Caged (rewriting) (boyxboy)

Chapter 19

Waking up leaves me disoriented. My first thought is to reach for Master, and huge relief pounds through me when my fingers touch the fabric of his shirt. I was scared he'd left again. I cuddle close into his chest, feeling his breathing. He's warm, and I'm really cold.

"Jase?" Master's groggy voice asks, rough and deep. A shiver goes down my spine and I scold myself mentally for being turned on. It's not my place to desire pleasure.

"Yessir?"

"You're freezing," he chuckles softly, "I'm turning into a Popsicle with you here." I immediately try to back up so I won't make him uncomfortable but he snakes one arm around my waist and pulls me in abruptly, so I'm pressed against him. "I didn't tell you to move."

His voice is so thick and rumbly that I shudder again, my breath catching. I love his voice, I love when he uses that tone. The tone that tells me I'm controlled. That he knows better. That I can be a sub and not be afraid. It's the tone that promises me all I've ever wanted.

"Yessir. I'm sorry Sir," I apologize quietly. I should be hit for that. I'm bad. A good sub would request punishment...but Master said it isn't my choice. Should I risk it?

"Sir?" I whisper hesitantly. Master leans back so he can see my face, looking concerned.

"What?"

"Will sir me punish please?" I rush out nervously, jumbling my words again. I hate pain, I don't want to be punished but I have to be. I have to be or else I'm not a good boy, and I want to be a good boy for Master. He understands what I mean.

"You want to be punished? For what?" He asks, looking concerned.

"Made Master be feeling bad. Need punishes so I am good boy again," I try to explain quietly. Two fingers lift my jaw up so I have to look Master in the eyes, something I'm deeply uncomfortable with- I don't have the right to look in his eyes, I'm not good enough. Surely Master knows I'm not good enough.

Master stares down at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine, before his face sets and he stands, pulling me with him. We walk to the edge of the bed and he bends me down so my face presses into the comforter, making it difficult to breathe. Minor panic seizes me, making me tense completely at the familiarity of the position. No, I remind myself, don't panic. Master is here, he won't use the belt. He promised.

"How many do you think you deserve Jase? With my hand." His voice is hard and I fight down my fear again. I deserve this. I asked for this. I want this, in a way.

"However many pleases my Master," I automatically give the response I'm trained to give and gasp as a hard smack lands across my cheeks. My face flushes and I feel tears form. I wasn't ready for that and it scared me.

"I want a number Jase," master says calmly, and I press my face against the sheets, confused. Number, what if what I say is too low and he gets mad? What if master thinks I'm trying to avoid a proper punishment? I don't want to be a bad boy like that. I want to be good, even if it means my bum aches for a week. I made Master uncomfortable and I acted without orders. Those are both serious.

"Fifty sir," I blurt out, scared. I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it, I chant in my head.

"Fifty? You think that I should hit you fifty times for scooting away when I said I was cold?"

Is this a trick? What am I supposed to say? I'm not good at questions.

"Yessir?"

"Oh really. And would your answer change if instead of hitting you here," his hand runs gently over my ass before he flips me over so I'm looking up at him, my back against the sheets, "I hit you here?" His fingers run gently over my cock and I flinch deeply, tears spilling over my cheeks. I don't like pain there, please sir, no.