By His Rules Page 2

  waterwheel, a duck hunt.

  Aiden didn’t have too much time to dwell on decor.

  He was shepherded into the kitchen and ordered to

  stand in the center of the room while Scott fetched a beer

  and a bottled water from the fridge. Scott opened his

  beer on the table’s edge and sat down. He swigged his

  beer, watching Aiden.

  “Strip,” he said quietly.

  Aiden pulled off his T-shirt and then undid his

  jeans, sliding them to the floor. He tried to step out of

  them, but his left leg got caught in the bunched denim

  and he floundered until he was able to reach down and

  untangle himself. He hesitated at the waistband of his

  briefs. There was something terrifying yet wickedly hot

  about the idea of standing naked in this quiet room, with

  Scott’s gaze on him.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  Aiden flushed and removed his underwear. He

  held on to his clothes, not sure if Scott wanted him to

  fold them and place them somewhere.

  “Drop them,” Scott ordered. “Hands behind your

  head.”

  Aiden dropped the clothes and clasped his hands

  behind his head, utterly exposed. His cock strained

  upward, as red as he imagined his face must be, its web

  of veins visibly pulsing. He felt Scott look him up and

  down, and struggled to keep his gaze on the floor. He

  knew he had a hot body, slim and well-proportioned

  with softly defined muscles and pale, smooth skin.

  “Nice enough,” Scott muttered.

  Aiden felt a flash of resentment. Nice enough? You

  couldn’t find a better-looking sub at Obey, unless you

  really had a thing for barely legal blond supertwinks.

  “You’re too thin. Could do with some bulking up.

  Pretty hips. And I like your hair. What’s that color called

  —like a reddish brown?” Scott snapped his fingers.

  “Chestnut. Like a horse.”

  Aiden tried not to let it bother him that Scott was

  sitting there appraising him as though he were an

  animal. He reminded himself that every minute Scott

  spent assessing him was a minute Scott didn’t spend

  torturing him.

  “Turn around,” Scott said. “Let me see your ass.”

  Aiden turned.

  “Nice. Small but well-shaped. Needs some color,

  but I’ll fix that.” He stood and approached.

  Aiden jumped as Scott placed a hand on his butt.

  “Think I’ll have a hard time stuffing my cock up

  that tight little ass?”

  “No, Sir. I mean, I’ll take it.”

  Despite how hard the conversation was making

  Aiden, there was something ridiculous about it too. He

  didn’t like when tops talked about their monster dicks or

  how Aiden’d better take them to the hilt without

  whining. He liked the psychological aspect of BDSM

  play, but there were always parts of any scene that felt

  so… fake.

  Aiden’s cock bobbed against his belly, and he

  wished to God Scott would touch him. As if reading his

  mind, Scott said, “You should know your dick doesn’t

  concern me in the least. Your ass and mouth are what I

  care about. I’m going to use you however I like, all night,

  and I could give a shit if you squirt or not. Face me.”

  Aiden did.

  Scott’s dark eyes glittered, and Aiden swallowed on

  a wave of arousal.

  “What’s your safe word?”

  “Mushroom,” Aiden said.

  Scott laughed. “Mushroom.” He grabbed the water

  bottle from the table and uncapped it. “Sit down.” He

  took a seat himself and handed Aiden the water. “Drink

  that. And tell me about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” Aiden asked. “Sir?”

  “What’s your name, where’re you from, what are

  your hobbies… shit like that.”

  Aiden took a nervous swig of water. This was

  different from the scenarios he was used to. Because

  Scott was different from most tops. Most tops were like

  Daddy—they drooled over Aiden like a prize, could

  hardly wait to get him through the door before they were

  on him, pawing, yanking, panting… as though if they

  didn’t claim him right away, he might disappear. They

  often wanted to kiss Aiden or pet him, make him feel

  good so that he’d want to come home with them again.

  That wasn’t what Aiden was after. He wanted a true top,

  in control and insecurity-free. He wanted to feel owned,

  used, and utterly debased.

  “My name’s Aiden,” he began.

  “Shithead,” Scott said.

  “What?”

  “Your name’s Shithead.” Scott said it as though he

  was correcting a minor grammatical error in Aiden’s

  speech.

  “Oh,” Aiden said uncertainly. “Okay.”

  “While you’re here, your name’s Shithead. Drink

  that water.”

  Aiden took a few gulps.

  “Where’re you from, Shithead?”

  “Tremont? It’s about fifteen minutes north of here.”

  Aiden drank until a little less than half the bottle

  remained.

  “What do you do?” Scott asked.

  “I work at a restaurant right now. But I studied

  theater in college. I think I—”

  Scott snorted into his beer. “That’s why you’re so

  popular.”

  Aiden tilted his head, not sure what Scott meant.

  “I’ve heard about you. You do it all. Choirboy,

  army recruit, rent boy, slave… That must be why you’re

  so good at role-play. You’re an actor.”

  Aiden wasn’t sure whether Scott was mocking him

  or complimenting him, so he kept quiet and drank the

  rest of the water, ignoring his bladder’s protest.

  Scott got another bottle from the fridge and put it in

  front of him.

  “So let’s get your story straight,” Scott said. “Your

  name’s Shithead. You crawled out of my asshole for the

  sole purpose of serving me. Your hobbies are sucking

  my cock, taking my cock up your ass, and screaming

  while I strap your butt raw. Got it?”

  In spite of the water, Aiden’s throat went dry. “Yes,

  Sir,” he managed.

  “Good.” Scott reached out and stroked Aiden’s jaw

  with one finger. “Come on. Let’s tack you up.”

  Scott took Aiden by the arm and pulled him from

  the kitchen down a narrow hall. They stopped at the last

  room on the right. Scott pushed open the door, flipped

  on the light, and led Aiden through the bedroom and

  into the attached bathroom. He spun Aiden so Aiden

  stood in the doorway, facing the bedroom.

  Aiden heard Scott open a cabinet in the bathroom

  behind him, and a minute later a thick collar was placed

  around his neck and fastened snugly. It was so wide

  Aiden could barely move his head. Two ropes with steel

  clips hung from either side of the doorway, and Scott

  snapped the ropes to rings on either side of the collar so

  that Aiden was cross-tied like a horse. Maybe “tack you

  up” hadn’t been a metaphor.<
br />
  Scott went back to the cabinet and then reached

  around Aiden with what looked like a long, narrow cage

  with a ring at the base. Aiden knew it was a chastity

  device for his cock, and the idea of being blue balled

  with a full bladder sent a wave of desperation through

  him.

  He gasped as Scott gripped the base of his cock and

  began working him. “Oh yeah,” Aiden breathed, riding

  Scott’s hand. “You’re making me so hot. Please let me

  come for you, Sir… ” He doubled over in shock and

  agony as Scott slapped his upright dick with an open

  palm. Only the cross-ties kept him from dropping to his

  knees. “Ow!” he shouted. “Fuck… ”

  Scott smacked his ass once, twice, three times, so

  hard that Aiden’s eyes watered. “Nice try, slut. Behave,

  or I’ll land you another one on that twitchy dick of

  yours.” He fitted the cock cage over Aiden’s dick and

  secured it.

  Scott pressed on the area just above Aiden’s groin.

  Aiden winced and drew back, his body bumping against

  Scott’s. Scott pushed harder.

  “Need to piss?” Scott asked in Aiden’s ear.

  “Yes, Sir,” Aiden whispered.

  Scott backed away, and Aiden heard him take

  something out of a box. Aiden battled the urge to ask

  Scott what he was doing. Scott ordered him to bend

  forward and stick his ass out. Aiden did, heart thudding.

  A second later, something cold nudged his entrance.

  “What is it?” Aiden asked before he could stop

  himself.

  Scott reached around and held the object in front of

  Aiden. It was a well-lubed butt plug. Medium-sized—

  not too intimidating, except for the device attached to the

  plug’s base. It looked like four burrs strung together on a

  flexible wire—four small, bristly spheres. The burr chain

  arced out from the plug’s base, then bent back in so that

  it ran parallel to the plug. Scott let Aiden study it for a

  few seconds; then his hand disappeared, and Aiden felt

  the tip of the plug seeking his entrance once more.

  Scott spread Aiden’s cheeks wide and teased his

  opening with the plug’s narrow end, fucking him with

  the tip until Aiden finally let out the breath he’d been

  holding and relaxed enough that Scott could slide the

  plug inside him. It was always strange to adjust to a

  plug, and Aiden shifted, trying to get comfortable. Then

  Scott spread his cheeks once more and positioned the

  flexible burr chain along his crack and against the soft

  skin between his asshole and balls.

  When Aiden moved, the burr chain scraped and

  pricked his crack and taint. He danced for a moment in

  the cross-ties, trying to contain the sensation. The burrs

  ended right at the back of his balls, and the pain each

  time his balls nudged the bristles was maddening. To

  make matters worse, Scott slipped a black mask over his

  eyes. With his sight gone, it was impossible not to

  concentrate on the itchy pain between his legs.

  Scott ducked under one of the cross ties and stood

  in front of Aiden. Aiden could smell the beer on Scott’s

  breath. Scott didn’t say anything, just stroked Aiden’s

  cheek for a moment, and Aiden was suddenly as

  frightened and frustrated as he could ever remember

  being. He had to piss, his dick was caged, the skin

  between his legs was being cruelly pricked and stung by

  the burr chain, the collar was too tight, and he couldn’t

  see. And here was Scott, obviously loving his pain,

  reveling in his helplessness.

  His tears flowed from under the blindfold and

  Aiden tried to move a hand to his face to stop them

  before Scott saw, but Scott caught his wrist and placed

  Aiden’s arm back at his side. Scott cupped the back of

  Aiden’s head, drawing him forward as much as the ties

  would allow, until Aiden’s face was pressed against the

  big man’s chest.

  “I know,” Scott murmured. “It’s new. It hurts. But

  it’s exciting too. Isn’t it?”

  Aiden, all his pride gone, sniffed hard and nodded.

  Scott’s heartbeat was slow and soothing, and Aiden liked

  the feeling of Scott’s hand in his hair, not pulling, just

  resting. He calmed suddenly. He could do this. He could

  do this for Scott.

  Scott pulled away and unclipped the cross ties,

  then led him—by the hand this time—into the bedroom.

  “Kneel,” Scott ordered, and Aiden did, wincing at the

  horrible prickling between his legs.

  He heard the creak of springs as Scott sat on the

  bed, the quick purr of a zipper undone. Scott’s fingers

  wound in his hair once more, pulling his head forward

  until Aiden’s searching mouth found Scott’s hard,

  bobbing cock.

  “Suck me.”

  Scott’s dick was thick and deliciously curved.

  Aiden put his lips around it and licked up the shaft,

  flicking his tongue against the head. He lapped at the

  long, swollen vein on the organ’s underside and swirled

  his tongue around and around his prize. He drew back

  and kissed the slit, then began pounding the small,

  sensitive opening with the tip of his tongue.

  Scott’s fingers caught in his hair so fiercely and

  suddenly that Aiden moaned. Scott began to fuck

  Aiden’s mouth, grunting and slamming, making Aiden

  gag. He kneed Aiden in the jaw as he thrust, and he

  released Aiden’s hair only long enough to cuff the back

  of his head and order Aiden to take more of him. Aiden

  took the battering, determined not to lose focus. He

  sucked and swallowed around Scott’s cock, taking Scott

  deeper, deeper…

  He was so lost in his performance that the sting of

  the quirt came as a surprise. The double leather thongs

  snapped against his naked ass, making him jump. Pain

  from the burr chain between his legs shot through him at

  the movement. Aiden swallowed a cry.

  “The way you’re going, Shithead, I won’t come

  until Christmas,” Scott said.

  Aiden sucked harder. The quirt stung his ass, his

  thighs, his hips and back until Aiden wanted to sob with

  frustration. He was hard and humiliated, frantic and

  tired. There was no pleasing Scott, who cursed him,

  called him names, and whipped him.

  Finally Aiden deserted technique, forgot finesse,

  and attacked Scott’s cock as though it were the last

  source of nourishment on earth. He kissed, sucked,

  slurped, and used his hand to roll the heavy balls and

  stroke the soft skin behind them. He felt sloppy,

  unskilled, and overeager, but finally Scott tossed the

  quirt aside, grabbed Aiden’s hair in both hands, and

  shouted, “Yeah. Oh, yeah.”

  Scott jerked and shot his cum down Aiden’s throat.

  Aiden didn’t stop teasing the head of Scott’s cock with

  his tongue, and Scott didn’t stop his long, slow thrusts

  down Aiden’s throat until long after he was emptied.


  Scott pulled out. He yanked off Aiden’s blindfold

  and raked his fingers through Aiden’s hair, forcing Aiden

  to look up at him. He spit, the saliva landing just below

  Aiden’s right eye. Aiden flinched but made no move to

  wipe his face. Scott watched him. His expression was

  disdainful, but there was something else there.

  Admiration? Pride? “Into the bed, Shithead,” he said

  finally.

  Aiden obeyed.

  Chapter Two

  Aiden woke very early the next morning, not sure

  where he was. He tried to move, but his wrists were

  bound behind him. He was lying on a pile of towels on

  an unfamiliar floor, facing a wall. His ass was sore inside

  and out, his arms ached, and his throat felt bruised.

  He was on Scott Runge’s floor.

  Scott Runge had taken him home, stripped him,

  beaten him, fucked his throat and ass. Scott Runge had

  pinched his tits, kneaded his swollen bladder, tied his

  wrists behind him, and left him here to sleep on the floor.

  He’d made Aiden beg for the privilege of being used.

  He’d called Aiden Shithead, spit on him, and demanded

  to know if Aiden was capable of doing anything right.

  Scott Runge had also kissed Aiden and stroked his

  sweaty hair back from his face. He’d led Aiden to the

  bathroom and rubbed circles on Aiden’s stomach as

  Aiden experienced the unparalleled relief of pissing after

  holding it for so long. Scott had removed the horrible

  butt plug and applied salve to the skin that had been

  scratched raw by the burr chain. He’d rubbed the welts

  his belt had left on Aiden’s ass and told Aiden that his

  pain threshold was impressive.

  Aiden’s cock grew at the memory, and he would

  have given anything to be able to touch himself. He

  stared at the wall, listening. Where was Scott? Was he

  going to play with Aiden some more before letting him

  go? Aiden wanted to go home, wanted to shower and eat

  and crawl into bed and jack off to memories of Scott until

  it was time for him to go to work. He tried to roll over,

  but it was difficult with his arms bound behind him.

  Scott entered the bedroom. Aiden held his breath as

  the man crouched beside him and undid the restraints

  around his wrists and ankles. Aiden slowly flexed his

  arms. He wondered if he should get up or lie here and

  await Scott’s instructions. Scott took Aiden’s wrists and

  rubbed them, bringing some circulation back. Then he