Nine

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ATTY

My throat is fucking raw.It seriously feels like someone has taken sandpaper to my esophagus and rubbed for a week. I feel like I need to clear my throat, but I'm afraid to even swallow.

And when I move, my ass twinges too. Reminding me it's not just my throat that was thoroughly used today.

I'm still panting as I lay sprawled on my back across Toby's bed. My eyes are closed, mostly because my head won't stop spinning. I'm confident I nearly passed out while he choked me this time. I don't even care. The orgasm it gave me was fucking intense. It felt like he had a switch to make me orgasm and even when I was in the middle of it, Toby kept feeding it. Forcing my orgasm on.

I felt it throughout my entire body. I'm confident that even my soul orgasmed.

"Atty?"

I grunt. Toby chuckles.

"Come here, baby girl. I have something for you."

"If it's more dick, I think I need a minute," I rasp.

His light laughter makes me tingle. There's a quiet clink and then the bed shifts. His hands are gentle as he pulls me up so I'm reclined against him, my back to his chest. "Here. Open your mouth."

My body reacts as if I'm his marionette. My mouth opens.

The cup he places against my mouth is hot. Assuming that he's not going to pour something scalding down my throat, I shape my mouth to take a sip.

It's definitely on the hot side. It's sweet—distinctly honey—while also being a little bitter. There are notes of something that I don't readily recognize. I'm going to assume it's tea. Another few sips and I'm convinced I'm right.

"Drink it down," he whispers.

We've never done this before. Usually, I leave shortly after we fuck. Once the orgasmic high fades and the air starts to feel cold. So this is new.

I make no attempt at taking the cup from him and he quietly coos to me as I drink it. Telling me how good I am. Such a good girl for me. I shouldn't like that as much as I do. There's literally nothing feminine about me. Why does it turn me on like it does? Why does it make me feel… good?!

He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to nurse my throat back to health, so I take my time and it's a while before I've finished the tea. My throat still feels raw, but it also feels much better.

"I would have thought something super cold would feel good," I say, voice still like sandpaper.

"Mmm," he answers, setting the empty cup down. "In my experience, it's the combination of warmth and honey that soothes the most."

"In your experience. So, you've had a big dick down your throat before?" I ask.

He chuckles. I feel his lips at my ear, teasing. Maybe not intentionally, but my dick tries to rally, anyway. "You're not tiny, babe."

I grin. "I'm not big, either."

Toby hums. "Yes, I've choked down a big dick before. And yes, I like hot tea with honey to soothe it."

"I admit, it feels better, though I'm going to sound like I had a cock down my throat for at least a few more hours."

His smile is evident. "Yes, you are."

A quiet moment passes. I still haven't moved except for how Toby's shifted me. I'm lounging in his hold, my arms limp at my sides over his thighs. His hands move slowly over my chest, my arms, my stomach. I'm scooched down far enough that he can't reach my cock, though it's making a valiant effort to gain the ability to get hard again and reach for him.

Fucker.

"I'd love to see satin spread over your skin," Toby murmurs. "Clinging to you from sweat."

"It sounds like you want to dress me up in girl clothing," I say.

He chuckles. "Clothes are genderless, baby. They're just clothes. As are colors. Roles in life." He shrugs.

Huh. Things I've never thought about. Things that are just… prescribed a certain way. I nod because, well, he's not wrong.

"You really want to dress me in… a thong?"

Toby groans. "You have no idea how sexy you'd be in a thong. Thin piece of fabric between your ass cheeks." He shivers and I grin. Not sure that I agree, but I like his response.

"And dresses?"

"Definitely dresses. Then I can just bend you over and fuck you without having to take your clothes off."

I laugh. "I'm not sure I need to wear a dress for that to happen."

"Ah, true. Guess I think you'll look hot in a dress."

My eyes close. "What else?"

"What else?"

"Yeah. What else do you want to do to me?"

"Oh, the possibilities." I grin at his pause. "I think I'd like to braid your hair. Paint your nails. I think some eyeliner would make your eyes super intense. Mmm." He trails off for a minute. "Maybe a bracelet. Leather, maybe but also a pretty chain."

"A necklace to match?"

"No," he denies, chuckling. "The only necklace I want you to wear is my hand."

A shudder races down my spine. Yep, I'm totally down for that.

"I love to choke you," he says quietly, his lips at my ear and voice low. "I love how your eyes go wide. The colors your skin turns. How turned on you get."

My cheeks heat.

"It's so fucking hot, Atty. To see how you just… fall apart for me."

I lick my lips. "It is hot," I admit. "I didn't think I'd like that."

"I bet you didn't think you'd enjoy obeying someone in the bedroom either. Did you?"

I shake my head. "No. I guess… growing up, I was always expected to be, uh, the man, I guess. Like, my role was set out already in that way stereotypes and societal expectations are."

"Feels good to let it go, yeah?"

"Confusing sometimes, but yeah."

Toby hums quietly, his hands smoothing over my chest. "I want to bite you," he says. There's amusement in his tone. "Hard. I want to leave a mark that scars."

My eyes widen. "Yeah?"

He chuckles. "Yes. I want to brand your body so everyone sees that you're owned."

The only thing I can think of is an iron brand. The kind that ranchers use to brand their animals. "Like a cattle iron," I suggest.

His smile is super wide. "Yes. But with my teeth."

I laugh, letting my head fall back.

"Want to do something now? Something new?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready for a dress," I say.

Toby chuckles. "Nah. This will make your orgasms even better."

"I seriously doubt that. I'm pretty sure they're already so good that you kill me with each one. I die a little every time you bring me to orgasm."

"That's the spirit!" he cheers and I laugh. "That's a very good compliment. I'll take it. But what if I promise it can get better?"

"Honestly, I don't know if my heart can take anything better."

"Trust me," he whispers, his lips at my ear.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Orgasm control."

My eyebrows knit together, unsure what that means. "For starters, you only get to come with me. That means no masturbating. No touching yourself when out of my presence, except for cleaning yourself. No orgasming unless I say."

I shudder at the thought. "So… I can only come when we're not together when you tell me I can?"

"Yes, but when we're together too."

"Toby, you have no idea how hard that is! I'm not sure I can emphasize how ready I am to come every time you touch me."

"Mmm…" His tone sends chills through my body. I tingle. My cock chubs a little more. "I know you want to be a good girl for me so I'm quite confident that you won't come unless I say you can."

I groan because I can already tell this is going to be painful. "What do you get out of this?"

"Your complete obedience in sex. All aspects of it."

Chewing the inside of my lip, I debate whether I have that kind of strength or not. Do I even want to? Of course you do, slut, my thoughts shout at me. In any other circumstances, I might not. But Toby… he could lead me around by my balls and I'd likely still come for him.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he prompts quietly. "Let's talk about it. I don't want you to have doubts or feel like you're not in control."

"If I obey you, then I'm not in control," I point out.

"No, baby. That's a common misunderstanding. Your trust in me, trust that I will take care of your every sexual need, is the control here. You call the shots. You're trusting me with your body. The moment that trust is broken, this all ends. You're in charge here. Completely."

"That sounds like a riddle."

His hand lingers around my neck, though not tightly. "Hmm… This kind of sexual relationship only works when one person gives their control to another person willingly. That's the difference between force and permission. You're a willing participant. It's your choice that gives me the power to control you." He pauses. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. I think so. What if I don't do what you say, though? Like, you tell me not to come and I do anyway?"

Toby laughs quietly. "It depends on what the intent behind it is and what we've discussed. Some people are brats, openly defying their partners so that they'll be punished. But I don't think that's you."

"Why not?"

"Because you thrive when you obey me. The way you give in entirely says that you want to do what you're told. You want to be good for me because you know I make it good for you."

My cheeks are hot at this point because I can hear his voice telling me I'm being a good girl. Fuck, he's not wrong.

"What other questions, Atty?" he asks. "I want to hear them all."

"This sounds like a dom and submissive thing," I say.

Toby shrugs. "As an umbrella, yeah. It's the same. I've never… it's never been that extensive though. Not until now."

"Until me," I add and I swear to fuck there's some weird hopefulness in my voice.

"Yep. Don't get me wrong, I've always liked to be obeyed in bed. It's just a natural inclination that I lean toward without realizing. But I'm generally very conscious of my partner and can tell whether they're into it or not. I don't necessarily turn it off, but those encounters don't last long, either."

I nod and think about it.

"You can always tell me if you don't like something. Or if you need me to stop. If something hurts in a way you're not into or… you just don't like it. We can slow down too, if you need some time to figure out what you're feeling. This is never going to be black and white. There is no black and white. It's all grayscale."

That puts me at ease, and I nod. "So… you don't want me to come without you."

"Oh no. Atty, you won't come unless I specifically tell you to."

I shiver, but fuck if it doesn't excite me! Traitorous dick thinks it's a good idea. Fucker will change his tune when we ache from not coming in days.

"I need to know if you want to do this," Toby says. "There's no pressure."

Except that I think there is. I think if I tell him I don't want to, then this is pretty much over. He's already said that those who haven't been into being under his power in the bedroom are short-lived.

The thought that this could be over makes my chest feel heavy, and my stomach churns at the idea. I want to hang on longer. Toby is quite literally the first guy—the first person—who has ever made me feel like this. Not just questioning everything I know about myself, but also what pleasure means. What role I play in the bedroom. What it feels like to have someone truly find you gorgeous. Someone who wants you physically as much as Toby seems to want me.

It feels like that, anyway.

I'm not even going to touch on the other things I may or may not be feeling. I don't understand them enough to examine. Besides, this has only been about sex. This entire conversation, the longest one we've ever had, has been solely about sex.

There's a very big chance that everything else I feel is completely one-sided.

Do I want this to end?

I'm aware that the answer to that question shouldn't sway my answer to his question. And yet, it really kind of does.

Except… less than I think I'm ready to acknowledge. I'm not horrified by the idea of him taking over complete control of my sex life. In fact, it's the most appealing thing I've ever heard. It's arousing. It's even liberating.

Some strange weight is completely lifted from me at the idea that I don't need to think or make any decisions in the bedroom at all. I don't have to lead the activities. I don't even need to worry about when is too soon to come if Toby's going to tell me when.

I don't have to think.

"Yes," I say. "I think I do."

"We need to keep communication open about what we do," he insists. "Don't ever keep something from me. I don't want to hurt you or make you feel unheard. Okay?"

"Yes, okay."

"Good. Now." Toby pulls me up so that I'm sitting straighter though our position doesn't change. "Are you familiar with what edging is?"

"Oh god," I mutter and nod, my eyes dropping to where his hand moves closer to my dick.

"A good way to learn orgasm control is through edging. Think you can handle that?"

"No," I whine, gripping his thighs tightly. But his hand stops. He doesn't touch my dick. "I mean, no, I think I might die. Not no, I don't want you to do that."

Toby snorts. "This is why people have safe words. It suddenly makes total sense just now."

"What?"

"Your no didn't mean no in the traditional sense. As in, you didn't actually want me to stop when you said no."

I shake my head.

"Right. So, let's do this. If you actually need me to stop entirely, stop doing what I'm doing, stop touching you—whether that means you don't like it, you're uncomfortable, it hurts, whatever—say red. Okay? Anything else will mean you don't want me to actually stop."

"Red," I confirm.

"Yes and so we're clear, I will never be upset with you for saying red. This is your body, Atty. I want to use it to bring you so much fucking pleasure that no one before me exists and no one after me will hold a candle. But I don't want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. Understand?"

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him no one before him compares. I don't say so. I just nod. "Yes. Red means stop. Stop doesn't mean stop. No doesn't mean no."

"I'll probably check in if I hear any of those words too. This is new for both of us."

I take a breath. "Okay." I feel good about this. About it all. Maybe not the idea of him edging me until I sob, because I have a feeling that's exactly the kind of outcome Toby is going to go for, but I feel good with this arrangement.

What's the worst that could happen? I learn something about myself that I didn't know and it all ends.

And the best?

I really hope that this might lead somewhere that answers that question. I'm too afraid to even think the words at this point.