Nightmare Messiah

Tuesday

Day Two

         Gage forgot to set the alarm clock. By the time he made it up into his room he had even forgotten about the desire to smoke a cigarette. He took a quick glance around the room an realized it was more like a small apartment than an actual bedroom. He closed the door behind him and let out a long-suffering sigh. Then he opened his eyes and looked around at the space he’d be calling home for the next seven days.
         The first thing he saw was a small sitting area. There was a couch directly across from the door, an armchair, a coffee table, and a chaise lounge. The material of the furniture looked like it might be velvet, a rich milk chocolate color with dark mahagony feet that spiraled down into decorative claws that clutched wooden globes. There was a coffee table centered amongst the furniture that matched the wood on the underside of plush velvet. Directly across the room, behind the armchair, there were large bay windows that had a cushioned seat looking out over the forest that surrounded the house. To the right, there were glass double doors that lead out onto the terrace as Gideon had mentioned. Two dark wood doors stood open to the left, and those lead into the bedroom.
         He pushed away from the door and headed in that direction. He noticed a small cabinet in the sitting room, as Gideon had called it, that was likely the wetbar the man had also spoken of. The bedroom was big enough to be a second sitting room all its own. There were two more armchairs like the first in that room. They were nestled into the corners on the right, and the bed was pressed up against the windows. To the left there was a desk and another cushioned chair. Potted plants rested in the corners of that side of the room. The bed looked amazingly comfortable. It had some sort of cushioned step at the foot of it, a king sized bed that was too high up to simply drop onto. Likely the cushioned step, as long as the bed was wide, was there to help with that problem. It was also a four poster bed with a canopy. The sheets and blankets, and even the draperies, Gage noticed, were a red wine silk of some sort. And he had half expected them to be black. He chuckled at himself and decided to take a look at the bathroom.
         The door to the bathroom was also wide open, a set of double doors as well. What amazed Gage most of all was the fact that the bathroom looked at first like another sitting area. The floor wasn’t carpeted in that room, however, and the chaise lounge wasn’t velvet. It looked like it was leather instead, probably treated to withstand any possible water damage. There were also a pair of wingback leather chairs and a glass coffee table instead of a wooden one. He didn’t see the tub at first. Not until he ventured in further.
         The sitting area also had a vanity against the wall, and a door that probably lead out into the hall off to the left. There was a shear curtained partition to the right that crossed into the actual bathroom. Gage whistled and listened to that awed sound echo against the tiles. They were a calming blue color and looked to be made of broken pieces of stained glass that had been fitted together and plastered to the floor, with some sort of gloss painted over top. No sharp edges, though. Just an awkward mishmash that somehow made the entire room look exquisitely beautiful and peaceful. And there was the tub.
         There was a toilet tucked behind a section of the wall with a sink and a medicine cabinet that seemed to be a part of the wall, to the left. In the furtherst corner of the room, the upper righthand corner from the door, there was the tub. That’s what had made Gage whistle most of all. It was the largest tub he had ever seen. In fact, it looked more like a jacuzzi that five people could fit in than it did a bathtub. Glossy white steps, two of them, with rubber treads glued to them, lead up into the tub. There were two triangular wedges that could act as seats. The heart of the tub was deep enough to have almost been a swiming pool. It was huge!
         “He wants me to take a bath in this?” Gage saw a basket full of fresh towels and wash cloths, neatly folded, on the left ledge. There was also a basket full of shampoo, conditioner, lotions, bubble bath, and bath salts. A brand new, untouched, unopened bar of soap with no particular brand name, nestled in plain brown paper with a logo he’d never seen before, was set neatly atop the towels. Gage was uncomfortable seeing all of those expensive accessories. He dreaded using them and ruining their novelty. Fortunately, he still had three hours to go before he had to. Three hours to be uncomfortable about it. He’d forgotten about the cigarette and decided instead to see about that nap.
         Gage left the bathroom and stepped back into the bedroom. There was a wardrobe that he hadn’t noticed before. Likely that’s where his borrowed clothes for the week were kept. He decided to check on that later. Now wasn’t important. Likely in a house this big there would be maids to take care of cleaning up after him. There didn’t seem to be a hamper or a laundry shoot, or anywhere that looked like a good place to toss his clothes. Though he figured simply tossing them on the floor wouldn’t be a good idea. He kicked off his shoes and set them neatly against the wall by the wardrobe. Then he unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it across one of the chairs in the corner. It felt good to get out of the monkey suit. He also removed the vest and loosned his tie. For now, all of those could lay sprawled across the chair. He loosened the collar on the shirt, however, by unlatching one of the buttons. He wondered how people could wear this sort of thing every day. It was the most uncomfortable clothing he had ever worn.
         Once he was a little more relaxed, not feeling as if he were walking around in a bag of strangling starch, he stepped to the end of the bed and up onto the cushioned step. Certainly it had a fancier name, like an ottoman or something ridiculous, but Gage thought of it as a step. He looked down at the bed and shook his head. For some reason even touching the fabric covering the mattress felt wrong. He didn’t feel as if he belonged here at all. In this house. Amongst the people whom he could no longer hear milling about downstairs. None of it felt appropriate. He felt like a thief trespassing on a house made of gold.
         None of that mattered, though. He was stuck here for a week and better get used to it. Besides, he was exhausted. The alcohol in his system was too much for him to handle. He felt numb all over and wanted only to succumb to the sweet release of sleep. Maybe if he fell asleep, he’d wake up and all this would be over. Maybe he’d wake up and realize it was only a dream. He thought that every night before he passed out, which is what he did when he turned around and fell freely backwards onto the mattress. It was the softest bed he had ever lay upon. So soft that he was asleep the moment he landed.
         The world flooded in around him and smothered him in darkness. A beehive buzzed wildly overhead, suspended from the silk canopy of the four poster bed. The bees flitted about and discussed the finer points of acceptible human interractions. Whether or not it was proper for two unrelated women to kiss each other on the mouth in civilized company. Whether or not it was okay to be a gay boy amongst a pack of wolves who have decided homosexuality is an illness that needs to be cured. The bees buzzed and gossiped and tittered monotonously.
         Then there was a little girl in a pale white dress standing in front of a box made of gold. She was standing in Gideon’s office at the end of the hall. Gage walked down the hall and saw her standing there. She was holding a dirty porcelain doll in her hand; it was dangling by its arm dejectedly. The little girl lifted a finger and pressed it to her lips in a shushing manner. She giggled. Then she turned and scurried over to Gideon’s desk on silently slippered feet. Gage stepped into the doorway. She turned to look at him and smiled a secretive smile. There was a box made of gold sitting on the desk. She set her doll down beside it. “Close the door,” she whispered. Gage closed the door.
         When he turned back to look at the little girl, she beckoned him closer. “Who are you?” he asked. But he also stepped across the room, closer to the desk and the girl and the box.
         “Shh,” she said. “He’ll hear you.” She had the sweetest voice Gage had ever heard any little girl speak with. For a moment he felt as if he were talking to a much younger version of Julia, but the girl wasn’t doing much talking at all. The house was silent. Maybe she had made it silent. Or maybe it was simply too late for there to be any other noise at all. He was convinced that it was dark outside, though he hadn’t checked out the window to see for certain.
         The little girl in the pale white dress reached to open the gold box. She hesitated and looked at him. She beckoned him even closer and he complied by stepping close enough to kneel down beside her. She nodded her head toward the box, and he looked at it as she did. She opened the box slowly. He swallowed a lump in his throat, as if he were afraid of what might be inside the box. He suspected some horrible monster to leap out of the box when it was open completely. There was a sense of fear, of dread, like one has on Christmas morning when expecting the large wrapped box in the corner under the tree to not be the most expensive gift you’d wanted all season long. Excited and afraid all at once, Gage blinked.
         He felt hands on his chest, fingers that were working the buttons loose on his shirt. He groaned when he realized he was no longer dreaming. He had blinked and the little girl was no longer there. He’d been pulled out of Gideon’s office and placed back on the bed in his temporary room. He never got to see what was in the box. He hadn’t the chance to find out who the little girl was and what was so important about the box. It occurred to him then, only briefly, that he’d seen that same little girl all day and all night long. Who was she? That wasn’t important right now.
         Someone was unbuttoning his shirt. Fingers had given up on being gentle at that point, and instead on working them free neatly, they suddenly tore the front of the shirt open and sent buttons flying. He heard one of them click and rebound off of the wardrobe to his left. He heard a voice murmuring something to him, words he couldn’t clearly comprehend. He’d had too much alcohol last night.
         Whoever it was on top of him had worked his arms out of the sleeves and removed the shirt entirely with careful skill. Gage tried opening his eyes to see who it was, but for some reason he couldn’t. His consciousness slowly rolled back in to make him more aware of the situation. He realized he couldn’t open his eyes because he was blind-folded. He realized he was laying on his back and his arms were stretched out at an angle away from and above his head. He realized his wrists were being bound, by what? By metal. He realized that when he heard the click of something locking into place, likely handcuffs. Then he recognized who it was sitting on his hips when he heard the voice, a sultry and seductive voice that was entirely masculine.
         “Have a little too much to drink, did you?” That was entirely a rhetorical question. Likely the man could smell it on his breath. “That’s quite all right. We can still have our fun. Though I’m a little disappointed in you, Gage.” He felt fingers toying with the button on his pants, loosening it, and then tugging down on the zipper slowly. He sucked in a sobering breath and listened to the man speak. “You didn’t take a bath as I instructed. Having you wet and clean would have been much more fun for our first night together. It also would have made it much more ... pleasant. For you.”
         A feeling of dread flooded his veins and instantly washed away the numbing quality of the liquors and champagne he’d ingested earlier that evening. That calming breath he had pulled in was released with a shiver over his lips, a shiver that stabbed various points all the way down his spine. Gideon pulled down on his pants and slid his body down the boy’s legs until he could feel neither. He lay naked on the red wine satin sheets. Red. Even though he couldn’t see the color then, he recalled the memory of what color the bed coverings were. For some reason it seemed important that he remember.
         He no longer felt Gideon’s weight on the bed, but he could hear the man moving around near his feet. He felt cold metal wrap around his ankles and heard another set of clicks. More handcuffs. With a hum of noise that was rather close to a moan, he pulled up his legs to test the slack. He was thankful to discover that he could at least bend his knees. Otherwise it would have made sex a little difficult. Then again, maybe Gideon didn’t intend on having sex with him tonight. Maybe he intended on being a sadistic bastard, tying him up, toying with him a bit, and then leaving. He heard something scrape and then heard something hiss. By the lightly sulfuric scent that wafted into his nostrils, he realized that Gideon had just struck a match and lit something, likely a candle. Inwardly, Gage groaned. Outwardly, he whimpered, and if his brain weren’t still swimming in alcohol, he wouldn’t have even done that.
         “Anxious?” he heard Gideon ask. He felt something sharp glide up across his flesh from his ankle to his thigh. He realized after a moment that it was more than one something. He suspected those somethings were Gideon’s fingernails, especially when he felt a cold hand wrap around his testicles.
         Gage hissed and writhed under the feel of the man’s hand. He’d never felt a hand so cold before, particularly wrapped around so sensitive an area. “Y-yes!” he gasped. He lifted his hips up and away from the mattress in a subconsciously feeble attempt to escape the man’s grasp. Yet at the same time it felt really, really good. Almost orgasmic. Gideon only held on tighter and pressed his nails into the sensitive flesh along the underside of the boy’s scrotum. Gage whimpered and bit down on his lower lip, a silent plea that slipped out before he could stop it.
         “Good,” Gideon said. The man sounded pleased, but also disappointed. “I thought for sure that you weren’t looking forward to our first night together when I found you here asleep, but then I thought perhaps you’d simply had too much to drink. Does this hurt?” The man’s entire hand closed around the boy’s scrotum even tighter and his nails dug in so sharp that Gage imagined he must be bleeding by now.
         “Yes!” he cried out. By some base instinct he pulled away from the touch only to discover that doing so intensified the pain. How could a man’s hand be so frigidly cold? And how could his nails be so sharp?
         “Good. Good. Very good.” Only after Gideon had said that did he remove his hand. Gage slumped back against the mattress with a relieved sigh. “I’m glad to see you’re still sensitive. I half expected someone of your particular reputation to be numb to feeling entirely.” So it was a test then? What had the man expected? A virgin whore?
         “What was that?” Gage asked. Stupid. He’d asked before giving himself the chance to think about it. He never should have asked. It wasn’t his place to ask questions like that, let alone any questions at all. He blamed it on the alcohol.
         “Ice,” Gideon answered. He heard something scrape like a thousand smooth rocks scraping against metal. It was probably a bucket full of ice. “And this wonderful accessory I picked up in a market somewhere in Europe.” He heard the clunk of metal landing against something wooden. While he was curious about the mentioned accessory, there wasn’t much he could do to actually see it. Maybe later.
         So much for being aroused any time soon. With his balls being frozen solid and scraped up by some sharp metal accessory, not to mention the alcohol that still lingered in his system, he doubted he’d be able to get it up. Despite that, he felt his penis throb. Traitor. There was also the problem he was having of convincing himself to pretend to like this Gideon Langston. Everything about the man made Gage feel terribly small and uneasy.
         He heard footsteps on the floor around to his left, by the wardrobe, and then he heard Gideon speak again. “It’s only a quarter ‘til four. In case you were wondering. When I found you here sleeping instead of in the tub as I expected, I had to change my plans. I don’t really like changing my plans at the last minute, Gage, but I’m rather good at doing so, and quickly. We’re going to have a little fun tonight. Well, I am at any rate.” The man chuckled in an unnervingly devious sort of way. Gage shivered and sucked in another breath. Whether it was the shock of the cold or the sound of the man’s voice, he wasn’t certain. One or both of those things had a way of terrifying him that he inwardly chided himself over. Don’t be a pussy, he told himself. He almost laughed.
         Before he could, however, he felt something searingly hot land against his left nipple and sizzle briefly against his flesh. He cried out again instantly. “Hot wax,” he heard Gideon say before he could even think of asking. “It’s hot for a moment, but then it cools rather quickly.” The man was right. As soon as the heat had burned him he felt it cool down and turn his skin numb. He gasped and managed to suck in a sharp breath before he cried out again. The man had let another splash of hot wax land against his other nipple. Gage almost felt as if he were hyperventilating.
         No one he had ever been with before had ever done anything like this to him. There had been a few whips and some flails here and there, but they’d never struck him hard enough to cause any real pain. There were intervals, spans of seconds that Gage counted before he felt it again. He grit his teeth when he felt a trail of it landing across his abdomen, from the top of his sternum all the way down to his navel. “Nngh,” he groaned, arching his spine away from the mattress.
         “Now see,” Gideon said. “If you had taken a bath and waited for me as I instructed, you wouldn’t be going through this right now.” Gage panted and thought for a moment that the man had stopped with the melted candle wax. He actually felt a glimmer of hope that slipped into a feeling of dread in wondering what else the man had in store for him. That’s when he felt that same sensation land against something more vulnerable than his nipples or his torso.
         “Ow Jesus Christ!” he shouted. He felt the stinging burn of tears leak out of the corners of his eyes instantly. He saw spots flicker and dance against his closed eyelids. His dick burned and throbbed under the intense heat of hot wax landing against it. The inside of a woman was hot, but never this hot! And then, as soon as the sting of the wax had landed and made it’s impact, the sensation was gone. It wasn’t so much the pain that had startled him, for there wasn’t a whole lot of pain at all. It was more the shock of the man deciding to drip hot wax there, of all places! It was an odd feeling, and strangely arousing. Maybe he wouldn’t have as much trouble as he initially thought he would.
         Gideon Langston only chuckled, a deviously maddened sort of chuckle that only a sadistic psychopath could have vocalized. “How does it feel?” he asked. Gage heard soft footsteps move away from the side of the bed.
         How does it feel? Gage pulled in a shuddering breath and tried to come up with an answer that would please the man. Something shifted on the bed to his right. What had Gideon said earlier? He wanted Gage to be himself. So be honest, he thought. “It feels,” he began. There was only one word that made any sense. “Strange.”
         He felt the press of weight upon the mattress close in on his right side, but he heard Gideon speaking from the foot of the bed. “Strange?” The man made a sound by clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Something small and soft brushed lightly against the tip of his penis. Gage sucked in a breath again and held it. They felt like fingers, but whose? “Hm. Only strange,” Gideon said, and then there was an ominously lingering silence. Gage had little time to wonder why there was silence. He felt those foreign fingers peel the wax carefully off of his penis, and then he felt something warm and moist glide from the tip to the base. Even blind he knew that whoever was on the bed with him had just ran the tongue meticulously slowly down the length of his dick. He quivered, and so did his growing erection.
         There was no way of knowing whether the person toying with his dick was male or female. Gage’s senses were still far too hazy to detect anything particular. Whoever it was, he or she was laying in a manner in which he couldn’t even feel the chest, breasts or no breasts. After the initial glide of tongue, something else pressed up against his hip, it felt silky and smooth and soft, probably a throw pillow. Whoever it was leaned against that, restricting nearly all physical body contact with him. Maybe Gideon had silently instructed the person to do so, just to confuse him. It was maddening! And it worked.
         Moist warmth closed around the tip of his penis, only the first half inch of sensitive flesh. Gage gasped at the suddenly restrictive feel of an unknown mouth pulling in more, beginning to suckle. He moaned ann slowly lifted his hips to urge whoever it was to take in more. It wasn’t often that anyone sucked his dick. On most occasions he was the one performing the act on another. Feeling it performed on him, even though he couldn’t see who was doing it, was an exquisite treat. In fact, not knowing who it was somehow made it better. He didn’t want it to tstop, which meant he should have expected it to end. Just as he felt the swirl of a tongue around the tip, he felt the glorious mouth pull away. Chill air wrapped around the moisture that was left behind, and he whimperd.
         “And how did that feel?” he heard Gideon ask, still from the foot of the bed. The man likely hadn’t moved at all.
         Gage felt the flat of someone’s palms smooth down along his hips, helping ease him back down upon the mattress. They were small hands, probably a woman’s hands. Maybe it was Julia. Maybe they worked as a team, played these sick games all the time. But no. He would have recognized the feel of Julia’s hands. He would have recognized her scent. There was no jasmine nor rose water scent.
         “How,” Gideon asked again, pausing impatiently, “did that feel?” That time the man added action to his words. The bonds around his ankles were yanked down toward the foot of the bed. His legs were violently straightened, restricting his movement. He pulled his legs back reflexively but found he couldn’t move them very far at all, not even an inch. He cried out when eh felt the metal locked around his ankles scrape against bone and bite into his flesh. “Well?”
         “It felt,” gasped Gage. “It felt great.”
         “I suppose you’d like to feel it again?”
         “Yes,” he whimpered. This was torture. Being teased and taunted like this was driving him crazy. He wasn’t sure how much more he’d be able to take.
         “Yes what?”
         “Yes please.”
         Silence followed his plea, and then suddenly he felt the stranger’s mouth take in his penis and continue working right where he or she had left off. It was a small mouth. The moment he felt that moist warmth engulf him again he released a stuttering sound of surprised satisfaction. The mouth closed its lips tightly around his penis. Again he reflexively bucked his hips up into the feeling, but with his leg movement restricted he couldn’t push himself too far. A sharp elbow rested against his navel, hands still on his hips, holding him down. The tongue swirled and the mouth suckled. It was nothing like how he imagined his own method might have felt like. This almost felt like the work of an inexperienced amateur. Not that he had been pleasured like this himself to know much of a difference. It felt damn good either way.
         Gideon and the mouth toyed with him like this for what felt like hours. Just when it started to feel really good, whenever Gage moaned and writhed and whimpered, the mouth stopped as if silently commanded to do so. Then Gideon asked him how it felt. If Gideon was pleased with the answer, the mouth resumed immediately. After a great deal of time, the precise length of which Gage couldn’t determine, the boy cried out in a desperate plea.
         “Please!” He couldn’t take it any more. A few times now he had almost reached orgasm. Gideon seemed to know just when to make the mouth stop. He was trembling. His body was just as desperate for the pleasurable release as he was. “Don’t stop,” he begged. “Please don’t.” The moment those words escaped him, the mouth did exactly what he didn’t want it to do. It stopped.
         The whimpering sound that escaped Gage then was one of frustration. The mouth and the body attached to it slipped off the bed silently. He heard whispering, and because he hadn’t heard the other person say a single thing all night, he suspected it was Gideon doing the talking between the two. Though he couldn’t make out the words at all. There was more silence that followed after that. The only thing Gage heard for several seconds, felt like minutes, was his own pounding heart. So much excitement and here he was left hanging. Bound and incapable of doing anything about his swollen erection. It only needed a little more coaxing to be satisfied. Only a little more.
         He was really starting to hate this arrangement. He hoped to God, though he wasn’t much of a religious person himself, that the rest of the week didn’t include repeat sessions like this one.
         Tick, tick, tick. There was that sound again. He wasn’t wearing a watch. Gideon might have been wearing a watch, but the man wasn’t close enough for him to be able to hear it that clearly, the slow tick of a wristwatch keeping track of the seconds. The alarm clock on the nightstand was digital, so that wasn’t the source of the sound. Maybe it was just the residue of alcohol in his blood. Or maybe all of that pleasure without the satisfaction of release had driven him over the edge. He swore he saw an image of the little girl in the pale white dress looming over him through the blindfold. Maybe I’m just going crazy, he thought. But he didn’t have much more time to contemplate the intricacies of going mad.
         A sharp pain suddenly assaulted him from below. Without any warning whatsoever, something cold and dry had been thrust into his anus. Gage cried out, louder than he had any other time previously that night. He screamed his discomfort and announced it to the heavens. A hundred thousand white lights slammed against his eyes, through the blindfold, and for a second there he thought he’d blacked out. Tears soaked into the material that covered his eyes. He even thought for a moment that the voice he’d heard shouting wasn’t his own. His heart had stopped and then restarted. His lungs had forgotten how to process air, and then he remembered how to breathe again, staggeringly. Of all the times anyone had ever shoved anything into his ass, he couldn’t recall any other time previously in which it had hurt that intensely.
         In that moment, his earlier assessment of Gideon Langston was proven true. The moment he saw him he suspected the man would hurt him. He was right, but he never imagined his assessment would have been this intensely accurate. Whatever it was that had been shoved in there had been left there. Gage whimpered like a beaten child and fought to keep his ass suspended away from the mattress. That was the most uncomfortable feeling he had ever been subjected to, and he only wanted to be rid of it.
         “Does that hurt?” What an ass! Gage wanted to shout at him. He wanted to cuss at him and tell him that was the stupidest question anyone had ever asked him. Gideon sounded so horrifically sincere in his ignorance. Oh, but he knew. Gage knew the man knew that it hurt. He also knew the man wouldn’t be satisfied unless he received an answer.
         Fighting for a stitched breath, Gage gasped a singular hissing word. “Yes,” he said. It hurt like hell, he wanted to say. He wondered if whatever it was, maybe a dildo or a plug, had damaged anything while being shoved so roughly inside, without any lubrication whatsoever. He’d bled before. Many of the men he slept with before had been rough and stupid and left him aching for days, sometimes bleeding. Fortunately it had never been anything too serious. Maybe this time it was. He had no way of knowing.
         “You should try to relax then,” Gideon instructed calmly. He was vaguely aware of weight settling onto the bed on his right side, where the mouth had been laying before. By the sound of the voice, much closer than before, when it spoke again, he knew it was Gideon who had settled there. “It doesn’t look like it hurts,” the man mused. As he said that, Gage felt a finger swipe across his stomach, just below his navel. There was something cold and moist there. It took him a moment to realize what it was. Apparantly he’d gotten his release afterall, and he hadn’t even noticed. That sharp pain must have triggered it. He ejaculated, finally had his orgasm, and he had barely even noticed it. How embarrassing.
         Gage was panting; his breath came in short spurts. Gideon splayed a warm palm across the boy’s stomach and set his hand roaming up and down the boy’s torso, smearing the mess that had collected. “I think you’re even prettier when you’re helpless,” the man purred. Here his voice took on that permanently seductive quality, like a madhouse inmate too doped up on sedatives to see the world clearly. Coated fingers touched against his lips, painting them with his own semen. Gage whimpered. He hated this part.
         The coated finger slipped past his lips, forced its way into his mouth. They always made him taste his own semen. Always. Personally, he didn’t understand why it was such a turn-on. He’d swallowed plenty of times from other men. It rarely tasted bad. Even his own didn’t taste bad, but he still hated it. What he hated about it was how it was forced upon him like this. They never asked. They never suggested. Gideon was no exception. There was nothing special about this man. He was only more demanding, more controlling, more dominant than any man he had ever been with before.
         Gage was a practiced moaner. It came naturally from years of experience. He constantly emitted pleased sounds, even if he wasn’t pleased. Now those sounds reverberated against a finger that he reflexively licked clean, suckled on. Gideon lay next to him, he felt the man’s naked body press up against his side. He wondered, briefly, when it was the man had stripped out of his clothing. Or maybe he had been nude the entire time. Lips brushed against his ear and a tongue teased the sensitive interior flesh for a second before words were breathed into his ear. “Now what do you want to feel, my boy? What I have in you now? Or do you want to feel me inside of you instead?” He only gave Gage those two choices. He was a little amazed that the man had given him any choices at all. The finger retreated out of his mouth and the nail scraped along his jawline. Gage shivered and so did his breath.
         Whatever it was inside of him, it was uncomfortable. It was hard and inflexible, maybe something made of smooth plastic. Having been thrust inside without lubrication, as quickly as it had been shoved into him, he guessed it would only rub him raw and sore if he chose that option. “Take it out,” he begged, barely more than a whisper. “Please. I ... I want you. Please.” That was a lie. What he really wanted was for Gideon to take the object out and walk away. He didn’t want the man to touch him at all. But this was the arrangement. Fifty thousand dollars, maybe a hundred thousand, for seven days of this. Gage wondered if it could get any worse, and then he realized he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to imagine what else may be in store for him the rest of the week.
         Whether or not Gideon had detected the lie was never revealed. It seemed that he was pleased enough with the answer regardless. The man slid away from him, and at first Gage thought he was going to leave him there. But then he heard a click and felt the metal slide away from his ankles. He released a relieved breath and planted his feet flat on the mattress to hold himself up, trembling, to keep his ass suspended. Then he felt hands glide smoothly up his legs to his hips. He felt Gideon’s nude weight bear down on him and elbows press into the mattress beside his head. The blindfold was pulled off of his face and a tongue licked away the residue of tears from his cheeks and eyes.
         Once the man had unlatched the cuffs around the boy’s rests, he slid down along Gage’s body and reached between his legs to give the object a twist. Gage cried out and tossed back his head, trembling once more. He thought for sure that Gideon intended on doing exactly the opposite of what Gage had asked, but then the object was pulled out of him and he sighed with relief. He never got a chance to see what it was that had been shoved inside of him. Gideon tossed it aside and Gage only heard the solid thump of hard plastic landing on the rug covering the floor under the bed.
         Gideon gave him no chance to think of anything else either. Again, without lubrication, the man thrust himself deep into the boy. Gage’s eyes clenched shut and he tossed back his head with a startled outcry. The man laying on top of him licked the underside of his ear and murmured something that Gage couldn’t comprehend. The dance commenced immediately after the initial thrust. Gideon pushed into him, dry, over and over again. Such a sensitive and vulnerable area of the body. The man had no regard for the boy’s health, no concept of whether or not he was doing any damage. It was more painful than it was pleasurable, but it somehow still felt good.
         This went on for hours, until Gage started to feel nothing at all, and even long afterwards. Gideon was a largely endowed man, probably one of the biggest dicks he’d ever felt inside of him. It was a nonstop barrage and at times Gage wondered how long it would last. Just when he thought it was over, Gideon kept going. The man turned him, repositioned him, fucked him until Gage was too exhausted to even moan anymore. And then he fucked him some more. Gage lost count of how many times he had orgasmed himself, some dry and some smeared upon the sheets.
         In the end, Gideon tossed the boy down on the mattress and left him panting and sore. Dawn rolled through the windows and stung his eyes. The man slid off the bed without a word. No comments. No questions. There was a rustling of cloth, perhaps a robe of some sort, and then there was only the sound of birds chirping, muted through the glass. Gage lay on the bed, stomach flat and eyes closed, exhausted and aching. His muscles hurt. His entire body hurt. All he wanted was a bottle of whiskey at that point, but he was too bruised to move. So eventually he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him. That was good enough. He released himself into his subconscious and prayed that when he woke up he was somewhere else, as he always did.