Down Another Notch Page 7

  The women’s voices cut through his thoughts.

  Shut the goddamned fuck up!

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Gritted his teeth.

  Finally he yelled out, “Will you get in here and put it the fuck on already?” If Cris’s plan had been to make sure he wanted the thing on, it fucking worked. Anything to get the TV turned off.

  Over the women’s babble, he couldn’t tell if there was any movement in the other room. He stared at the door, waiting, hoping. Fists clenched.

  His soft cock nestled his leg.

  This would be the perfect fucking time to get this done.

  Cris rolled into the doorway. He raised an eyebrow, a drink in his hand.

  “Just get it the fuck on already.”

  Ice cubes clinked against glass as Cris walked around the bed, checking out Nicky and his soft cock. As if it could feel Cris’s gaze, it started to shift against Nicky’s thigh. He dragged his attention to the television. Trying not to think about what Cris was about to do.

  “All right,” Cris said, setting the glass down. He slid open the drawer.

  A heavy tool thunked against wood as he dropped it next to the Alcatraz.

  Metal rattled lightly as he gave a pack of rivets a little shake. Nicky shifted, twisting his wrists in the leather. He’d half thought the rivets were an empty threat. Cris tossed the pack by Nicky’s hip.

  Fuck. He yanked at the restraints again.

  Cris shut the drawer with his thigh, carried the Alcatraz, the heavy tool, and a bottle of lube down to the lower half of the bed.

  Nicky lifted his head to watch, then dropped it quick, his chest heaving. Rivets.

  Jesus Christ what was he doing?

  “You want me to turn the volume up?” Cris asked.

  Nicky lifted his head.

  His cock was half hard and growing.

  Shit.

  “No.” He laid his head back. They were talking about classic styling on the TV. Comfort-wear insoles. He swallowed and followed along, wondering how much they were going to be, those strappy suede pumps.

  Cris sat between his knees, disassembling the Alcatraz.

  “Do women really watch this?” Nicky asked—not that he cared. He just needed to be distracted.

  “Probably some guys too.” He set a piece of the cage on the mattress. “Irritating as fuck, though, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  Cris leaned across his hip, reaching for the drawer. A few seconds later, the TV cut off. Cris sat back, returning his attention to the Alcatraz.

  Nicky pushed his head into the pillow. Clenched his fists. Counted the knots in the wood beams overhead.

  At the first light touch against his balls, his breathing quickened.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  Goddamned rivets.

  He squeezed his fists till his nails cut into his palms.

  As Cris eased his balls through the steel ring he’d taken off the device, a noise jumped into Nicky’s throat. He he tightened down on it, holding it there.

  He yanked at the belts.

  Cris put a knee on his thigh, pinning him.

  His head started to spin. He was getting too much air, panting it in.

  Cris tugged his cock through the ring, and another noise came out of Nicky, the sound of something breaking loose in him.

  Cris’s knee came up. The ring held him, snug but not tight. Nicky took a shaky breath, trying to relax. Cris, reaching for the other half of the Alcatraz, bumped the box of rivets, and they rattled lightly, which didn’t help at all with the relaxing.

  Nicky managed to say, “You’re lucky I’m letting you do this.”

  “It’s cute you think there’s any ‘letting’ going on.” He looked up, smirking. “If that’s what you have to tell yourself, though, then by all means.”

  “Fuck you, Warren.” And turn the fucking TV back on. His cock was swelling in the ring, the ring quickly going from snug to tight. He shook his hips in frustration. The steel amplified the bounce of his stiff cock.

  Cris backed off the bed and grasped one of Nicky’s ankles. “So I don’t get kicked in the face.” He reached underneath and came up with another belt.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  It took all his willpower not to jerk free and kick Cris in the face after all.

  You want this. Remember that: you want this.

  He dug his other foot into the mattress. Bit his lip as he arched his neck back.

  Cris strapped his ankle to the bedpost.

  Nicky gulped in air, his cock nothing but a keen, hot ache.

  Cris dragged his other ankle to the other corner of the bed.

  His dick throbbed, and he hated to tell it it was throbbing for nothing. Just gonna stuff you back in another hunk of metal. With not even a lock to pick this time.

  Oh God. His body arched. The belts pulled tight, digging into his skin. His muscles were rigid—all of them.

  “Hmm.” Cris bounced Nicky’s cock up so it’d drop and smack his stomach. “Something’s going to need to be done about that.”

  Nicky expected to spend another ten minutes tortured with ladies’ accessories, but Cris’s head dipped. His hair slid forward, cool against Nicky’s belly.

  Nicky let out a shaky breath as Cris’s tongue flicked the underside of his swollen head.

  He groaned, helpless, as Cris’s mouth engulfed it.

  His cock jumped. His balls tightened.

  Cris licked down Nicky’s shafted, closing his lips around the side of it. Sucking as he stroked with two loose fingers. Fuck. Oh fuck. His thighs trembled. He arched his neck, groaning. His balls felt swollen, tender, about to burst through his skin like overripe tomatoes.

  Cris drew a finger up the length of his shaft, all the way to the sensitive notch just below his head, and Nicky clenched his fists, hard. “Fuck.”

  The finger lifted.

  His dick hung in the air, twitching.

  Cris slid his hands down Nicky’s thighs, smiling. Slowly he pushed back up. When his thumbs reached the crook of Nicky’s groin, Nicky whimpered, pushing his hips, aching for touch.

  Cris went right by his dick, up his belly, over his chest.

  Nicky licked his lips and tasted salt. He breathed deep. Cris’s pushed his hand up the back of his neck, into his hair.

  Cris’s thigh pressed nudged his balls.

  His dick ached for attention, strained for touch.

  At the pinch of a nipple, his breath hitched. He moaned when Cris tugged. When Cris rubbed it with his thumb, he turned his face against his arm, his breath ragged.

  Cris’s hands swept downward, sparking every nerve, ramping up the anticipation. His balls felt like twenty-pound weights, like his sac was the size of a watermelon. His cock jumped into Cris’s palm, and Cris caught and held it.

  With every inhale, the craziness building within him grew.

  He was going to lose his mind.

  People would wonder what ever happened to Nicky Hazard. He’d be a drooling idiot, leaning to one side in a wheelchair, oblivious to the pureed carrots being spooned into his mouth.

  Cris Warren was going to drive him insane.

  Cris breathed across the head of his cock, and Nicky had never felt air move with such clarity in his life. Every molecule buffeting his hypersensitive skin was like a world unto itself.

  When Cris took a slow taste of the head of his cock, like he was savoring an ice cream, Nicky’s groan was almost high-pitched enough to be a whine.

  Cris let go of his cock.

  Nicky’s limbs trembled.

  His muscles quivered as Cris teased him with the edge of a fingernail along the inside of his thigh, down the side of his calf. When Cris dragged his nail up the sole of his foot, Nicky jerked.

  Cris looked up at him, and dragged a curse out of Nicky when he nipped at his bare, trapped foot.

  Putting a knee back on the bed, Cris moved a hand up his leg, until his fingertips rested on Nicky’s hip. He stretched over Nicky, lifted
Nicky’s chin. Looked into his eyes.

  Engulfed in Cris’s stare, Nicky didn’t realize Cris’s hand was moving until it closed around his cock, sending a thud through him like a whale batting the side of a U-Boat.

  “Now or never,” Cris whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

  His cock pulsed in Cris’s grip.

  “Do you want to come? Or do you want to be locked back up?”

  The mention of being locked up brought a surge through him, rushing from the bottoms of his feet right up to his scalp, where it prickled and scattered, leaving him hot-faced and breathless. The thought of being locked up took him closer to the edge than he’d ever been. All the sex, the girlfriends, the groupies, even a prostitute or two. He’d never felt anything close to this. Cold tingled along the line of his jaw, spreading up his cheekbones. His balls throbbed. He was losing his mind. He was absolutely fucking crazy.

  “Lock it up,” he gasped, his wrists pulling at the belts. “Fuck, lock it the fuck up.”

  Cris’s lips curved. “Say ‘please.’”

  “Please lock it the fuck up.”

  “Say ‘Sir.’”

  He jerked at the restraints. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

  Cris’s thumb slid over the head of Nicky’s cock.

  Nick gave a moan of frustration, digging his elbows against the mattress.

  “Say it, or in two strokes you’re gonna be done.”

  Nicky’s chest heaved. He pushed against the pillows. Cris’s thumb slid over him again. Oh god. Oh fuck.

  The words burst out of him: “Please, Sir, lock my fucking cock up before I come.”

  Cris’s hand let go all at once. Nicky’s cock slapped his belly. He sucked in a breath, holding himself rigid, and managed not to come.

  Oh God.

  “Well,” Cris said, pulling back. “It can’t go in like that.” He looked toward the bedside table, leaned over and plucked an ice cube from the glass. In the time it’d had sat there, it had melted to half a cube.

  Holding it between two fingers, Cris brought it to his mouth.

  Nicky couldn’t pull his eyes away.

  Cris’s lips closed around it, and slowly he drew it out.

  Oh Jesus Christ.

  Shifting closer to Nicky’s hip, Cris held the ice just above his aching, rigid shaft.

  He looked toward Nicky. “You’d better not come from this.”

  “I’ll try.” Nicky sucked in a gasp as the ice touched his shaft. As Cris slipped it along his skin, he realized he was going to have to try really fucking hard. It was exquisite, the heat of him melting layers off the ice on contact, cool water trickling down his shaft, dripping into his pubic hair.

  “It might take some willpower,” Cris said, sliding the ice over to Nicky’s balls.

  Nicky’s skin pulled tight at its touch.

  “You can do it, though. I have faith in you. If you want this bad enough, you can keep control.” When he brought the cube back up Nicky’s cock, it had already shrunk by half—the ice, not his dick. Rounding his head, it was torture. Amazing, unbelievable torture. Cris swirled it against him. Melt-water pooled on his abdomen. When he sucked in a deep breath, the puddle trickled downward.

  The ice was little more than a chip. Cris popped it in his mouth, his teeth crunching it. He reached into the glass for another.

  His dick was starting to give in. The water clung to it, catching cool air from the room. Cris blew along it, cooling it even more.

  Nicky tipped his head back and swallowed.

  Tucking what was left of the cube into his palm, Cris picked up the Alcatraz.

  Shit.

  He pulled weakly at the belts. His breath came in huffs. The bed shifted. The cap on the bottle of lube popped open. In another moment, Cris’s fingers, slick and cool, lifted his cock. Steel nudged his balls. The thin metal tube inside the cage touched the head of his cock. And then it pushed inside of him. He gasped at the sharp sting of lube entering his urethra. It lasted half a second, and then his piss hole was being filled with the metal tube.

  Cris pushed the cage onto his cock, Nicky helpless to do anything about it. He tightened his thigh muscles, shifted his hips.Cris just kept working. The steel surrounded him. He gritted his teeth, drawing his lips back. As Cris fitted the cage to the ring around his cock, Nicky growled, lifting his hips. Trying to pull his ankles free.

  “There,” Cris said.

  He gave up the fight with a gasp, his fingers opening, his toes flexing.

  Fuck.

  The tube felt foreign inside him, holding his slit open. At least he wouldn’t be spraying urine all over the inside of the cage when he took a piss. But the feeling. He shifted, trying to get away from it.

  Trying to fuck it.

  He lifted his head, like it weighed twenty pounds, and stared down his bare torso.

  With one hand holding the two pieces of the cage together, Cris popped what was left of the ice cube into his mouth. It crunched as he pried open the box of rivets. A few spilled over the sheet, little pieces of metal that looked like tiny swords with fat hilts. He picked one up.

  A throb hit deep in Nicky’s balls.

  His cock started to swell again, even as panic churned his stomach.

  They were really fucking doing this.

  Cris held the cage against the ring, giving his cock nowhere to expand to.

  Nicky jerked the belts with his ankles. The bed was so solid, the posts hardly moved.

  Cris inserted the thick end of the rivet into the hole the a padlock would have gone through.

  Nicky’s mouth was dry. His throat tightened.

  I can back out of this.

  Right?

  Cris thumbed the safety hook off the rivet tool’s handle and picked it up. Its head was like a nozzle, a beak. Nicky moved his hips, trying to pull away as Cris brought the tool over to the rivet. Nos clambered up his throat. He clenched them back down to his chest, where they piled up, one on top of the other.

  Cris fitted the nozzle over the thin end of the rivet that stuck out from the hole.

  An inhuman noise came through Nicky’s clenched teeth.

  Cris took the handles in both hands and squeezed them together. It didn’t seem like anything happened. Cris let the handles open, the squeezed again, and with a loud pop that Nicky felt like ice-cold panic in his balls, the end of the rivet snapped off.

  Cris dumped the end into his palm and set the tool aside. He bent to look at his work.

  “Yeah, that’s on good.”

  Every nudge on the Alcatraz brought panic and fear and a sick thrill through Nicky. What the fuck did I just do? A cold sweat blanketed his face. His head felt like sand rushing out with the tide. He dropped onto the pillows, swallowing and swallowing and trying not to fly apart into pieces.

  “Yep, that’s on really good.” Cris climbed off the bed with the tools and set them on the nightstand.

  Nicky squirmed. The weight of this new cage was different, a whole lot fucking lighter. He was keenly aware the tube in him. It didn’t hurt; it was just there, a foreign invasion. One less way he owned his own dick.

  Cris put a hand on his forehead, moved it to his cheek, turning Nicky’s face toward him. “You going to be okay?”

  Nicky nodded. Pulled at the belts. Nodded again, just to feel Cris’s hand against his face.

  “Well, guess we don’t need these any more.”

  A tug came at Nicky’s wrist. The buckle let go, and his arm dropped. His shoulder complained as he lifted his arm, bending and straightening his elbow. Cris leaned across his chest to loosen the other one.

  With both hands free, Nicky put them over his face and breathed into the darkness behind them. He’d let that thing get riveted on. Goddamnit. It just went to show how fucked up your brain could get when you were horny—and he’d been horny nonstop since this whole thing got started.

  It probably just needed a drill to get it off, he told himself.

  “Just” a drill. Alongsi
de his privates. Great.

  His ankle came free. He drew his heel up the bed, cocking his knee. His chest had tight bands around it. He was still turned on, so incredibly fucking turned on. Even the thought of subjecting himself to a drill was making him more hot than not. The backs of his arms brushed his chest while he rubbed his eyes; little sparks of electric cold ran down the direct connection to his balls.

  I have this thing fucking riveted on.

  No fucking chance of getting off now.

  Cris slipped the last belt from his sweat-damp skin before stretching out on top of him, chest to chest. He lifted Nicky’s hands from his face. Peered into his eyes.

  With his hands free, Nicky could clasp Cris’s face, Cris’s hair cool against his fingertips.

  “You’re amazing,” Cris said quietly, curling his fingers around Nicky’s forearm.

  Nicky snorted and tipped his chin toward the ceiling. “Amazingly off my fucking rocker, you mean.” Nick, what the fuck have you gone and done?

  “Take a look at it,” Cris said, sliding off Nicky to lie on his hip alongside him. He lifted the cage a little. Nicky couldn’t feel Cris’s fingers through the metal, just the gentle pull of it, the slight tug of the ring against his balls. He lifted his head. Cris slid his thumb across the cage-like area at the head, a light tease of skin on skin playing through the small openings. Nicky’s cock swelled, trying to squeeze out those openings.

  “It looks good on you,” Cris said. “Better than that other one.” He stroked Nicky through the openings, making his breath hitch, his stomach twitch. “This one’s a work of art, don’t you think?” The steel shone.

  “Here, feel the rivet.” He grasped Nicky’s fingers and guided them to the place where the pin had snapped off. Nicky felt a little hump there, a dent in the metal. He pinched the lock bar, feeling both ends of the rivet.

  All sealed up.

  “Sit up.” Cris pushed away to give him room.

  He hauled himself up and stared at his lap. He touched the tube. Curved his fingers around it. No teeth pulling at him. He rounded his thumb over the very end of it, where a smooth, machined hole led into the metal catheter. No playing with his slit with this cage on, not even with one of those detachable shower massagers.

  “It’s pretty fucking badass,” Cris said. “Stand up, walk around. See how it feels.”