by Lynda Aicher
Vanessa was a fucking genius.
When she’d first showed him the chastity device, he’d thought she was joking. But then, she rarely joked. It’d taken a second to understand the challenge for what it was. The thought of wearing the damn thing had both enticed and pissed him off, but no way would he balk so early.
Now. God, now he understood.
She owned him. The cock cage was a vivid reminder of her power over him, even if she said she didn’t want it outside the playroom.
He loved it.
He’d spent the entire evening roaming around his house so he could experience the weight of the device. The way it bunched up when he sat down. The extra bulge that pulled on the material of jeans. He’d even walked around naked after staring at himself in the mirror.
He smiled into the darkness as he laid his fingers on the metal tube. It was warm to the touch. Hard. He traced the outline of the lock, his smile growing. She had the key.
With his job, this wasn’t something he could wear often or full-time, but damn, he certainly didn’t mind it. The only thing better would be if she were here to see it. The thought of pleasuring her until she came while he was denied release had his erection returning.
Holy fuck no. He vaulted off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Urinating had been an event all its own, but he had it down now. Oddly enough, he was excited to go out tomorrow and discover what else he’d figure out. He’d first thought he’d skip everything and hide out at home, but not anymore.
He was doing his day as planned. Lifting weights and then lunch with Walters before swinging by the youth center for a few hours. Being busy would be a hell of a lot better than sitting home thinking about Vanessa all day. He’d end up with a hundred boners and blue balls the size of kettlebells if he did.
She’d be in his thoughts all day anyway, but this way he’d have other distractions. Plus he liked the idea of having a secret that was between his Mistress and him.
His Mistress—Vanessa.
* * *
The first text arrived as he was eating breakfast.
Sleep well?
He grinned and quickly typed back.
Sleeping was fine. It was the waking up that sucked.
Sweet dreams then?
I’ll never take my morning wood for granted again.
Imagine how good it will feel when I suck your cock into my mouth later.
Holy shit. He shifted on the bar stool and quickly pressed his palm to the tube to hold it against his groin. After a few seconds of deep breathing, he got his cock under control and managed to type in a response. If it pleases you.
He got the next text when he was in the locker room at the gym. He’d just finished the awkward dance of changing his clothes while keeping a towel around his waist. He’d never done that. He’d grown up in locker rooms, and nudity was just a part of it. If any of the guys saw him wiggling his pants on beneath a towel, they’d rip on him for weeks.
Having a good day?
He dropped the towel and quickly did up his cargo shorts. After several attempts, he’d found some clothes that worked with the cage. He’d emptied his underwear drawer before settling on a jockstrap fitted for a cup, only he’d left the cup out. The extra weight on his groin was a constant reminder of Vanessa, but the snug hold of the strap kept it from being obvious to others.
Snatching his phone from the locker shelf, he texted back. Excellent. You?
Where are u?
At the gym.
I can see you strapped to a bench, waiting for me.
Shit. He banged his head into the locker, shifting his weight until the pressure on his skull was greater than the one in his groin. Eyes squeezed closed, he visualized slap shots sailing into the net until his dick stopped responding to the image she’d conjured. At last he texted back. If it pleases you.
The text during lunch was perfectly timed to the point that he actually scanned the pub to be certain she wasn’t there.
How’s lunch?
He glanced at Walters then answered. Good. Yours?
He was chewing another bite of his burger when her text came back. Dinner will be better. You’ll be eating me.
The burger lodged in his throat when he inhaled. Fuck. The harsh round of coughing that followed burned his chest and warmed his face.
“You okay, man?”
Holden looked through watery eyes at his teammate and nodded. He coughed again and managed to get a swallow of water down. Damn, that hurt. But at least it’d dissuaded his dick from responding to Vanessa’s text.
“Sorry,” he croaked. “Wrong pipe.”
Walters nodded and dug into his own burger. The starting center had been Holden’s friend since Holden’s trade to the Glaciers last season. It was normal to bond with the men on his line and this pairing worked off-ice too.
“Interesting text?” Walters asked, his chin bobbing to indicate Holden’s phone clutched in his hand.
Holden gave a noncommittal grunt, took another drink and sent back his response before stowing his phone in the large side-pocket on his shorts. If it pleases you. Damn. It would certainly please him. “How’s the family doing?” he asked as a way to change the subject. The man wasn’t married, but like Holden, he’d spent a few weeks in his hometown after the season had ended.
Walters swallowed his food and shrugged. “Fine. But you know how it is. It’s always a bit weird. Nothing changes, yet everyone thinks you have.”
“Yeah,” Holden agreed. “My sisters and parents are the only ones who still treat me the same.” His whole family lived in the suburbs surrounding Flint, Michigan, where he’d been raised. They were good people with working-class morals. His parents refused all of his offers of financial help, content to stay in the house they’d bought almost forty years ago.
Walters gave a sarcastic snort and ran his napkin over his mouth. “My sister tries to hook me up with all of her friends. It pisses me off.”
Holden laughed. “My sisters warned me away from all of their friends. I’ve been threatened with death if I ever date someone they know.”
“Wanna trade sisters?” Walters’s brows rose with hope before he chuckled.
“Hell, if you think you can handle them, you can have mine.”
“Three older, right?”
Holden nodded as he chewed his food.
Walters paused for a second before shaking his head. “Nah. It’s tempting, but I’ll stick to my pain-in-the-ass one. Thanks.”
Another text arrived when Holden was sorting out the meager sports equipment stored in a closet at the youth center. Still on?
Holden snorted. He didn’t question what she was talking about. The fucker was locked on and she had the key. With a lot of soap and the willingness to tug on sensitive areas, he could get the cage off—he’d tested it in the shower that morning. What he’d really discovered was that chastity was a mental thing on his part. Escape was possible, but he wanted to be in the device because she wanted it.
For you, was his simple response when in fact it was for him too.
He leaned against the wall and waited. The space was cramped and smelled of dust, dirt, plastic and leather. Sports—a scent he’d breathed for just about forever. He’d played baseball for a bit, even did soccer for a season before hockey became his sole focus.
I own it.
His head thumped against the wall, eyes closing. God, yes. Would she ever admit to owning him? His phone buzzed with another text.
I’ll show you exactly how when you’re strapped to my whipping post tonight.
The visual was in his head instantly and of course, his dick responded. He checked the doorway and pressed his palm to his groin to push the tube down. He was getting used to the tightening pull, along with the ache in his balls. He was even sta
rting to like it as long as he could control it. The discomfort that came with a semi was just enough to remind him who owned him—or his orgasm, at least.
If it pleases you. He sent the text just before Liv stuck her head through the doorway.
“Everything okay in here?” She flashed a smile and held a badge out to him. “Your background check finally came through.”
“Thanks.” He straightened, shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed the badge. “I guess I’m official now,” he joked before he clipped the laminated badge to the belt loop on his shorts.
“Don’t let me down.” She pointed a finger at him, her look shrewd and so much like her sister’s that he caught himself staring.
He forced a laugh and shook away the thought before his dick responded. “There’s not a lot in here, is there?” He glanced at the half-empty shelves.
She shrugged. “We do what we can.” She waggled her brows. “You wouldn’t happen to know any place willing to make a donation of sporting equipment, would you?” Her wide grin and obvious but shameless bid for his help had him laughing.
“You’re good, you know that?” She really was.
Her chin rose in pride. “It’s my job. But hey, I was only joking.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “The floor hockey stuff was great. Anton is digging the goalie gear you brought, too. It’s the only thing the kids want to play.”
“Give it another week and they’ll be bored.”
“Too true!” She grabbed a couple of basketballs. “Come on. There’s a game starting in five.”
Now that was something he wasn’t willing to try while wearing his new toy. “I’ll ref,” he called out, closing the storage room door.
The last text came as he was getting ready for his evening with her. The anticipation had simmered all day. The chastity device kept his Mistress solidly on his mind. Not always in the forefront, but she’d been there every time the metal moved around or tugged on his balls or he had to inconspicuously adjust himself to get comfortable. Yeah, she’d been there.
In case you need it.
A link to a website followed, which he clicked. He laughed out loud when he saw a video clip detailing how to clean the chastity device while wearing it. There was no way he wasn’t clicking Play. The three-minute clip showed every step for getting the inside nice and sanitized. There was something fascinating about seeing the device on an anonymous man who was proud to wear his cage and share his knowledge with others. Yet he couldn’t help checking over his shoulder to ensure no one was watching, even though he was alone in his house.
When the video finished, he replied to Vanessa. Thank you.
Any issues today?
He typed in a reply then quickly deleted it. Nothing I couldn’t handle. That was more truthful.
You’ve pleased me.
He reread those words multiple times, his smile growing with each pass. A warm sense of pride flushed his skin.
Thank you. He sent the text without the Mistress like he wanted to, but that was too revealing to put in cyberspace. Vanessa’s number was labeled as Her in his contact list. There was always of chance of someone finding his phone or reading his texts, even accidently. He’d taken seriously her threat of things being over if they were discovered. Hell, the exact extent of their relationship wasn’t something he wanted out there either.
When no more texts came through, he set his phone down and picked up the bottle she’d given him last night. He chuckled once again. So many things to learn, and he was looking forward to every one of them.
Chapter Ten
Vanessa checked the room one last time. Everything was in place. The scene was set. She always planned her client sessions, but she’d taken extra care with this one. She’d memorized his checklist, and his knee was a constant concern. The lack of marking while wanting pain was another thing to account for. They weren’t big issues. It just meant she had to be creative.
Between making phone calls, extinguishing a potential media frenzy started by one of her ballplayers and getting press schedules in place for the upcoming hockey camps, she found her mind repeatedly wandering back to Holden. He’d worn the chastity device all day. God, that got to her.
She shut the playroom door behind her, checked her outfit in the mirror and went upstairs to wait. Not that she was waiting for him. She wanted to watch him as he came up the walk. Would his swagger still be in place? Would his chin be up or would his gaze be on the ground? Every little action was a clue to what was going on inside his head. Clues she wanted to uncover.
She could justify her curiosity as being a detailed Domme, but it ran deeper with Holden. She attributed it to her need to keep her worlds separated. The better she understood the man, the more control she had over the entire situation.
The black SUV arrived into her drive at seven fifty-seven. She stood in the shadows of the living room, studying everything through the window. He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a long breath. So he was nervous, maybe. Good. He glanced down for a few seconds before he opened the door and stepped out, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his cargo pants as he did.
She smiled. The loose fit of the pants didn’t detract from his overall appeal. His green T-shirt hugged his chest just enough to draw the eye. His stride was sure when he approached without a hint of difference from his usual gait.
She eyed his crotch, picking out the slight bulge that would go unnoticed by most people. Damn. All of that was hers for the taking.
The doorbell chimed through the house, echoing through the rooms, but she didn’t move. He glanced around the porch, shifted his feet then shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the door.
Another smile found its way to her lips. He had her doing that way too much. It wasn’t good.
A starch reminder of her role as his Mistress had the smile flattening. She spun around and sauntered to the door, her heels clicking the whole way down the hall. They were five-inch steel-heeled stilettos. They seemed fitting, given the metal her sub was wearing for her.
The door opened with a soft click. The scent of grass and flowers rushed in. She looked him over but showed no response. “You’re here.”
He smiled, that boyish charming smile that wooed the cameras and fans. “Of course.” Whether it was conscious or not, he now stood on her porch in almost perfect presentation position. The only difference was his eyes were on her, not the ground.
She admired the picture he made and then stepped away. “Follow me.” Once again she didn’t wait to see if he did.
The door closed behind her and she heard a low “Hello, Vanessa. How are you tonight?”
Around the corner from the door, she stalled at the top of the stairs, eyes squeezing shut as she bit her lip. God, how she wanted to answer, but she didn’t. His steps sounded on the wood floors soon enough, and she flattened her features before starting down the stairs.
She led him straight to the playroom and shut the door after he entered. “Strip.” She kept her tone crisp and her back turned. “Fold your clothes and place them on the dresser.” She indicated a small set of drawers near the entry.
The tight corset restricted her breathing, a sensation she used to focus herself. The rustle of material came first, then the shuffle of shoes. A snap popped; the rasp of a zipper followed. She visualized each step, her anticipation building. The soft pad of his bare feet sounded on the tile over to the dresser then returned to the center of the room.
Only then did she face him.
Her sigh was low, her appreciation escaping in a rush of expelled air. He stood in the presentation pose exactly as she’d instructed. “Beautiful,” she mumbled under her breath.
At long last she took in an unobstructed view of him. His skin was creamy white, his forearms and calves tinted by the sun. She lingered on his thighs, the ra
w power finally displayed before passing upward.
The cock cage gleamed silver and hard at his groin. His balls were round and full behind the tube, pushed forward by the ring at the base. Hair curled around the ring, playing hide-n-seek with the metal in a way that had her wanting to tease it.
“How was the cage?” Her heels clicked with each step that brought her closer to him, but he didn’t look up or break his pose. He was being the perfect submissive, which raised her desire and her suspicion.
“It was...different, Mistress.” His voice was even, controlled.
She moved around him, close enough to catch his scent but not touch. “It looks good on you.”
He inhaled. “Thank you, Mistress.”
She paused at his back. She longed to smooth her palms over the rounded mounds of his ass, but they were blocked by his hands. The memory of their firmness was etched in her memory. Instead she ran one nail down the line of his spine. The shiver that followed raced from his shoulders to his feet.
“Do you want to keep it on while we play?” She blew a trail of air from shoulder to shoulder.
He gasped, twitching forward before he forced his spine straight again. “If it pleases you, Mistress.” His reply was lower, raspy.
“Should I tell you what I have planned?” She was teasing him. The tension built with each almost-touch. She turned her head so the ends of her hair brushed over his arm.