Twenty-One Tobias

This was fucking insane. I'd completely lost my mind. It's just like any other sex you've had. Nothing more, I told myself, even though nothing about what I was about to do with Abel was close to anything I'd ever done. He was a man, and he was my best friend's son. I should be protecting him, not subjecting him to my dark fantasies. A craze that, once craved, there was no stopping until I'd satisfied my appetite. Those sexcapades ultimately faded until they were forgotten. But there was a wrinkle in my modus operandi: I couldn't leave afterward. I'd vowed to get Oliver's family out of here.

What would happen in the morning? The day after? And the day after that? I'd worry about that later. This wasn't the smartest move, but Abel was too sinful to pass up. I was in too deep now.

My fingertips brushed against the heavy-duty nylon webbing of the tactical belt. Shots would be mine to call. My insatiable appetite for dominance began when I was eighteen years old. A time in my life when nothing seemed to excite me—no motivation, and everything was blah. The world was uninteresting and the sex was dull. That all changed when I met a woman, ten years my senior, who begged me to tie her up with a rope and gag her with my boxers during sex. I didn't understand why at first, but the moment I had her restrained and I had all the power, the suffocating grip the world had on me dissipated. I had the upper hand for a change. In that moment, I wasn't the orphaned kid who'd been controlled his entire life. I wasn't under someone's thumb obeying orders that kept me at death's door. I felt like a god.

Was that fucked up? Maybe.

Abel grimaced when I tightened the strap, but he remained mute. His curious blue eyes tracked my methodical but deliberate movements. His youthful face was a striking difference to his brawny frame—a lethal contrast for any guy. I shook off the irritation that surged through my body about any guy—or anyone—touching Abel like that. Just sex.

As if having him restrained wasn't enough, I pulled off my shirt and covered his eyes. Abel was vulnerable, helpless, and so fucking hot blindfolded. I wasn't lying when I told him that I hadn't done anything sexually with a man in the past; what I did with him earlier was based on pure instinct.

Abel swallowed hard. His lips parted and his breathing quickened. His tongue moistened his very inviting lips. I wanted to devour them but settled on running my fingers across his supple skin.

I raised his shirt up, my palm dragging across his obliques up to his abs. He shivered when my fingers reached his chest. I continued pulling his shirt until his head was free. His white tank top remained on his shoulder while his entire torso was exposed for me. A forbidden dish served on a silver platter.

I gently pinched his nipples and he let out a soft moan. "You like that?" I asked.

"Mmmm. Very much." He arched his back for more.

"Down, boy," I said, pressing his stomach down. He was scorching hot under my touch. His body was damp and gleaming with sweat.

I continued my caress of his hardening nipples. What would happen if I licked them and rolled my tongue over them? Hell fucking no, I scolded myself. That'd be too intimate.

"Yesssss," Abel panted. "More, please."

"How about now?" I clamped them harder, making his entire body contort. I covered his mouth before he let out a scream. "Shhhh," I whispered in his ear. "Quiet or this is over." It was an empty threat, because there was no stopping me. Not when Abel played the part so damn well. He was perfection in every sense of the word. I couldn't believe he was only nineteen.

He nodded in agreement since my hand still covered his mouth.

"Good boy." I resumed my torment of his nipples, gripping and squeezing them harder each time. They were scarlet red when I finally took mercy on him and stopped.

Quick and short breaths left his lips, matching his twitch. Abel extended his legs, but I doubted it was intentional. Maybe it was because of the relief from my clutch.

"You're such a good boy," I said, running my hand over his shaved head, surprising myself at how the words rolled out of me naturally. "Ready for your first reward?"

"Yes," he said.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, Daddy."

One word from him and I was a goner. "Stay still." I unbuttoned his pants before slowly dragging the zipper down, one tooth at a time. I wasn't going to admit it, but I was as excited to have his dick out as he was. Abel's cock bobbed beneath the fabric of his pants. I pulled them down until he was fully exposed.

I lowered my face toward his crotch, tracing his dick with my cheek, the heat burning my skin. I closed my eyes when I inhaled the scent of sweat, musk, and spice, mixed with generic soap. I played with the head of his dick, fighting my urge to lick the tip.

Abel rolled his head back, his mouth open. He ground his hips when I wrapped my hand over the tip of his cock, fucking my hands. When I let go of his dick, he whined.

"What did I say?" I reminded him.

"Stay still," he answered.

I toyed with his balls with one hand while I spat on my rough palm. Fuck—I would need both of my hands to jerk him off. Licking my free hand, I stacked them on top of each other and glided up and down Abel's thick cock.

He murmured incomprehensible words; his stomach expanding and contracting with his quickening breaths. He was close to coming. I released my hold on him. Too soon. We'd barely started.

As expected, he protested. "No! I'm so close. Don't stop."

"You come when I tell you to." I used my index finger to run under his shaft, teasingly and feather-like. I fought the impulse to laugh at the way Abel whimpered, as if he'd die if he didn't blow his load. Knowing that he couldn't see my face, I grinned.

I carried on with my torment, following the same stroking routine and stopping when signs of his impending orgasm became evident. The power I had over him at that moment was enthralling. Silky pre-cum dripped from his shaft after his balls doubled in size, and the head of his dick turned from pink to deep red.

Unlike earlier, I took my time with Abel, memorizing every inch of his skin. I lined my head with his chest and, before I talked myself out of it, I bit his nipple while pinching the other. I stopped jacking him off and used my hand to stifle his cry. I stuck my index and middle finger in his mouth for him to suck on, wishing it was my dick. I resumed nipping at his chest, alternating each side, allowing him space to say the safe word if he needed to between clamps.

After thirty minutes of torture, I was ready to let him nut. "You're doing so good," I said. "Ready for your final reward?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Stand up and turn around."

He did as he was told and stood, wobbling due to his restrained hands. I steadied his body, which was dripping with sweat.

"Make me come, please," Abel begged.

I grabbed his neck from behind, choking him. "What did I say about talking without permission?"

He hushed like the good boy he was.

"Good boy."

Slowly, I untied his hands. "Don't move a muscle," I said. I pressed my chest against his back while my scarred and calloused hands explored the sides of his veiny neck, toned shoulders, and muscular arms.

Stubbornly, he fisted his leaking cock once his hands were free, jacking his dick in a frenzy.

Knowing how close he'd been from my edging, I gripped his wrist before he spilled all over the tiled bathroom.

"I'm so close," he protested.

"What did I say?" I asked, twisting his arm behind his back.

"Please make me come?" he panted. "Make me come, please, Daddy."

"So impatient." I brought both of his hands behind his head and reached around to grab his cock.

"Please," he whispered.

With my pity for him coupled with the desire to feel him pulse in my hands again, I stroked his dick the way I would mine. Long and slow. Cries of pleasure escaped his mouth, and I whispered in his ear, "Stay quiet or I'll stop."

He nodded, sweat beads trickling down his cheeks. I fought the urge to lick them.

I spit on my palm and pumped his cock until his body started spasming.

"I'm coming," he panted, spraying the wall that was two feet in front of him. He was a fucking shooter just like me. Still coming, I aimed his dick at his stomach so more of his nut coated his abs and belly button.

After I milked Abel of his last drops, I spun him around, then untied my shirt that was covering his eyes. He blinked several times before his eyes landed on mine. "Did you come?" he asked.

I ignored his question and went to the sink to rinse my shirt with warm water. I'd take care of my needs later. The sight of Abel covered with his spunk caused my cock's girth to double.

"Let me finish you off," he begged. "Please?"

Fuckkkk. He knew what he was doing, but I couldn't succumb to his offer. "No!" I barked. He'd never have that control over me. I wiped his cum off his body with my damp shirt. Once cleaned of his own release, I distanced myself and studied him. His wrists were red and covered with marks. I was proud. That was my work.

Abel reached for my crotch and grabbed my bulge. His touch almost made me come.

I slapped his hand. "I said no."

Abel looked shocked and hurt at the same time.

I had to get the fuck out of here. I unlocked the bathroom door and marched out of his quarters.

In my world, there was no space for anything but chaos and gloom. Once I'd snuck back to my room, I unzipped my pants and pulled out my swollen purple cock. The head and small barbell piercing glistened with a thick layer of pre-cum that dripped to the floor once the entire length was free. I leaned against the metal door, the chilled surface no match for my burning desire. I spit on my hand and jerked my cock from the base to tip, relishing the slow strokes I preferred. A blindfolded Abel moaning while I beat his dick filled my imagination. If I wasn't careful, this would be over way too soon.

I pushed my briefs and pants down to my ankles. I focused on my balls by tugging and stretching them lower. My breath hitched, caught between pleasure and pain. I could still smell his sweat around me. I wondered what his cock tasted like. A vivid scenario played in my mind of Abel's hand pumping my dick, while his tongue played with the cock piercing before engulfing my entire length. He'd choke and his eyes would turn red and watery.

Instead of pulling out, I'd thrust my hips until I was all the way down his throat. "Fuck," I groaned. My orgasm was about to hit me like a freight train that I didn't have the power to stop. "Take it!" I murmured to the phantom Abel.

The image I'd conjured up had me spilling my spunk all over the floor.

When I opened my eyes, dark spots clouded my vision. I stood in front of a small puddle of cum and tried to remember the last time I'd exploded like that. Probably never.

Once my pulse had calmed down, I headed to the small bathroom for a much-needed shower. Under the spray, a realization dawned on me: that was the first time I'd come without imagining my wife. Even after her death, I pictured her body whenever I pleased myself.

Whatever. This was a one-off. My life would be back to normal—my normal—when this was all over.

The fire I'd started hours ago had been extinguished and all that remained of the old shack was charcoal and ash. I peeked outside the corridor through the small window and, when I didn't see anyone in the empty hallway, carried the metal chair, positioned it under the ceiling tiles, and grabbed the cell phone I'd stashed days ago.

As expected, messages from Archer—The Reaper—flooded my screen. Messages arrived in one-hour intervals down to the minute—he was that anal about everything.

Archer: Did u find them?

Archer: Do u need us?

Archer: Still alive?

Archer: WTF dude? Answer me

Archer: Answer me or I'll go there myself

I quickly typed a response, hoping it wasn't too late.

Me: I'm fine. A lot more complicated than I'd anticipated.

After pressing send, I checked the battery and groaned. It had eighteen percent left. I needed to find a way to get this shit charged or I was screwed. I couldn't afford to lose my one connection outside the cult.

Archer: Thank fuck ur alive. Reinforcement?

Me: No, I got it. Gotta go. Text you later.

Archer: K

I turned my phone off and placed it under the mattress for tomorrow. I planned to return to the barn to take pictures of those metal bins for Archer and Zero. They had piqued my curiosity; odd and out of place sitting next to old farming tools. Zero would know.

I glanced at the clock and wondered what Abel was doing. He was my last thought before I succumbed to sleep.

***

"I didn't know he wasn't Ricky," I said, wincing when my stepfather pulled my long hair. My adoptive parents didn't bother sending me to the barber, and I couldn't cut it myself. My scalp ached like it was about to separate from my skull. He yanked me toward the steps leading to the dark basement. Oh no, not again. I was punished last Christmas after I dropped the money from the crack deal he'd sent me to deliver to one of his pushers. "He said he was waiting for the goods," I explained.

"You're fucking dumb!" he yelled. His breath reeked of marijuana and gin. "You're the stupidest twelve-year-old alive. You know that?" He kicked the door open and a foul stench from downstairs assaulted my senses. "You're costing me more money than you're worth."

I was a drug mule. This family didn't adopt me because they wanted another kid to play with their real son, David—which was what they'd told Father Nathaniel at St. Matthew's Boys Town.

"I'll be better next time," I said, my lame attempt to convince him to let me go. It was a wasted effort, but I could hope.

That was all I had. Without hope, I had nothing. No family. No friends. No money. Nothing. My hope was the only thing they couldn't take away from me.

"You fucking better do it right next time or you'll be living on the streets."

Sometimes I wondered if that might be better than this place. My stomach dropped as the sound of his belt slithering from his pants filled the stuffy room. No! This wasn't happening again.

A loud whip followed by indescribable pain. I fell to my knees on the dusty floor, screaming just in time for the next blow to crack against my back. The metal buckle tore my skin, and I passed out.

***

I woke up gasping for air. My throat and mouth were dry, and my body was covered with sweat, soaking through the thin sheet. All of my nightmares were bubbling to the surface … I needed to get the fuck out of this place. I didn't know if the cause was confinement or something else, but whatever it was needed to stop. The fury, hopelessness, and misery I'd felt when I was a kid had come back in droves.

They're fucking gone. They could never hurt me again. No one could ever hurt me again.