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Impulse Control

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It wasn't that that Dane was in trouble. This wasn't a punishment. It was a lesson. Not for misbehavior, but simply learning something new. Volume proved to be an issue in certain situations, and if they wanted to continue, he needed to learn how to control it. Gags couldn't always be used discreetly. Being told to be quiet, ordered and punished never did the trick. He lacked discipline when his mouth wasn't occupied.

The plan was simple. He just needed to last through the length of a movie without getting so loud that the movie couldn't be heard. Which would have been easy, if not for a few complicating factors. First, his cock had been locked away for a solid week. Before the movie started, he already ached for everything. Second, Sir intended to stroke and tease and touch him the entire time. Sitting there untouched would have been difficult enough. Third, without a gag he was expected to control his volume the entire time, without any assistance. Fourth, and finally, he could barely move. The more restricted Dane felt, the more it turned him on. His arms were held in a simple box tie across his back, ropes crossing over his chest and cinching his upper arms close to his body making it next to impossible to move. His legs were separate, calves lashed to thighs. It left him some range of movement, but only enough to be useless and frustrating. A thick, leather blindfold kept him in the dark, pressing against his ears and muffling the world even further than the thick earplugs did. With his head nestled in Sir's lap, he could barely make out the sound of the TV. To soft and distorted to make out words, to tell what movie Sir had chosen. Was it an hour and a half of explosions and action? Or three hours of the hushed whispers of a fantasy epic? How would he know how loud he could get? But that was part of the lesson.

If he could pass this lesson, the rewards would be worth it. But failing would result in punishment equal to the reward. Sir would allow him to cum when they were through, and he would have a week of complete freedom without the cage. If he couldn't pass it, he would be iced down and immediately put back into his cage. Sir would then use him for the night, and they would try again in a week.

At first, it didn't seem all that bad. Sir's fingers were light and teasing making Dane squirm and whimper, pulling away before he became overwhelmed. It left him feeling warm and fuzzy, almost cozy there on the couch. But soon, those gentle touches and teases evolved. Fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, stroking slow and lazily. An idle sort of movement as fingers ran through his hair, as if Sir were barely paying attention. Ten minutes of that had Dane's cheeks burning, lips pressed together in a desperate desire to start begging. But if he actually spoke, if he uttered a single word, it meant he automatically failed the test and they'd end right then and there. No begging for more or less, for something different, and certainly no pleading for release. Dane was only to stay quiet. That rule seemed easy at first, but now he dreaded breaking it out of sheer desperation.

Twenty minutes later, he was biting his lip so hard it hurt, his hips writhing, trying to get more friction. His breath huffed out of his nose and he could hear every desperate inhale behind the ear plugs. Every small sound he made seemed too loud, had him fearing a return to the cage. But that only made it worse. If he failed before the movie ended, would he still have to make it to the end? Frustrated into madness to only be denied for a week. That idea thrilled him more than the reward. He'd never gone two weeks in the cage before. Just one had him frantic and desperate. What would two weeks feel like?

That notion fell away as Sir's grip tightened, stroking more earnestly. Every thought, every conscious effort went into staying quiet. Biting hard on his lip as small sounds escaped. Whimpering moans and needy pleas from the back of his throat. Slow, deep strokes giving him what he'd wanted for the last week. At last. But as he struggled to stay quiet, a new threat loomed as he felt the familiar burn starting to build deep behind his navel. He hadn't been told he could cum. He hadn't been told it was forbidden, either. But the standing rule remained that he needed permission. A rule that always resulted in immediate and swift punishment. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't warn or ask, he couldn't even cry out. His head drove back against Sir's thigh, a quiver settling into his own limbs as that white-hot pressure kept building. His small sounds grew more frantic, not wanting to fail so soon.

Sir's hand pulled away at what seemed to be the last possible moment. Dane lay there, tense and shivering as his body threatened to betray him even with stimulation removed. Slowly, the burning coil seemed to relax and he was able to breathe again. Sir murmured something that he couldn't make out, gently stroking his hair. Perhaps he'd passed some milestone. Done something well. Those fingers in his hair felt better than any praise that could be uttered. It allowed him to breathe a little easier.

He lost track of how long he lay there, one hand resting on his chest, the other petting his hair. Still buzzing from being so close to the edge, it let him drift away and just fall quiet. For just a moment thinking maybe he'd passed the test, even as the voices of the movie carried on as muffled whispers. Even as Sir's hand started to play over his skin, a thumb brushing over his nipple, a warm hand sliding over his stomach.

The cycle repeated again. Light intermittent touches, passing into idle stroking, building into earnestness, halting with him right on the edge. This time, he struggled to swallow frantic cries, physically biting his tongue to keep from getting too loud. This time, as he slowly came down he wasn't sure he wanted to pass the test. The promise of doing this again in another week, of being even more desperate, seemed like more of a reward than anything else. The way he seemed to lose the ability to even think for those blissful moments he hugged that edge.

The third time through the cycle, he wasn't sure he wanted to hold back. Even if he did want to, he found it harder and harder with each breath to stay quiet. Was Sir stroking harder than before? Hitting different spots? Or was his resolve crumbling as rapidly as a sandcastle in the waves? He must have started to get louder because two of Sir's fingers pushed between his lips. He instinctively closed his lips around them, sucking on them as if they were Sir's cock. That lesson he'd learned early and learned fast to the point that he didn't even think about it. Lifting his head from Sir's lap, he tried to take the fingers deeper, tongue sliding over them, all the while small needy sounds escaping around them.

Before he knew it, Sir's hand pulled away and he was left gasping on the edge once again. His skin glistened with sweat as he shivered and whimpered. Sir didn't want him to fail. Wanted him to learn and stay quiet. But how could Dane ask to do this again? Of all things they'd done, nothing had felt quite like this. It reminded him of the first time he'd worn the cage. Just for a day. The thrill of knowing he couldn't get off, the tingle of fear and anticipation. He didn't want it stop.

They were only halfway through another cycle when Dane's thoughts started to swim away from him. His head grew fuzzier faster and he couldn't hold onto any thoughts. It just felt so damn good. Passing or failing no longer became a matter of choice. His body shuddered with desperate need, his back arching and grinding his head back against Sir's leg as his hips jerked and teasing fingers. The last vestige of his will tried to keep him quiet, strangled sounds escaping his throat. He knew he was risking failure when a firm hand wrapped over his mouth.

He cooled down, but his thoughts didn't return. He just floated, buzzing and disconnected from the world. Time had long since lost meaning. There was only Sir's hands on him and the cool touch of air on his bare skin. The build and fall of those touches. The cycle seemed to have stopped as even small touches left him quivering and desperate.

He didn't even realize he'd failed until he felt the sting of the cry after it left his throat. A hand clamped over his mouth, but it was too late. That first cry bred more, muffled behind the hand, as his hips bucked, trying to find the release he craved. Distantly, Dane thought it would simply end there. He'd failed, shouldn't he be punished? But the teasing continued, as he futilely tried to keep a lid on his voice. Sir held him close as he squirmed and writhed, each movement only making him more desperate.

The movie must have ended, because Sir slowly extracted himself from the couch, letting Dane down onto the cushions. He walked away, leaving Dane shivering and wanting to apologize for failing, both fearing and looking forward to what came next.

A warm hand on his thigh made him flinch. The soft muffled sound of Sir's voice. A soft cloth wrapped around his rigid cock, the feel of Sir's fingers through the fabric made him shiver. He knew what came next and he braced for it. But there was no holding back the pathetic whimper that escaped him as the firm pressure pressed around the cloth, cold rapidly seeping from the ice pack into his skin. His erection shrank, but somehow it did little to dampen the feeling of arousal. A desperate ache deep inside his gut, now with no outlet. He whimpered and shuddered, trying to apologize without words.

He felt the familiar touch of his cage, slender bars that hugged his cock on a daily basis. His cock must not have fallen as far as it had felt like because the bars bit into his skin almost immediately, teasing him with the reminder that he could no longer get fully hard. He felt more than heard the lock close, sealing his fate on another week of frustration.

Sir's hands slid over his legs and stomach, before teasing over his trapped cock. It made him flinch, letting out a small whine. He still hadn't been given permission to speak.

Strong hands moved him, adjusting his position. He shifted as best as he could but what could he do? He soon found himself face-first on the cushions, his knees under him so his ass rose in the air. He was still too fuzzy in the head to see it for what it was until a cool, slick finger pushed into his exposed hole. He cried out and tried to sit up, tried to pull away.

But this was his punishment for failing. Sir would use him, play with him, when he was still so very frustrated.

As he squirmed against the finger, Sir grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up. But only a little. The tip of Sir's cock pressed to his lips. He wanted to resist, to refuse. He'd failed, he should be punished. Not awarded with such a privilege. But Sir insisted, coaxing him forward. Dane opened his lips, swallowing the length easily. He bobbed his head as best as he could, Sir's hand forcing him further down. For several perilous moments, he couldn't draw a breath. But as always, he settled, holding it. Even as his lungs burned and his head swam, he didn't fight it. Sir's finger worked him from behind, and his entire body shivered. His lungs started to cry out for air, his tongue shoved at the length in his mouth, trying to push it free so he could breathe. Only when he tried to jerk back out of pure instinct, his body fighting of it's own according to breathe, did Sir drag his head back. He sucked in ragged breaths as saliva streamed down his chin.

A second finger pushed into him, making his thighs quiver.

He'd barely caught his breath when Sir forced his head back down again. This time he was able to draw in a deep breath before his airway was cut off. Braced now, he held on as long as he could. The force of the pumping fingers made it difficult to focus, his cock straining in its prison. Even as the fight kicked in, Sir continued to hold him. His throat spasmed, he bucked and thrashed in his bonds. Only when he felt the edges of his mind starting to dim was he pulled back. This time he coughed and gulped at the air, uncaring about the undignified amounts of drool streaming down his chin.

Sir only held his head back so he could gasp for the air he'd been deprived, as he slowly worked in a third finger. Between hoarse breaths, he whimpered and wanted so desperately to plead. Whether for more or for it stop, he wasn't sure. He tugged at the ropes around his arms, too stimulated to see the direction of his own desires.

Before he could sort it out, he was forced down again, far enough that his nose pressed against Sir's stomach. He bucked and thrashed, not quite prepared this time. Maybe that's what Sir wanted. For him to thrash and fight, because even through the ear plugs, he could hear Sir moaning. Even as he gagged and sputtered and tried to pull away. He started to fear that Sir might keep him there until he passed out. The edges of his mind started to crumble as the rest of his head filled with static.

At the last possible moment, when he was one step away from falling to complete darkness, Sir dragged his head back. He sucked in a breath that made his throat burn, made him even dizzier than before. Distantly, he could hear Sir saying something, while his fingers continued to work steady and firm.

Slowly, Dane started to understand. This was a preview of what he was in for over the coming week. He didn't get to know what was happening, or what Sir intended. He was a thing. Something to be used. The very idea was almost enough to send him over the edge, his cock already so hard it practically burned. He shuddered and jerked against the invading fingers, pushing back for even more. He knew he wasn't supposed to cum, that it was forbidden. But he wanted it too bad to heed the rules, sheer desire overriding his manners.

Whether Sir realized this or was just being cruel, the fingers pulled free before Dane could reach that point. Firm hands pushed him onto his back once more, then...nothing. Dane expected a touch. A barely heard word. Something. But as far as he could tell, Sir had simply stepped away. Dane's hips squirmed, every stirring of the air a jolt against his cock.

Moments ticked by. Was it minutes or hours? Time had become a fuzzy concept to Dane, with only the rush of his pulse to mark the seconds. It felt like both incredibly short and impossibly long at all once when a cold hand finally settled on his thigh.

He flinched, knowing instantly what the chill meant. He shook his head, lips pressed together to prevent himself from outright begging. It had been a week. Couldn't he just get off to get soft? That would be easier, wouldn't it? A low whimper escaped his throat as air around his cock dropped several dramatic degrees. He could feel the cold curling off the ice pack well before it touched him, but he knew better than to try to pull away. Not that he could with his legs so bound, though.

Even through a cloth, the touch of the ice pack was an electric shock. His head drove back against the couch as he let out a pathetic whine, hips jerking and twitching. While the chill made him softer by the moment, it managed to kick his arousal up several notches. Knowing that very soon he'd be locked away again, that Sir had such command over him, was heady and overpowering. He truly was nothing but a toy for Sir to play with.

He barely felt the cage sliding back on, the cold having left him rather numb. But he certainly felt the cold metal tucked behind his balls and sitting flush with his body. He felt the lock click shut and he couldn't help the faint sob that escaped him. He wanted to beg forgiveness, for another chance. He'd messed up. He'd do better next time. The promise of a week of being used had been too tempting to ignore, but now a faint trickle of dread started to sink in. Just what was he in for?

Before he had a chance to fully adjust to the weight of the cage again, Sir dragged him to the floor. He grunted as his knees hit the carpet, but he had no way to brace himself. His knees pressed against the front of the couch, as Sir moved him into place. It took long enough, that the chill in his cock had started to wear off. The shift in temperature made the burn of arousal as hot as a branding iron.

He didn't need to wait long to know what Sir wanted. The tip of his still rigid cock pressed against Dane's lips. Out of habit and need, he parted his lips, already moving to take it into his mouth. Sucking Sir's dick was something he was not only accustomed to, but enjoyed doing. And he knew just how Sir liked it. He didn't need hands or sight to do it right. But apparently, that wasn't what Sir wanted.

A fist grabbed Dane by the hair and forced him down. A hand under his chin kept his head steady, guiding him with more precision. He wasn't forced down as far this time, or for as along, but it quickly became clear that Dane didn't even have the power to suck it under his own steam. He truly was to be used as an inanimate object, a toy that had no mind and no drive. All he could do was make sure his lips were wrapped around the shaft as Sir moved him back and forth, using his grasp to turn his head to get just the right angle. It left Dane panting, his own cock already straining against the thin bars of the cage.

Soon, Sir was forcing his head down harder and faster. A crushing force that Dane could barely keep up with. Pushing him down further and for longer, until he was struggling to breathe each time. Until he barely had a chance to catch his breath between strokes. The shallow, frantic breaths left him dizzy and unsteady, but that didn't seem to matter to Sir. In fact, the frantic fluttering of his throat trying to find breath around the intruding shaft seemed to excite Sir further. Dane was left squirming, his chest jerking and twitching each time he couldn't get his breath. What little he could sense of the world started to fall away. His entire body tingled and burned. He could hear Sir's groans, loud and clear even through the earplugs.

Dane was certain Sir only intended to leave him unconscious. He'd threatened once already, but now it seemed inevitable. Even the feeling of the weight on his tongue seemed to be fading away. Until all at once heat exploded against the back of his throat. He choked and gagged, some of it leaking out over his tongue, but long ingrained habit left him swallowing around it, even as stood at the edge of unconsciousness.

At once, Sir pulled free and Dane sucked in a breath that left him dizzier still. He wavered, trying to find his bearings under the weight of the blindfold. He barely had a chance to lick the salty residue from his lips when Sir forced something between his teeth. A firm, silicone ball. Not the largest Sir had, which told Dane it was meant to be in place for quite some time. The buckle cinched tight behind his head, the straps digging into his cheeks. How long? He wanted to demand, but he wasn't meant to know.

Chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath, now only able to breathe through his nose, Sir pushed him forward onto the couch. He was thankful just to have a little support, his limbs feeling quivery and watery. He felt a cold pressure against his hole, not frigid but still a chill. The slick toy pushed into him steadily, growing wider and wider. For a precarious moment, he started to wonder just how large of a plug Sir intended for him, when his body finally was able to relax around the base. It felt a little bigger than his usual toys, but not by much. Dane could just let out a soft moan, his hips squirming as he tried to accommodate to the girth.

He felt something cold against his thigh, then all at once the ropes fell away from his legs. The same thing happened to his arms, the ropes cut away in one swift motion. But he didn't have the strength to move now that he was free. Weak from being choked, still too aroused to be coherent. And it seemed Sir didn't expect him to move, as he set to fastening cuffs around wrists and ankles. Wrists clipped to wrists, ankles to ankles. Dane could only let out a soft protest.

All at once, he was lifted from the floor. Not cradled, but thrown over Sir's shoulder. His trapped cock pressed against Sir's chest, making him squirm with agony and need. The movement earned him a sharp slap to the back of his thigh, making him whimper harder.

When he was at last put down, it wasn't on the bed. It was the floor. No, not quite the floor. The cage in the bedroom, where Sir forced him to go when he'd really been bad. Easily concealed beneath the bed. He tried to protest, even if the floor was softened with pillows and blankets. Couldn't he at least be on the bed? But Sir either ignored or didn't notice as he maneuvered Dane further into the cage.

Distantly, Dane heard the sound of the door falling shut. No doubt, the click of the lock engaging had followed, but that was too soft for him to hear. Before he had time to consider his lot, he felt Sir's hand reach through the bars. Something clipped to the short chain between his wrists, then again to the one between his ankles. A brief tug told him all he needed to know. It wasn't a full hog-tie, the chain must be a foot long. But it certainly left very little range of movement.

No matter how he moved, there was no way to ignore how he'd been bound. The cuffs or the plug or the cage. Sir had thought of everything. Just cuffed, Dane would have eventually found a way to get his hands in front of himself. From there he could take off anything but the cage. Unless they were locked on. Realizing this, he lifted his head, shaking it. Then again. Against the back of his head, for both blindfold and gag, he felt the distinctive rattle and weight of a small pad lock. That probably meant the same for the cuffs, as well.

He dropped his head back to his pillow, letting out a faint whimper. Even if he could overcome the cuffs and chains, he was completely stuck. Left to wait, bound, blind, mute, deaf, plugged and locked. Hidden away in his cage until Sir decided to play with him again. Just like a proper toy in its toy box.

As terrifying as that prospect seemed, waiting that way for hours on end, he'd never been so aroused in his entire life. He dreaded and gleefully anticipated the coming week.