My brain reeled.  He couldn't tell anyone!  He was in charge, I knew that.  I wanted that.  But I had always expected this to be private, between him and me.  He had said he wouldn't tell anyone, hadn't he?  More than once.  He'd already humiliated me, in front of the old guy and the girl at the porn shop.  Even one of Ryan's neighbors had seen me naked outside on the doorstep one morning.  I'd jerked off at the mall for him.  I'd driven home from his house covered in my own spunk.  Did he mean to tell someone who knew me?  Whom I knew?  He couldn't!  It was not fair!  I had given him everything!  My mouth, my ass, even my cock!  He couldn't ruin my life!

My cock throbbed in its plastic encasement.  No!  I slammed my fist down on the top of my desk.  I sat there, staring at the picture, at the words.  I sat there naked, wearing only a chastity device and a leather collar.  The chastity device was his; he had put it on me, he had locked it, he held the key.  The collar was his; he used it to mark his property, his ownership of me and my subservience to him.  I raised my tingling hand to it, and felt how perfectly it fit my neck.  Not so tight as to restrict airflow or speech or even eating, but tight enough to hold its place beneath my Adam's apple without sliding, tight enough that every millimeter of its length touched my skin without gaping.  I took it off and looked at it.  It was about a half inch wide, maybe three quarters.  Plain, brown leather.  A brass clasp.  It was smooth in my fingers.

Only once had I worn it in public: at the mall, when I'd masturbated by the food court for him.  Then, the collar of the trench coat I had worn had covered it in the back, and my slouching, shameful posture as I kept my head bowed had at least partially obscured it from the front.  I remembered it would have been in plain view as I sprinted through the parking lot that day, but anyone who had seen me then would have been more fascinated with the cum splotches on my khakis than what I wore on my neck.  Now he wanted me to wear it in front of my parents.  And my uncle, aunt, and their kids.  I smiled wryly at the thought of explaining why I was wearing it, explaining it in front of my prepubescent cousins.

My eyes turned back to the monitor. "And prepare for others to know what we know, too."  I read the words again.  Slowly, it dawned on me.  I had no choice, really.  The decision wasn't mine.  If he wanted to out me, whether he just wanted everyone to know I was gay or he wanted to go all the way and have them know I was his bitch, he could do it without my permission.  He had the DVD.  What would happen if I told him I refused to let anyone know?  All he had to do was forward this email, the same one he had sent me, to whomever he chose.  He was in control.  It was not something I could turn off.  It was not something I could place limits on.  If I wanted him, if I wanted to be his, I had to play by his rules, and he could make them up as he went along.  The question was, did I want to be his at this cost?

I thought of his cock, the way it felt and tasted, and the loose sack holding his balls, but I also thought about the rest of him.  His angular features, his smooth chest, his skinny body, his deep green eyes behind those silver, wire framed glasses, I'd become so familiar with them all.  I thought about him as a lonely, unappreciated kid to some rich, jet setting parents.  Was that why he was doing this now?  Because he was pissed off and he wanted to lash out at whomever was handy?  Was it because he was lonely and bitter, and he saw me as a popular guy with a secret, whom he could make lonely and bitter, too?

I pictured walking down hallways at school, the people who greeted me now turning their backs on me as I passed.  I imagined coming home to the icy silence of my parents.  And I might be spending a lot more time at home in that icy silence, too, if my social life evaporated.  Or would I?  Would I be with Ryan?  Would any of the rest of it matter if I were?  After all, wasn't that pretty much Ryan's life?  That made me remember the first night we had been together, the night he had blackmailed me.  I remembered how we had kissed in his kitchen, how mechanically I had responded.  I remembered how he had made me suck him and how he had fucked me.  He had been resolute, to be sure, but he hadn't been abusive.  Not like he could have been, given the situation.

I remembered how good it had felt to be fucked that first time, how I had cum violently, how we had fallen asleep together.  I remembered waking up – he had been watching me sleep – and as he read something on my face, his demeanor had gone completely cold.  I knew what he had read, too.  Horror.  Disgust.  Contempt.  Rejection.  He had dismissed me.  He had cut me loose, given me back the evidence of my cheating.  He had wanted nothing more to do with me.  And then I had gone back to him to be fucked.  No wonder he derided me.  No wonder he had reacted with surprise and confusion when I had kissed him, when I had taken the initiative to please him the last time I had seen him.

Eventually, it occurred to me that Alex Cheswick, pre-Christmas Break, was gone.  That Alex Cheswick hadn't known he was gay.  That Alex Cheswick hadn't wanted to suck cock, or get fucked, or be dominated by the scrawny, blond sophomore.  I might well be treated differently now, but I was different.  I now knew who I was, and I never had before.  That didn't mean I wanted to be a social reject, ostracized by my friends, but it was who I am.  How they reacted was going to be their choice.  I couldn't control them.  I couldn't control anything anymore.  Ryan controlled me, and I wanted him to.

I clicked the reply button.  I had to finish my assignment.  "I'm afraid to tell anyone," I typed.  "I don't want anyone to know.  But I know it's not my decision."  I clicked send and put the collar back on.

Christmas morning.  I woke up nervous.  I was nervous because I always was, just like a little kid.  There's something about Christmas that does that, I guess.  Maybe some people grow out of it.  Not me. And, this time, I was nervous because I had been naked and hard all night and because I knew I was going to see Ryan tonight.  Maybe I would get to suck him off.  Maybe I would get fucked.  Maybe he would let me cum.  I was nervous because I wanted to know what he had in mind for me, what he had meant by others knowing what he and I knew.  I was nervous because I had to wear Ryan's collar all day and I hadn't thought of how I was going to pull it off yet.

I stood in front of my closet.  I wished I had a turtleneck like Ryan had worn at the mall.  It was ironic that I'd never wanted one before; I'd thought turtlenecks were too gay.  I took out one of my oxford button-downs, a deep, French blue.  I put it on and checked the collar.  It covered the leather on the back and sides, but not the front unless I fastened the top button.  I debated it, but I never did that.  It would be too conspicuous.  The only way out was a tie.  The shirt and khakis wouldn't be too surprising; I wore them all the time.  Sure, usually not at 8:00 on Christmas morning, but I could probably get by without a big deal.  But a tie?  My hand brushed my bare ass as I tucked the shirttail into my khakis.  I'd never worn a jock strap Christmas morning, either, but I'd never been locked into a chastity device that needed to be molded down tighter to my body before.

I reached up to the closet shelf and pulled down a couple of sweaters.  One was white, a crew neck.  It might work.  I pulled it on.  Kind of warm, but, hey, it was December.  Pulling the sweater slightly back on my shoulders raised its collar a bit, which helped hold the collar of my shirt closed.  Maybe a little risky, but it was the best I was going to get away with.  I checked myself in the mirror on the back of my closet door.  I was pretty overdressed compared to the pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt I typically opened presents in, but this was standard fare by dinner.  I was skipping a step.  That's all it was.  I'd woken up early, and I didn't want to start without my parents, so I'd just gone ahead and showered and shaved while I waited for them.  I could sell that.

I looked in the mirror and remembered doing the same thing last night.  Naked.  Contemplating Ryan's ownership of me.  I felt my cock, which I'd only very recently and only with great persistence willed to soften, stir.  Hastily, I closed the closet door, opened the door to the hall, and stepped out, carrying the presents I had bought and wrapped to stick under the tree.

My sense of trepidation grew as I drove to Ryan's house.  All day, I had been fine, even though I spent a lot of conscious effort turning my thoughts to other things whenever he, my assignment, or the prospect of sexual release came to mind.  I was able to deflect with feigned insouciance both attention to my morning attire and the repeated attempts of my eight year old cousin to sit on my lap after my uncle's family arrived.  Even through dinner I had only momentary pangs of butterflies in my stomach.  Now, alone, in my car and on my way, I couldn't push my worry or lust aside.  As I parked in his driveway, my nerves were shot but my cock was rock hard in spite of the cage that imprisoned it.

I got out of the car, took my position on the front stair, and disrobed as had become familiar practice.  Naked, I rang the bell.  Minutes passed as I shivered but eventually the door opened.  Ryan was standing in a blood red robe, his hair still wet, apparently fresh from the shower.  He looked amazing in it, his blond hair and glasses softly reflecting the light with the smooth, pale skin of his arms, legs, neck, and face exposed around the margins of the soft cotton.

"Not a word," he directed as he motioned me through the doorway.  He reached over my shoulder with one hand to close the door behind me, and turned me around, facing away from him, with the other.  The door shut, he pushed me tightly against the cool wood, and stepped in closer.  I could feel the heat of his body emanating through the inch or so that separated us, and I felt his breath on my neck.  Holding me to the door with one hand pressed between my shoulder blades, he untied his bathrobe and moved up against me.  His cock was hard as it pressed into my ass cheeks, and I whimpered softly as my own erection was constrained inside the plastic rings.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he whispered in my ear.  Remembering his order not to speak, I nodded.  "Do you want me to fuck you here?" he asked, his mouth moving closer to my ear.  I nodded.  His body was hot against mine, my own flesh still cool from its exposure.  I could tell by his heavy breathing that he was ready to take me, right then and there.  I knew, after three days, that I sure as hell was ready to be fucked, too.  All I wanted was for him to unlock the damned padlock trapping my cock, but I knew better than to ask.  I whimpered again as the bars kept biting into me, my cock head wedged tightly up against the end of the cage.

Ryan's hand never left the spot between my shoulder blades, but I felt his other hand slide down my side, then slip between my crotch and the door.  "I was right," he said softly.  "You are getting some stubble.  We're going to take that off, right, bitch?"  I nodded again.  "And you remember that I said that there would be a price if you didn't keep it shaved yourself, right?"  I groaned.  I had forgotten.  Reluctantly, I nodded again.  His hand slipped around my hip onto my ass cheek.  I felt him line up his cock into my crack, pointing into my hole.  His hand then moved to my throat, his fingers and thumb resting where my neck met my collarbone, just below the collar.  I felt him lean away, the hand on my back holding me to the door, the hand on my throat giving him the leverage he needed.

"This is the price," he said.  "Dry.  And with the CB-2000 on."  With that I felt him thrust up into me with his hips.  The friction was incredible as he forced his long rod into my hole.  I hadn't had anything in there for days, and the absence of lube made the pain unimaginable.  I cried out as he sank himself into me in one stroke.  The sensation did nothing to discourage my hard on.  If anything, it swelled more with more persistence against its prison, and I felt the distinct sensation of precum oozing from my slit, greasing the terminal plastic rods.  For the first time in days, the pain of the device cramping my erection was drowned out – by the fire in my ass.  Like the first time he had fucked me, Ryan had caused what felt like a muscle cramp in my anal ring, only this time he took no time to allow me to acclimate to the sensation or relax.  And, this time, without lube, the burn extended up the length of my cunt to the depth of his penetration.  He buried himself inside me and tears came to my eyes.

He held himself there for a moment, more to enjoy the sensation of my ass on his dick and my hole clamped around its root than to give me a break.  His chest was still leaning away from my back, his body curved like a bow as he stood on the balls of his feet to press his straw-colored pubes against my bare ass.  I knew I could have thrown him off me.  I knew I could end it at any time; I was stronger, taller, more athletic.  But I was his bitch.  I knew it, and he knew it, and we both knew I wanted it.  It might have physically resembled rape, the way he took me without mercy or care for my pleasure, but emotionally – even despite the pain – it was something I needed, and for my disobedience, had earned.

He pulled back, almost all the way out, and I grunted from deep within my chest.  The motion pulled my hips back with him, back away from the door.  He pistoned back into me with greater force than the first stroke and my breath caught in my throat.  The plastic clutching my cock slammed into the door, forcing my cock to bend down and away, the impact bruising the skin between the cock ring-like base and my pubic bone.  He repeated the motion once more, and then pulled completely out.  I felt him step away from me, and I slumped limply when his hand released me from the door.  I felt him take my shoulder and turn me again, and I dropped my eyes shamefully to his feet as I faced him.  He took my chin in one hand and tilted my face to his.  With the heel of my palm, I cleared the tears from my eyes as he looked intently at me.  His expression was stern but not angry or malicious.

"Now you know that I can do it, fuck you so it hurts.  And you know that you'll take it.  Don't make me do it again.  Now get upstairs and fix the problem."  I opened my mouth to apologize, but he caught me.  "I said not a word, didn't I?  So go," he said as he released my chin and pointed up the stairs.  I lowered my head and turned to the stairs, headed for the third floor.

In the bathroom, I placed my collar on the vanity, I turned on the shower, and stepped in.  The wet-dry electric razor was on a shelf of the shower stand, so I took it and set about my task.  It was impossible with the chastity device on for me to get under my balls to shave the underside of my sack.  I started shearing off the stubble that had grown between my hips and over the base of my cock, and as I finished the shower door slid open and Ryan, naked, stepped in with me.  He held a key with which he unlocked the cock cage, and for the first time since Monday my cock sprang loose.  It immediately snapped up to attention, and the freedom felt incredible.  Ryan watched me as I maneuvered the razor over my sack, pulling it down with one hand to tighten up the skin.  He then reached over and took the razor from me.

"Bend over and pull your cheeks apart," he said.  I obeyed and he quickly eliminated any regrowth from my ass.  As he turned off the razor, he slipped a finger into my ass.  My hole was still sore from the punitive penetration in the foyer, but the warm water provided enough lubrication to allow me to enjoy feeling something inside me again.  Leaving one hand on my ass, Ryan replaced the razor in the shower stand and moved in behind me.  With his free hand, he pulled me by my shoulder to a standing position.  His finger fucked its way in and out of my ass as he pressed me forward into the cold shower tile.  When I could move forward no further, he added a second finger and increased the speed with which they entered and retreated.  My cock throbbed, firmly sandwiched between my abdomen and the wall of the shower.  I moaned loudly at the sensation, and began to rock my hips against his hand, dragging my cock up and down the wet tile.

"If you cum before I tell you to, that cage is going back on and it may not come off before break is over," Ryan warned as he pulled his fingers out.  He quickly stepped up and resumed the position he had taken downstairs:  one hand between my shoulder blades holding me against the wall, the other at the base of my throat.  He thrust into me in a single stroke, but the water cascading over us and the loosening of my hole with his fingers made all the difference between the fuck downstairs and the fuck I was getting now.  I whimpered not with pain but with pleasure as his dick repeatedly banged its way over my prostate and into my guts.  He fucked quickly, and every slow, lingering withdrawal pulled my hips slightly down; every forceful, determined re-entry rammed them back up, masturbating my cock.

My moans became pleas for him to stop, to slow down, because I could feel the cum churning in my balls.  The base of the cage, the plastic ring that bound my balls up to my cock like a cock ring, was not helping to delay my pent-up orgasm as my oversensitive and long-deprived dick slipped up and down over the smooth, wet tile.  "God, Sir, please!  I can't hold it back!  I can't!  It's been too long!  Please, stop!  Oh, God, it feels so fucking good!"

Ryan said nothing but his grunting became more primitive behind me, louder and more urgent.  I tried to clamp my muscles down to hold back the flood of cum I felt building up.  The tightening effect on my ass did nothing to impede the progress of his rod into or out of me, but I felt his fingers and thumb press subconsciously harder onto each collarbone as he applied more force to his stroke to penetrate me.  I had to escape the shower wall.  I couldn't survive a week in the cage, a week without relief, the penalty that would follow if I came.  As if he read my mind, Ryan suddenly moved both hands to my shoulders and pulled me back from the wall.  His cock was buried inside me as we backed away, and he leaned forward to bend me over.  I bent at the knees and waist, resting my palms on my kneecaps as he resumed his frenetic pace.  The pressure in my ass and the pounding of my prostate continued unabated, but at least there was no friction on my cock, which now pulsed and drooled in mid-air.

I felt some relief for a few minutes, although I knew I was too close, that anything could set me off, as long as his shaft kept up its alternating motion through my ass lips, as long as his head kept pummeling my love nut.  I could feel his cock swelling inside me, and I feared that his orgasm alone would be enough to set me off, when I felt one hand clamp around my balls.  A dull ache quickly spread up my gut as he held them tightly, not crushing them but applying enough pressure to make me clench my hole and cheeks around his cock.  It was also enough to distract me from the sensation as he came inside me.  "Fuck!" he shouted.  "Fuck, bitch, I'm unloading in your pussy again!  Jesus Christ, you have one hot, slutty, fucking hole!"  He almost collapsed on my back as the water flowed over our bodies.  He left his rod soaking in his load in my hole as he panted to catch his breath.  As the minutes passed, I held us both up, and then I felt him slowly pull out of me.

He reached over and turned the water off and then slid the shower door open.  He reached for one of the oversized cotton towels hanging on the towel stand and handed it to me.  "Dry me off," he ordered.  I gingerly started at his head, tousling his hair, and progressed down his chest.  He turned away from me and I repeated on his back, and knelt down to wipe the beads from his ass, legs, and feet.  He turned and I worked my way back up the front of his legs, softly dried his cock and balls, and patted his pubes.  I looked up into his eyes as I knelt there, and as he looked down at me, I glanced to his cock, still half-hard in front of my face.  I looked back at his face and sought permission.  I could see the deliberation in his gaze and, after a pause, he nodded.  I smiled in thanks and leaned in to take the spongy head between my lips.  My eyes remained locked on his as my tongue slowly teased around the hot plum.

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, a long, hushed sigh escaping from his lips as I sucked more shaft between mine.  When my nose was pressed against his pubic bone, I clamped my lips tight and emptied the air from my mouth, sucking on him hard.  I could feel the blood flowing, causing his cock to lengthen into my throat and swell.  Without releasing any of the vacuum I had created, I began to pull my head back away from him.  He groaned loudly as his eyes opened, the skin of his dick growing taut as I pulled away.  He buried his hands in my sopping hair, and I tasted a trickle of cum, some residue left in his tube that I had sucked out.  As I felt the rim of the head lock between my lips, I firmly pressed the tip of my tongue against the underside of his knob and rubbed vigorously from side to side.  Ryan's jaw dropped and he tried to pull me off.  For the first time in the week since I'd known I was his slave, I resisted.

I raised my hands to cup his ass and held on tightly.  I slurped his rod back down into my throat and tried to swallow him whole.  Next, I repeated the suction and the long, slow pull back from his crotch.  His legs quivered.  "Christ, stop it, Alex!  It's too much!" he yelled and he tried to wrench my head away.  I wasn't giving in to him this time.  I was stronger than he was, and I knew what I wanted.  His cock throbbed and fresh precum dribbled when I repeated the tongue work on the head.  I tried to force the tip of it into his slit and he closed his eyes and threw his head back.  "Stop it," he said again, but faintly this time.

I kept up the pattern until my knees were sore from kneeling in the shower.  He had stopped protesting and had started rocking his hips with me as I alternately deep throated then sucked my way down his shaft.  His fingers massaged my scalp as I worked, his head back, almost perpendicular to the floor, occasionally releasing throaty moans through his gaping mouth.  I pleasured him mercilessly.  I didn't care that he had just cum in my ass, he was young and he could afford to lose another load in my mouth.  I wanted to taste him.  I wanted to know I had made him cum with both my cunt and my cock sucking mouth.  It was when I took one hand from his ass cheek and moved to caress behind his ball sack that he gave in.  He was mine as I sucked him dry.  Unlike his lusty cry while fucking me, it was his turn to whimper as I pulled the load from the depths of his nuts, through his tube, and out from his slit.  At least half a dozen shots fired, and even then I would not relent, suckling on his pulsing head even after the last trickle stopped.  I had swallowed it all.

He stood limp before me as he turned his head down to look at me.  "Did you think that was going to convince me to let you cum?"  I reluctantly let his head pop free from my mouth, and I shook my head no as I licked my swollen lips.  I still savored his flavor.  "Why did you do it then?"

"Because I needed to taste you.  I needed to make you feel good.  I knew you got off fucking me, but that was you taking me.  I needed to give something to you.  So I needed to get you off with my mouth and throat," I answered.  He looked down at me quizzically, then backed away a step as I stood stiffly and stepped from the shower.  In the time I'd blown him, the water had evaporated from me, and I reached for my collar and replaced it around my neck as he watched me, speechless.