Deliver Us (23 page)

“NO!” Kyle screams. He dives in front of the truck’s front end, using his body as a barrier, curling himself over the hood. “You’ll have to run me over first. You can’t leave me! I need you, Ben! I need YOU. You have to believe me! I’m telling the truth now! I love you too, okay? It’s just so fucking hard to say it to you like this because it feels like I’m ripping my goddamned heart out of my chest for you. I’m not saying it to get anything, I just MEAN it. And
I’M SORRY
. Please! Please! Don’t do this to me!
PLEASE
!”

Ben actually revs the engine once, foot still firmly on the brake. Thinking in that moment that Ben really is going to hit him with his truck, it scares Kyle so badly that he retches. Stumbling backward and doubling over, he throws up his three cups of coffee and the remnants of the pills and booze out onto the road in front of Ben’s truck. Curling up in a ball, kneeling there, Kyle prepares himself for the impact. He’s got nothing left to lose.

When the engine shuts off, he’s confused.

There’s the creaking sound of the driver’s side door opening. Kyle scrambles to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeved arm.

Ben appears in front of him and Kyle falls into his arms, hiding his face against the side of Ben’s neck, wrecked and whimpering weakly with thick tears.

“I forgive you,” Ben whispers to him and kisses his hair, hugging him close.

Kyle clutches to him, making small noises, shaken to the core.

After a shower and brushing his teeth about fifteen times, Kyle reappears in the bedroom where Ben is sprawled on the bed, ankles crossed and hands laced behind his head.

“That was my punishment, huh?” Kyle mutters, tiredly. “I didn’t like it. You scared the fuck out of me.”

Sitting perched on the edge of the bed, he holds his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees, and groans.

“You aren’t supposed to like it, babe,” Ben tells him. “Think of it as another way I needed to sober you up.”

He sits up and palms the pair of leather handcuffs nearby. Looping an arm around Kyle, he draws him backward and up the bed, kissing over his neck.

“Would you really have left me?” Kyle asks a little fearfully as he lays back. Ben pushes the pillows away and starts to draw Kyle’s hands above his head.

“Yeah, I would. If that’s what it took. If that was the right thing to do.”

Watching as Ben fits the leather around his wrists, enjoying how it holds them flush together, restricting him, putting him at Ben’s mercy, Kyle relaxes for the first time all day.

This is going to happen, Kyle realizes. He’s going to get to have this. And this time, it’s not a game at all. This time it’s all real—just him and Ben, his Master. His heart beats faster and he clears his throat, shifting a little on the bed as his whole body starts to jitter with desire and the most delicious and familiar sort of fear.

Ben smiles as, gradually, the tension in Kyle’s body grows noticeably, even as his face softens and the worry lines disappear. Pulling Kyle’s hands up tight, fully extending his arms, he affixes the cuffs to the headboard.

Glancing down, he sees how aroused Kyle is getting, at his thin cotton pajama pants tenting in the front. Brushing his palm feather-light over the erection, Ben watches Kyle arch his back, pushing up against the hand, head thrown back and eyes shut.

“You want this so bad, don’t you, kitty?” Ben laughs darkly.

“Shit, yeah. Please, Master? Play with me?”

Smoky blue eyes wide and innocent, gaze up at him from between arms bound tightly in the leather, begging shamelessly for whatever Ben wants to give him; the words go straight to his dick.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me with how stupidly sexy you are,” Ben groans, catching Kyle’s lips in a kiss before commanding him, “Turn the fuck over. On your belly.”

Kyle wriggles over, turning his face to the side as he breathes hot against his arm.

Ben moves away. It’s a sign that it’s starting, that it’s
happening
, and Kyle can’t contain his need. It dizzies him—every inch of flesh, every nerve ending in his body tingling with anticipation, ready to explode at the slightest touch or sensation.

He hears a length of tape get unwound and ripped from the roll. Ben stretches it across Kyle’s eyes and presses it tightly down, blinding him.

“Mmm... what are you gonna... do to me, sir?”

“It’s a surprise,” Ben lilts, laughing as he pulls Kyle’s legs straight, holding them together as he fastens ankle cuffs to them and then attaches the cuffs to the footboard. Kyle is stretched out in a line on the mattress, pulled tightly enough at either end that he can’t move much at all, can’t even thrust his hips or wriggle away.

Another piece of tape is ripped off and this one goes over his mouth, keeping him quiet. His dick is painfully erect now, squeezed by the weight of his body against the mattress. Testing the give, he finds he can’t move, can’t relieve the pressure in his balls and get off. It’s perfect. It’s just how he likes it. Even if it’s just this, and Ben leaves him like this all night, if Ben just watches him, and lets Kyle
know
he’s being watched, it would be enough.

He’s still wearing pants and he wonders why, until he feels Ben slowly ease them down to mid-thigh, baring the curve of his ass. It makes Kyle feel more exposed, somehow, than if he was simply naked, and he moans behind the gag. The sound chokes off as Ben breaches him suddenly with a dry finger down to the last knuckle. His body automatically clenches up around it and his inner muscles squeeze tight as Ben crooks the finger and digs deep. He’s still not used to this, even after almost two years as Ben’s submissive. It feels foreign and startling, and the utter violation of it disturbs him on a base level.

“You breathing, kitty?” Ben asks knowingly, stroking over Kyle’s silky-soft inner walls. “Relax.”

The held breath is let out all at once through his nose, loudly, before he sucks back in a lungful of oxygen and focuses on breathing regularly and unclenching.

“We’ve gotta get you past these issues, Kyle. I’ve got you. Okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” he nods.

Angling his wrist, Ben curls the finger and rubs deliberately over Kyle’s prostate in a steady, gentle rhythm.

He moans through the gag. It turns into a whimper as his hips twitch and snap against the bed with nowhere to go, no way to escape. All he can do is twist to the side, and even then Ben just follows the movement, not relenting or easing up. The whimper breaks and turns into a small mewling purr, the very sound that earned Kyle his nickname months and months ago.

“You know I love it when you do that, kitty. Gonna be my kitten? Gonna purr for me?”

He keeps fingering the sweet spot, and as the sensations overload in Kyle, the pressure builds even more. The purrs become desperate. Ben imagines the pre-come that must be milking from Kyle’s cock and decides he has to check, has to
know
, so he forces his other hand between Kyle’s belly and the bed. It slips into the slickness pooling near the head of his cock.

“God, you’re so wet, kitten. You made a mess of the bed. I think you’re a bad, bad, kitty,” he teases as more spunk seeps out onto his hand. Shifting his hand with effort, he closes his fingers around the throbbing member; his index finger and thumb grip around the sensitive, spongy head, and his thumb presses right at the bundle of nerves under the ridge as he starts to squeeze.

The purrs turn to whines of pain. Kyle is trapped between the finger entering him from behind, and the hand squeezing and pulling at his dick. He bucks and wriggles with renewed force, but knows it’s useless. He rides it out, lets it wash over him, and good fucking
god
does it hurt. It hurts and it feels horribly, unbearably good all at the same time. The ecstasy goes on and on and then, all at once, stops.

The finger withdraws. The hand slides away. He waits for the feeling of Ben wiping his soiled hand off on him, sure that he’ll do it.

He doesn’t.

Then there’s a small, satisfied moan from Ben as he says, “Mmm... god, you taste good, kitten. Makes me want to lick your dick clean like I just licked my hand clean. Wanna lap up that milky-white jizz and suck every drop off of you.”

Kyle groans loudly, the sound vibrating through his chest, and he just wants that so badly. It would be amazing, especially if it was
Ben
doing it, but he knows it’s not going to happen, that it’s a tease. But at least it’s a good tease.

There’s the soft, padding sound of footsteps receding, of Ben walking away, and Kyle realizes that he
is
leaving him there. Ben is leaving him half-spent, nerves jangling and firing, cock rock-hard, ass throbbing from the slight burn left by Ben’s dry finger.

An untold amount of time later, Ben reappears. Kyle hears the soft footsteps again on the carpeting, notes the dip and shift of weight on the bed as Ben climbs on and straddles his legs, sitting down on them, restraining him even more.

He doesn’t say a word. Ben just sits there, watching Kyle listen to him, watching his ribs expand and contract with each breath.

Grabbing the round globes of Kyle’s ass cheeks, one in each hand, he spreads him wide, watches his pink hole twitch, knowing well that it bothers Kyle to be observed like this. There have been countless sessions with him where the only thing Ben did to him was expose him in this way. And whether it was just the two of them, or it was the two of them and one of Ben’s assistants, or even during the streaming videos with untold numbers of people watching, it always has done things to Kyle and set him on edge more than anything else in Ben’s arsenal. He makes a mental note to try using a speculum on him soon.

Keeping him spread, he presses his thumbs at the hole, pulling it open. As just the tips of them dip inside, prying him apart, Kyle cries out and snaps his hips. Then he shakes his ass from side to side, like he’s trying to throw Ben off.

Ben laughs mischievously.

“I haven’t even gotten to the good part,” he chuckles, adding sarcastically, “I’m sorry, is this making you uncomfortable?”

Kyle growls through the gag and Ben can tell he’s cursing him out. It amuses him immensely.

Adjusting his left hand, he keeps Kyle’s hole open with only those fingers and grabs an ice cube from the dish he’d brought up with him from the kitchen. Careful not to drip onto Kyle’s skin or touch him anywhere with it, not wanting to give any warning for what’s coming, Ben aligns it with his target and then quickly pushes it through the outer ring of muscles in Kyle’s anus and down into his rectum.

Kyle wails and cries out sharply as Ben chases the cube with two fingers, pushing it down as far as he can reach. Savoring each sound, each struggle, Ben plucks a second cube from the bowl. This one he takes more time with, now that Kyle knows what’s happening. He runs it up and down the crease of his ass, the heat of him quickly starting to melt it, before pushing it inside his opening as well. A third cube is forced deep as Kyle tries clenching his ass shut in an effort to stop Ben.

“Getting cold?” Ben asks solemnly.

“Mmfghh!” Kyle growls, his brow creased in anger. A hard shudder runs through his body and his fury slowly dies as his discomfort grows and grows.

The tight, hot walls of the inside of his body steadily melt the ice, but the burn from the cold stays. It hurts in a different way that anything else he’s ever experienced and it’s almost like he wants to jump right out of his skin to escape it. It’s unbearable. And as the ice warms, turning to water, it trickles even further into him. It’s like a slow, torturous enema.

Three more cubes are inserted into his body before he loses count altogether. He can feel himself crying, but the tears have nowhere to go because of the tape. Pooling over his eyelids, they find a weakness in the adhesive and trickle out, down his face.

To distract himself, he digs his fingernails into his hands. His ass feels so full. Ben keeps prodding into him with his fingers, and as the cubes farthest into him melt, slipping far down and getting lost in him. He just pushes the larger pieces into their place and keeps feeding more into his body.

It’s never going to stop. Ben’s just going to keep filling him with ice until he passes out or succumbs to hypothermia. Kyle is sure of it.

Kyle is resigning himself with noble stoicism to this hopelessly tragic fate when Ben’s weight is suddenly gone from his legs.

It’s a worrisome thing.

“Lift your hips, slave!” he barks.

It startles Kyle into obedience and he does it instantly. There’s a crumpling, rustling sound and then cold as what feels and sounds like plastic is slid under him.

That’s a worrisome thing as well.

“I’m going to turn you onto your side now,” Ben warns, “But you need to keep that tight little asshole clamped shut. Keep the water inside. Got it?”

Kyle whimpers but nods.

Then he’s being turned. As the air hits his dick and balls, now exposed, no longer hidden by his body, he starts to feel the suffocating tidal wave of panic drench him.

Knowing it’s useless, but unable to stop, he begs through the gag, wordlessly, mumbling and humming the sounds.

A hand circles his balls, cradling them, before another, holding more ice, closes down over them. The ice presses against his sac and Ben squeezes. The combination of freezing, burning, penetrating and terrible cold and crushing pressure causes him to scream shrilly. He tries to wriggle away, but loses his concentration and forgets to keep his ass shut tight. Some water dribbles down his crack, runs over his leg onto the plastic.

Ben doesn’t relent until the cubes are melted away. By the time they have, Kyle has fallen silent, has stopped moving, so Ben goes to his head and slaps his cheek.

“Hey!” he calls, “You with me?”

Kyle’s only response is a sighing exhale, so Ben rips off the tape on his mouth and eyes.

“Baby, look at me,” he urges, watching Kyle’s eyes roll. “Come on. Kyle? Hey! Kyle!”

“Ye-yeah...” he sighs, eyes still unfocused, starting to shiver. “So fucking cold.... We done already? It’s over?”