This is gay male non-consent with a good bit of bdsm. if it's not your thing, there are plenty of other stories on this kinky little site!
Lost In Hawaii 04
That spanking with the leather strap was pure hell. I shudder every time I think about it. It played in my dreams for weeks afterwards. It wasn't the pain, although youch! It was the humiliation. It was the moment Mitchell broke my shell open and began commanding my very being. Maybe one day I'll have the guts to tell all the dirty details.
Suffice it to say, I screamed. I cried and begged it to stop. I was a shivering, shaking mess at the end. He'd had to scoop me up and carry me upstairs to the living room. He held and petted me as I'd cried. I can't, maybe won't, tell you exactly what I'd cried about or why, but I had needed to let it all out.
I don't think Mitchell had ever spanked or hurt someone against their will, for the sole purpose of pain, and unable to really defend themselves. In his own way, he'd reacted just as violently as I had. Right after he'd finished delivering the worst whopping of my life, up to that point, he went and got violently ill. (Not that that excused his actions thus far.) I've been spanked worse since then and begged for more, but never for harm or destruction or to tear down. That episode hurt us both that night. If it ever happened that way again, we both knew our relationship would be irrevocably harmed. We'd never get passed it. And we didn't need to say it to each other. It was understood.
Afterwards he let me lay on the couch on my stomach while he finished dinner. The arnica cream had worked it's magic and the roar was down to a small, throbbing ache.
The baked lasagna smelled like heaven and garlic bread tempted my nose. I hadn't eaten since we landed and had burgers in the taxi. It was surreal to think this suck-ass day had started with me anticipating Hawaii while sitting in California.
I was already a slave by then and didn't even know it. The sneaky bastard had me cuffed and collared before I'd ever realized the significance. This was going to be my life now. Mitchell would never let me go. How could he? He knew I'd run straight to the police. My ass presently bore the marks of his abuse. He'd taken my life from me, taken responsibility for my life out of my own hands. But I was still left bearing the consequences of his actions.
"Baby, come on in here," my new Sir commanded from the kitchen. He'd chained my hands behind my back so I could lay flat on my stomach. It was a small mercy I had no hobble. My stiff and sore body needed all the help it could get.
The sight in the kitchen was almost enough to make me want to pitch a fit again. The subdued, but still slightly smug, bastard had a place setting for one and a pillow arranged right beside his chair. He just stared at me, daring me to make him tell me what to do. Waiting to see if I'd submit to the silent cue and kneel at Sir's feet. This bloody day was never going to end.
I stared at his feet as I slowly sank to my knees on the pillow. It took a while to figure out how far down I wanted my sore bum to be. It was hard not to whimper in pain at the slight pressure I did allow.
"Fuck, you look perfect kneeling at my feet," he sighed in pleasure. Gentle fingers tiled my chin up. My eyes closed as Sir brushed his lips over mine, slowly working his way up my jaw. "Hungry?"
"Yes, Sir," I said just loud enough to be heard by him.
A bite was lowered down to my lips. I sat and contemplated it for a while. This was totally unnecessary. I was perfectly capable of feeding myself. What did feeding me prove? Wasn't I kneeling here? Wasn't I sore because I had no choice but to submit?
"Come on, baby. Take a bite. It's really good."
"I can feed myself, Sir," I said sullenly.
"Ah, but that would displease me. As my sex slave your only job is to please me. This is the only way you're getting food. The only way you'll starve is if you refuse to eat from my hand."
He waited there, not eating either. The man had the patience of a saint when he went after something. I really was hungry. It had been a horrible day and spending the night hungry meant little to no sleep. There was no way in hell I'd be able to make a midnight run to the fridge. Sir, I thought the name sarcastically, probably had some brilliant plan to keep me in one spot tonight.
I shifted uncomfortably as I forced myself to submit to this idiocy. Couldn't he see that he was pushing me farther away by forcing this... what-ever-it-was... on me? I didn't want to be anywhere near the prick, let alone kneel at his feet or get fed by him.
"You'll get used to this. I promise," Sir said quietly as he took a bite then fed me another. I watched him concentrate on the food for awhile. Was he as scared as I was?
This bullshit gamble could backfire badly for him. I had no intention of forgetting today and with the right opportunity, I'd send his ass to jail.
My mom and sister would be furious, devastated, if they knew what he was doing to me. Yasmin would probably beat his ass bloody. She was one of the few people that probably could do it. He was betraying the trust of people that had loved him his whole life. And for what? To get laid? To have another notch on his belt? To conquer the one guy who'd said no to him? My mom had taught him to treat people with respect. He was slapping her and the love she'd given him. Mitchell deserved to be somebody's prison bitch. Hell, he'd probably like it.
"You look angry. Whatcha thinkin'?" he asked casually, like we were discussing the rain.
I chomped down angrily on the bite he held out. No way in hell was I answering that question. I was already in deep shit. It did not need to get deeper.
"Seriously. It's okay. Just be polite. Tell me what's on your mind. I'll listen."
I glared at him as words bubbled to the surface. It grated to have to choose so carefully, no longer able to stand up for myself. He sure as hell wasn't 'being polite'.
"I'm thinking about jail time for you. Wondering how long I can get them to put you way." He wanted honesty, he was going to get it.
A relieved smile cleared the clouds away from his brow. I couldn't believe it! I'd expected anger, not relief. Here I was trying to pick a fight and he was happy. The sand was unstable under my feet. I just couldn't get any firm footing with him.
"You said you take anything I threw at you. Keep on proving it, babe." Sir kissed me on the forehead and changed the subject. There was an annoying amount of pep in his voice. "I gave you a wide pillow to kneel on. From now on spread your knees when you kneel. I want to see my property, every inch of him."
I swallowed hard as he used his foot to push against my inner knee to the correct distance. I turned my head and stared at the ground as I adjusted to being so lewdly on display. Unfortunately, my cock kept twitching. It seemed to enjoy the peep show it was giving.
The top of Sir's foot caressed the bottom of my ball sack, making my undisciplined cock even happier. It was to damn easy for him to distract me. Pulling at the hand cuffs only reminded me of how vulnerable I really was.
"Please stop," I whispered uncomfortably. I didn't want to get hard as he fed me. I didn't want to spread my legs for him and enjoy his messaging foot. Sir ignored me. His gently insistent foot kept moving, touching. I loved the feel of his toes grazing my semi, encouraging it to stand up tall and proud for the man who'd mastered it.
He held another bite to my turned mouth. I took it in the hopes it would distract me. It didn't. Eating while being stroked just added to the sensual feel.
"You have a beautiful cock. Ever eat your own cum?"
I shook my head no and moaned as he gently pushed my now hard cock against my belly. His toes wiggled in some little pattern that felt like an invitation to fuck. My hips arched of their own accord into his foot. He held still, using his whole foot to cover me, balls to tip, as I ground up into it.
I was so ashamed of my lack of self-control, but that didn't stop me from trying to achieve orgasm by whatever means were available to me. His foot rolled over my cock in waves. I whimpered as I thrust harder, chasing my goal, praying he'd hold still one more minute. My cock was coating his foot in precum, making a fantastic surface to glide against.
