Choice of Cages by Parker Avrile & Alec Stark

Author:Parker Avrile & Alec Stark [Avrile, Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay leather romance, enemies to lovers gay romance, prison gay romance, BDSM romance, bdsm, cops and robbers romance
Publisher: Paris April Press
Published: 2017-07-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

THORNE

Three days of torture. How could I take a year of this? And yet I wasn't going to give Lane Lacompte the satisfaction of seeing me cry like a little girl.

Fucking safeword. I wouldn't use the fucking safeword. I wouldn't even think it in the privacy of my own head. I'd leave this place at my own time on my own terms. Not because I'd safeworded. Not because I'd broken.

When I left this place, it would be because I waltzed out the door of my own free will.

Sure, I had to break down and beg for food. I wasn't even going to give him that much, but then I decided I'd just be playing into his hands if I refused to eat.

Bad enough that when he came home...

Home? Wait, what? Where did that word come from?

Bad enough that when he came back to the dungeon that evening, he found me shackled in my own spunk. Some lackey had come from time to time to move the clothespin around on my toes and to check my shackles. Every time I thought I'd made some progress in getting loose, he'd sashay in to adjust the buckles and to shift the pinch of the clamp.

Lane was a busy man. Too busy to see to my so-called retraining. It wasn't quite what I'd expected. I thought I was a central player in his mental life. Apparently, I was an afterthought. He didn't even have the time to torture me himself. Instead, he sent in the fucking lackey.

Fine. Fucking fine. If he thought I was going to tolerate much more of this, Lane Lacompte was in for the surprise of his life.

I do have a skill set, and it was high time I employed it. In the dark of the third night, I made some adjustments to the video feed. He probably thought the thing in my cell was just a camera lens, but it had a way to communicate with the internet, which means I had a way to communicate with the internet. True, it was on a primitive level, but it was enough to set up a repeating scene of me going into the shower, steaming the place up, the faint pump of a hand moving up and down... the implication being I was taking a nice long shower to take care of business.

Which I'd actually done the morning before when the original footage was being recorded.

Water isn't slippery in the way lube is. After grinding myself into the bench the day before, I had to hold myself with a certain care. Had to resist the temptation to pump hard and fast. Instead, I barely closed my fist around my throbbing hard-on. Applied the minimum possible amount of pressure. Stroked myself from base to head to base. Eventually, I began to focus on the crown, cupping the palm of my hand over it to feel the slit gaping open to spit out a steady stream of slickness.

So tempting to move faster, harder, but I forced myself to take my time.

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