyone has those low days, I could find happiness in hearing her pleasure.