It wasn’t purely sadistic perversion, Yassen had told him. It had a purpose. And if anyone needed to learn a little self-control, fourteen-year-old boys should be the first in line.
Alex had snapped that Yassen was full of shit, and those were the last words he spoke before a strip of duct tape had sealed his lips shut. That must have been at least four hours ago. Alex didn’t want to think about how badly it was going to hurt when that thing was ripped off. If it didn’t take his lips with it, it’d be a fucking miracle.
But the duct tape was the least of his concerns at the moment. There was the matter of the rope, too. Nylon, bright red, the nice stuff. Yards of it were woven all across Alex’s body—some points more strategic than others—but the lengths binding his arms were torturous. His shoulders had started to hurt thirty minutes into it, and that felt like a million years ago. Now everything hurt. His neck, his back, his legs . . . his swollen cock, his aching balls, his sore little asshole.
Alex inhaled sharply and moaned behind the duct tape when he felt the vibrations start again. They went off every fifteen minutes and lasted about five, just long enough to get him hard again without getting him off. This was number sixteen or seventeen. Apparently this particular brand of butt plug had come with an interval setting and was designed to torture its victim. Alex was willing to bet it had been used in the Spanish Inquisition, and he hated it more vehemently than what was actually being done to him. It was too large, for one thing, at least three inches at the widest part and two at the smallest, and it was too short, for another. It only barely grazed his prostate, and earlier Alex had gotten so frustrated at the device’s failure to stimulate him that he’d started to cry.
Crying while gagged is a huge mistake, and Alex found that out the moment his nose had stuffed up and he couldn’t breathe. He’d been forced to calm down and swallow his tears, and after a little while he could breathe again. Yassen had been so proud of him.
“See? You’re learning,” he’d murmured, stroking Alex’s head like he would a housecat’s. “That’s good. You need to learn to control your emotions.”
Alex hoped for Yassen’s sake that he was learning to control his emotions—otherwise he was going to fucking kill the bastard once this “training session” was over. This was humiliating. Suspended ten inches above the floor by a web of ropes, his legs cuffed at the ankle and held wide open by a long aluminum bar, his arms tied behind his back, and that fucking vibrator in his ass . . .
Alex had plenty of time to stew and boil and become exhausted by his anger. He’d given up sometime in the last hour, and now all he wanted was to be set down on his feet again and untied so he could give himself the release he needed. He’d be damned if he let Yassen touch him after this.
But touching Alex seemed to be exactly what Yassen had in mind, and there wasn’t anything Alex could do about it when he was still bound and hanging with his legs spread apart, and at just the perfect height for Yassen to comfortably molest him.
The plug had stopped vibrating only a few minutes ago, and Alex was still hard and oozing when Yassen sauntered through the door and strode up to him, admiring and appraising him without a word, like this was some kind of perverse art show and Alex was the main display.
“Time is almost up,” Yassen said, trailing his hand down Alex’s smooth back and giving an appreciative squeeze to one warm buttock.
Alex flinched momentarily, but aside from that, he remained impassive, staring straight ahead, determined to show no hint of his desperation.
Yassen studied the side of the boy’s face. “Are you still angry with me?”
Alex shook his head as best he could. “Mm,” he mumbled.
Yassen’s hand crawled down Alex’s cleft and rubbed at the exposed base of the butt plug. “You’ve done very well . . . for your first time. I was pleasantly surprised.” He abruptly pressed the toy deeper into Alex’s ass.
If it had been vibrating, Alex was sure he would have come right then and there. Instead he grunted deep in his throat and hated his body for responding so eagerly. His cock strained even harder, and he felt a rivulet of pre-come dribble down the underside and onto his scrotum. God, he needed to get off so badly . . .
Yassen grinned and began to nudge the plug around, gently and teasingly. “Relax, Alex. Enjoy it. You’re almost finished.”
Alex didn’t want to enjoy it—he never would—but he desperately needed the release. The human body could only take so much, and he’d had been at the jumping-off-point for the past four hours. He was going to lose his bloody mind if he didn’t orgasm soon.
His whole body jolted with shock when he felt Yassen suddenly pull the plug from his body. The pain was brief, a mere flash, and then Alex was aware of his emptiness, of the cold air. His hole was pink and sore-looking, stretched wide from hours spent wrapped around the plug. Despite the agonizing discomfort he’d endured, the maddening arousal and the murderous teasing, Alex suddenly wanted it back inside him. If Yassen would just put it—or something, anything—in him again . . .
But the Russian had other plans. Tossing the toy to the floor, he walked around to face Alex. They were precisely eye level with one another. Alex scowled at Yassen as bravely as he could.
“You miss it already, don’t you,” said Yassen sympathetically, his eyes roaming over Alex’s face, searching for clues to the boy’s thoughts. “You feel empty without it.”
In his peripheral vision Alex saw Yassen begin to unbutton his fly. He kept his eyes on the man’s face, glaring, forcing himself not to look as Yassen pulled out his thick, heavy cock. He moved forward and gently, ever so carefully, pulled the strip of duct tape off of Alex’s mouth.
“I can help you fill that emptiness, Alex. Just say the word and I will do it.”
Alex glowered at Yassen hatefully. He’d rather die than say one word to this psychotic pervert, though he would have loved to tell Yassen to go to hell right about now. No. There was no way Yassen was going to get anything else from Alex tonight. He could just go fuck himself.
Oddly, Yassen appeared to be pleased at the silence. “Stubborn,” he smirked, stroking Alex’s flushed cheek with his fingers. “I’m surprised that your pride has not yet been broken.”
His hand slipped down Alex’s throat, over his chest, and tugged on Alex’s right nipple, pulling it as far as his flesh would allow. Alex’s eyes watered, but he pressed his lips together and suffered silently.
“Pride is a liability, Alex,” Yassen murmured, twisting the boy’s nipple until he was forced to shut his eyes. “The sooner you lose it, the safer you will be.” Finally, mercifully, he let go.
Alex released a trembling breath. His nipple was tender and red, sore from the abuse. He had little time to recover before Yassen went for the other one.
“Don’t let your pride torture you, Alex,” he said, pulling on the other nipple painfully. “Your mistakes will do that for you, I can assure you . . . Unless, perhaps, you find this enjoyable. Do you find this enjoyable, Alex?”
Alex shook his head firmly. Yassen gave one last tweak and let go. His hand began to move lower, down Alex’s chest. Alex was so worked up, so tight and tense with arousal, that his stomach muscles shuddered when Yassen’s hand passed over his belly.
Yassen grinned a little. “You have been ready for a long time. I won’t make you wait anymore, Alex. But I need your word first.”
Alex fought the impulse to giggle as Yassen’s finger slid down his inner thigh. He was so ticklish there, God help him if Yassen decided to use that as another method of torture. Thankfully the Russian moved on, reaching up underneath Alex and circling his sore pink hole with one finger. He moved in closer, his clothes rough against Alex’s bare, over-sensitized skin. Alex could feel the warmth of Yassen’s face so close to his own, smell his hair and his cologne, see every individual eyelash, every fleck in his blue eyes.
God, he hated this man so much, but he wanted him just as badly. He wanted that cock, that big red Russian cock, inside him. He wanted to feel it slide in and hit the spot, stretch him wide open, pound into him, fill him up—
Alex groaned quietly and cursed himself for thinking those thoughts. He felt his cock graze Yassen’s, all hot and large and just waiting there for his command, and then Yassen’s finger slipped into Alex’s ass, so grossly inadequate. Alex needed something bigger, something longer, something that would just—fucking hell, he needed to come so, so bad . . .
“Let go of your pride, Little Alex,” Yassen murmured in the boy’s ear, rubbing his finger inside Alex’s warm, wide passage. “It will be so much better when you do. You will see.”
Alex bit his lip and wanted to die. His body couldn’t take this anymore and his mind was T-minus one minute from a massive aneurysm; he was so confused he felt like crying. What was worse, crying like a baby in front of one’s tormentor, or saying yes and getting all this shit over with? It wouldn’t last long—a minute or two at the most—and then Alex would finally be able to think again, to hate Yassen properly and not want his cock anymore. One minute. Then it would all be over. Just one tiny minute . . .
“Say it, Alex,” Yassen whispered, nuzzling Alex’s neck. “You can tell me.”
Alex blinked and tears spilled down his cheeks. His chin trembled as he opened his mouth. “P-please,” he croaked.
Yassen immediately let go and stepped away. For one horrified second Alex’s heart sank, then Yassen was standing behind him and holding Alex’s narrow hips in his large hands. He jerked Alex toward him, and Alex felt that long, hot erection thrust between his legs, searching for entry. Oh, God, thank God, finally—
Alex been stretched so wide for so long that Yassen was able to slip right inside, and just like that, they were fucking. Yassen lifted Alex up so that the ropes hanging him from the ceiling went slack, and he shoved his cock in deep, beginning a slow, rolling rhythm of in and out. Alex gasped and arched his back, grinding against Yassen, wanton and shameless.
He hated the man, but God, did he love his cock.
“Ah, Alex,” Yassen muttered. “Such a good boy. Yes, such a sweet little boy . . .”
Alex moaned when Yassen’s length stabbed into his prostate, and all his muscles went rigid. He clenched his fists and felt that ache coalescing in his groin, and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer . . .
Yassen laid his head against the nape of Alex’s neck, watching his erection slide in and out of Alex’s tight, sore little hole. “Come for me, Alex,” he grunted. “Be my little boy.”
And, oh God, Alex did just that. Every muscle in his body went suddenly loose and he was coming. And coming. And coming. He came so hard it hurt his balls, so hard that all he could do was scream and come and slam himself deeper onto Yassen’s cock. Semen spattered onto the floor and dripped from Alex’s softening penis. He went limp, shuddering in the aftershocks.
Yassen plowed into Alex’s ass with all his might, and then Alex felt a spurt inside of him and knew that it was finally over. Yassen caught his breath and pulled out, and warm come leaked from Alex’s body and ran down his legs. Alex hung his head, utterly spent, not caring if Yassen left him hanging here all night. The worst was over. He could take anything now. Fuck, he was so tired . . .
Alex was only vaguely aware of Yassen grabbing him about the waist and taking him down. He leaned his head against the man’s shoulder like a child as he was carried away and laid down on a cool, soft bed. He kept his eyes shut, pretending to be sleepier than he actually was, and watched between the dark fuzz of his eyelashes as Yassen removed the rest of the restraints. Tossing them aside, he drew the covers over Alex’s nude body and tucked him in—as if he’d done this a million times before. He combed the boy’s blond hair until it lay smooth on his head, and then reached over and turned out the lights.
As much as Alex hated to admit it, Yassen was right. Letting go of his pride did make everything so much better.
He wondered what else Yassen was going to teach him to let go of.