Caged by Sean Michael

Author:Sean Michael [Michael, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Torquere Press
Published: 2011-01-16T17:22:25.198000+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Sometimes, when he was very angry, he wanted nothing more than to chain Tigre to the wall and whip him until he couldn't move his arm anymore.

He never whipped Tigre when he felt like that.

Tigre would not complain if he did, but neither of them would enjoy it. So on days like that he would fuck Tigre's mouth and then fuck Tigre's ass until he was too tired to move and then he'd let Tigre clean him and put him to bed.

He saved whipping for days like today. Days when he woke up feeling good and strong and had nowhere to be and nothing to do. Days when the sun shone brightly and his food tasted fresh and the soft sound of Tigre's bare feet on the floor made him hard.

Tigre sat next to him, slowly peeling fruit for Palin, eating when he was bid. Palin watched him, anticipation making his skin tingle, making him smile and his toes curl.

The light fell upon the dark, sharp-edged stain that bordered half of Tigre's face, soft blues deepening into indigo into ebony. Sunk deep into the olive skin, each mark held a measure of pain and skill and rank.

The peel of the fruit fell away in one long strand, then another piece was offered to him, fingers sure and steady. He fed directly from the thick fingers, letting his tongue slide along the thick pads, eyes hot upon Tigre's face.

Melted chocolate eyes were fastened upon his lips and the unmarked cheek flushed to rose. Tigre made no sound, but nostrils flared, lips parted and slicked by a wet pink tongue.

"Oh...” His balls tightened, cock pulsing within his jeans. “W-we are going to p-p-play today, my Tigre."

"Yes, Eiba. As you wish.” Tigre's voice was a low rumbling, danger held at bay by only his will, his control.

He reached out and stroked his fingers along the tattoo, tracing it. “Go and prepare the chains and choose a whip. I will be along in a few minutes."

"Yes, my Eiba.” With an almost unnoticeable nuzzle into his hand, Tigre stood and disappeared silently, bowl and fruit in hand.

Palin stood and took off his clothes, folding them neatly. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and his hands and his cock, the cloth rough and good on his heated flesh. He took his time. Usually he and Tigre prepared together, undressing each other and performing the ritual of brushing Tigre's long hair; today they would prepare alone, and he wanted to make sure Tigre was ready when he went to him.

He looked at the sky for a moment, the bright sunshine almost hurting his eyes, and then went to the Room to find Tigre.

The heavy chains were dangling; the thick, single-tailed braided whip with the thick cock-shaped carved handle was resting upon the low table, along with a glass of clear water and a clean towel when he entered. Tigre knelt silent upon the floor, beautiful hair bound up and out of the way, leaving nape and back exposed and vulnerable.

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