This particular little idea came up in the course of editing that really made me sit back and think. As a submissive, it’s a concept I understand very well. For instance, I may not like being gagged with a cock in the back of my throat, but if my Dom likes to throat-fuck me, then I will do it.
The excerpt below started a conversation that surprised me. When my content editor went through it, she made a comment when Kyle talks about pain he doesn’t like, asking why he doesn’t use his safeword.
To understand this, it might help to understand one concept that many people not part of the lifestyle don’t: the difference between hurting and harming. We are often hurt during the course of our service when engaging in BDSM play. Especially pain play. However, hurting someone does not necessarily cause harm—i.e., lasting damage either physical or emotional/mental.
If I am not being harmed, if nothing is otherwise wrong (like muscle cramps or something like that) and my Dom/play partner hasn’t violated my hard limits, I am not going to call my safeword. I’m going to keep going to the best of my ability because I’m serving—and I get a different kind of fulfillment out of it than I do in receiving pain.
* * *
I whined as I strained to hold back my orgasm. Somewhere in there, my whines turned into pleas for his pleasure instead of my own, much like the first night we’d been together. “Come, Master! Please come!”
With a roar, Master thrust hard, burying himself balls-deep in my ass. His cock twitched hard, and I could have sworn I felt the hot flood of his cum inside me.
That was all it took. Without permission, with my own near scream, I lost it. The pleasure hit me harder than I’d ever felt before. I shook in Master’s arms, muscles clenching around the thick length still deep inside me as the climax screamed through me. The intense orgasm yanked my cum from my desperate balls, spraying over his hand, my legs, and the counter.
I slumped forward, holding on to the bar by sheer force of will. I gasped in air as Master continued to stroke my oversensitive cock. I whined, trying to move away from it, but he held me anchored to him. With his cock still firmly buried in my ass and his arm like a steel band around my waist, I could go nowhere.
“Oh no, boy. I want your cries,” he said, chuckling darkly.
I gave them, unable not to, as he continued stimulating me. “Please, Master!” I groaned, but he ignored it. His hand moved faster, tightened a bit more, and I sobbed as the pain in my cock—pain I didn’t like—grew. I begged with incoherent sounds, but he kept going for another few moments.
“You can take this for me, boy, I know you can,” Master murmured in my ear.
And he was right. I wanted to take this, I wanted to do this for him, show him I was able to serve him even when it was something I didn’t like. The knowledge that I was pleasing him thrilled the submissive in me. I still gave him my grunts—it was painful—but I bore it much better with that realization.
When he finally let go of my tormented cock, I realized, oversensitive or not, I was still hard—very hard. He slid that hand down to my balls and cupped them, massaging them. “I bet there’s another load in here, now, isn’t there, boy? Balls nice and full, hmm? Bet if I carry you upstairs and pound this ass more, I’ll get you to spray that new load, won’t I?”
I had no idea for sure, but his words alone were arousing me all over again, making me moan.
* * *
If Kyle can get past his fears, he could see what his beloved Master Mal does: a beautiful boy that deserves his collar–and heart.
Malcolm Tate hung up his flogger when his submissive sought out another Dom and landed in the hands of a serial killer. Convinced his lack of dominance sent his sub away, Mal has spent two years blaming himself for what happened. But when his best friend finally convinces him to go back to the local dungeon, Mal’s grateful. Especially when he wins beautiful, submissive, firmly-closeted Kyle Bingham in a charity slave auction.
College grad Kyle hasn’t earned enough to move out of the loft his conservative, homophobic parents bought, much less to buy any of the other things still in their name. When he’s won at auction by the hot, amazing Mal, he’s shocked that anyone would want him. No one else seemed to—not his parents, his former Doms, or any of his disastrous dates.
But Mal does want him and Kyle lets his guard down, only to be outed to his parents. With his world crashing down, he must find a way to trust Mal—and their developing relationship—or risk losing everything.
* * *
Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.
A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.
As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.
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