By His Rules (6 page)

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Aiden did.

“Did you touch yourself?” Scott whispered.

For a second, Aiden couldn’t remember how to

speak. “No, Sir.”

Scott reached around and pinched Aiden’s nipples.

Aiden arched his back.

“You had to think about it.”

Shit
. Why had he hesitated? “No, Sir. I mean—no, I

didn’t touch myself.”

Scott let go of Aiden’s tits, took his wrist in one

hand, and swatted his ass with the other. “Walk.”

They went to the kitchen. The tiles under Aiden’s

feet were even colder than the floorboards in the hall.

The room smelled faintly of whatever Scott had eaten for

dinner, and Aiden’s stomach growled again.

Scott directed him to a wall and pushed his head

forward until his lips touched a metal bar.

“Open up,” Scott said.

Aiden opened, and Scott pushed him forward

another inch so that the bar was in his mouth.

“Bite.”

Aiden did. The bar was cold and copper tasting.

Okay, we’re so not in Kansas anymore, Aiden thought.

Scott grabbed his hips and pulled so that Aiden’s

back sloped and his ass jutted out from the wall.

Scott placed a silk mask over Aiden’s eyes, then

cuffed his hands together behind his back. Now Aiden’s

position was extremely awkward—bent at the waist, ass

out, hands behind him, jaws around the bar.

Scott grabbed his nipples again, rolling and

squeezing them into stiff peaks. He put a clamp on the

right one, screwing it slowly tighter until Aiden’s breath

caught and he twisted involuntarily—then tighter still,

until every muscle in Aiden’s body tensed against the

pain.

Scott clamped his left tit with the same agonizing

slowness and flicked both clamps, sending shocks of

pain through Aiden’s body. Aiden was grateful to have

the bar to bite down on.

Scott attached something to the right clamp—a

chain, Aiden realized a moment later, when Scott let the

series of metal links fall from his fingers. The weight of

the chain jerked the clamp down, making Aiden gasp.

Scott picked up the loose end and attached it to the left

clamp, creating a slack arc that swung painfully if Aiden

moved at all.

Scott put his fingers in the U of chain and applied a

steady downward pressure. Aiden whimpered as his

nipples were stretched. He tried to move his torso

downward to alleviate the pressure, but he couldn’t

without releasing the bar. He moaned his frustration. The

pain stopped.

He heard Scott’s footsteps move away, then the

sound of the refrigerator opening. Plastic rustled. The

fridge closed. Aiden shifted his weight, nervous. He

heard a drawer open, and then the sound of Scott cutting

something on a board. Then a—vegetable peeler? It

sounded like Scott was peeling a potato. Again the knife

slammed the cutting board; then there was a familiar

smell in the air that Aiden couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Aiden recognized the smell from the restaurant. It

was something that went in the steak teriyaki. Scott

approached him, taking a position just behind and to the

left of Aiden. He placed a hand on Aiden’s hip. Aiden

jumped.

“Did you touch yourself?” Scott asked again. His

voice was deceptively casual.

Aiden couldn’t back down now. He’d already

insisted twice that he hadn’t. If he stuck to his story, there

was no way Scott could
prove
he’d broken the rule. He

shook his head as best he could with the bar in his

mouth.

“Let go of the bar,” Scott said, “and answer me. Did

you touch yourself, Shithead, between last Monday and

tonight? Did you take hold of your worthless little cock

and jerk yourself while you thought about me? Did you

come?”

Aiden let go of the bar. “No, Sir,” he said as firmly

as he could manage.

Scott removed his hand from Aiden’s hip. “Bite

down on the bar again.”

The smell of whatever Scott had cut was

overwhelming, and Aiden wished he could figure out

what it was. He didn’t have much time to wonder. Scott

spread his cheeks with one hand and, with the other,

forced something wet and cool into his entrance.

For a second, Aiden felt nothing. Whatever the

object was, it was small, and aside from its odd, moist

texture, there was nothing uncomfortable about it. Then

slowly a fire began in his asshole, spreading through his

body, making him jerk and writhe. He pulled against the

handcuffs and ground his teeth against the steel bar. The

burning sensation grew so intense that he felt nauseated.

He stamped, arched, twisted—anything to lessen the

burn. Scott held the object in place, then began moving it

in and out slightly.

Tears sprang to Aiden’s eyes. Every time he moved

to try to get away from the fire in his asshole, the chain

between his nipples swung, pulling his swollen tits.

“Gingerroot,” Scott said conversationally. “Burns,

doesn’t it?”

Aiden shifted from one foot to the other as Scott

continued to fuck him with the piece of root. He didn’t

recognize the noises he was making; they were animal

sounds, beyond his control.

“This is called figging,” Scott explained. “It’s a

technique they used to use on show horses, to keep their

tails raised and make them lift their legs higher.”

Aiden clenched his ass around the gingerroot,

which only made the sensation stronger. He tried not to

throw up. Scott slipped the root out, but the burn

remained.

“Did you touch yourself?” Scott asked again.

Aiden bit down on the bar until the burn was

manageable. Then he raised his head and answered, “No

Sir.”

“You’re a stubborn little boy, aren’t you?” Scott

said. “You like to do things the hard way.”

Aiden bit back a sob and shifted onto the balls of

his feet.

“Well, we’ve got all night. And if that’s how long it

takes for me to get the truth out of you, so be it.”

He swatted Aiden’s dancing ass so hard that Aiden

momentarily forgot about the burn.

“Hold still.”

Scott slid the piece of root into Aiden’s ass and left

it there, then went back to the cutting board and sliced a

fresh piece. Aiden almost released the bar so he could

beg for mercy, but the sting was starting to lessen, as

though his body was so full of pain he couldn’t process

anymore. Maybe if he acted as though it was still terrible,

Scott wouldn’t do anything worse, and Aiden would win

this battle. He let out an experimental whimper.

Scott stood directly beside him this time, not

behind him. He stroked Aiden’s cheek. “Poor boy.

You’re going to be so sore when I fuck you later.” He

brushed away the tears that had escaped from under

Aiden’s blindfold. “You see, I don’t believe for a second

that you didn’t touch your cock.” He took Aiden’s cock—

soft and curled from the pain—in his hand. Immediately

it twitched to life. Traitor! Aiden thought, squeezing his

eyes shut. “I think you touched yourself. I think you

came. I think you’re lying to me.” Scott brushed his

thumb over Aiden’s slit, and Aiden gasped. “I don’t

think you can keep your hands off your cock—but you’re

going to learn to. Maybe your little penis is the best way

to get a message to your brain. You
don’t. Lie. To me
.”

Scott took the fresh piece of gingerroot and pressed

it to the head of Aiden’s cock, grinding it against the slit.

Aiden’s hips jerked involuntarily as the acid sting

flooded him. His tears came hot and fast, and he bit the

bar so hard he thought his teeth would break. Scott

rubbed the root back and forth mercilessly, abrading the

tender skin and letting the burning juice seep into the

raw spots. Aiden’s attempt to escape reawakened the

pain in his ass and made the chain pull at his tits. He let

go of the bar, straightened up, and the words poured out

of him without thought or logic: “Please, Sir, please stop.

Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please, please don’t… ”

He staggered backward and tripped over a chair.

He started to fall, unable to use his hands to catch

himself.

Strong arms grabbed him, set him upright. He

stood in the middle of the floor, blind, cowering, ass

burning, crying. Scott didn’t touch him, didn’t speak for a

while, just let Aiden stand there, exposed and

humiliated.

“What are you sorry for?” Scott asked quietly.

“I-I lied. I did touch myself.”

“I see.”

Aiden couldn’t bear the silence. “Only once. Last

week. Only once and then never again after that.” He

couldn’t stop his tears. He was disappointed in himself

for lacking the self-control to keep his hands off himself,

for lying to his master, and now for breaking down.

“Did I say ‘touch yourself only once, and then never

again’?” Scott asked.

Aiden shook his head. He wished he could wipe

his nose. Instead he had to let it drip onto his lips, his

chest. “No, Sir.”

Scott moved in close to him, cupped a hand around

the back of Aiden’s head, and said in his ear, “I said

don’t touch yourself, Shithead. Period. One simple rule

for you to follow in my absence.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Aiden repeated miserably. The

ginger still burned dully in his ass, reminding him what

a disgrace he was as a sub.

Scott yanked the blindfold off. Aiden caught a

glimpse of dark eyes and a hard, angry mouth. Aiden

dropped his gaze to the floor, wishing he could

disappear. He hadn’t even begun his training yet, and

he’d already screwed up.

Scott removed the nipple clamps and the wrist

cuffs. “Bend over.”

Aiden did.

Scott plucked the gingerroot out of his ass and gave

Aiden a swat. “Go clean yourself up. Kneel in the

bedroom when you’re done and wait for me.”

Aiden fled the room, glad for the chance to pull

himself together. He got into the shower and washed

himself thoroughly, making sure to shave the stubble on

his groin. He tried to rinse the last of the burn from his

asshole. When he got out of the shower, he felt a little

better. He’d fucked up, but he would do better the rest of

the night.

He looked in the mirror. His tits were bluish red

and puffy, but he liked the reminder of who he belonged

to. His eyes were less swollen now. He breathed in and

watched his ribs appear as his stomach contracted. He no

longer felt hungry.

For some reason, Aiden thought about Keaton

Hughes, the man with the notebook at Obey. He

wondered what kind of top Keaton was. If Keaton would

enjoy the sight of Aiden, bruised and humiliated, eager

and compliant. Aiden folded his towel, placed it on the

toilet tank, and left the bathroom.

The bedroom was warm. He knelt in the center of

the room, legs spread. Scott entered a moment later.

“Stand up,” Scott said.

Aiden did, keeping his gaze on the floor. Scott

approached with the nipple clamps, and Aiden closed

his eyes as the clamps bit into his already sore flesh. He

winced as Scott tightened the second clamp, then

immediately chastised himself.
You deserve this.

Scott unclipped the chain on one side, pulled it taut

across Aiden’s chest, and refastened it. Aiden’s nipples

were now drawn toward each other. A whimper of agony

caught in his throat as he tried to move and felt the

tension in the chain. Scott grabbed his jaw.

“You still think this is a game,” Scott said. “When I

give you rules, you follow them. Whether or not I am

present to enforce them.” He plucked the chain between

Aiden’s tits as if it was a guitar string.

Aiden yelped and doubled over.

“Is that clear?”

Aiden forced himself to straighten up. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Get on the bed. On your back.”

Aiden obeyed.

Scott undressed and knelt between Aiden’s legs.

“I’m going to fuck your tits,” Scott explained. “Then later

I’ll fuck your ass and your mouth. And you’re going to

take it all, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Scott took hold of Aiden’s ankles and pulled him

farther down the bed. Aiden winced as the movement

made the chain vibrate. Scott held himself over Aiden