Deliver Us (21 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“Because I am still learning what you do
not
enjoy, I’m going back to the basics, to what I know is generally found to be unpleasant. I’m going to tie you up with this rope, lay you down in the tub you are currently kneeling in, and then urinate on you and that mouth that you were so fucking eager to share with Kyle. Essentially, I’m marking my territory. Your mouth is now
my
territory, my property, and I can do with it whatever the hell I want. Bite it, spit on it, piss on it —
anything
. And in case you were not previously aware of the fact, let me assure you that urine is a sterile substance. It will
not
make you ill if you ingest it.

“I will also be spreading your legs with this piece of wood in order to keep an eye on your genitals and make sure you are not getting off on this. If I discover that you
are
becoming erect, I will begin whipping the undersides of your feet with my belt until your dick is once more soft. You will stay in the tub, face down, until you relieve yourself and empty your bladder. Then you will lay there until I release you.
That
is your punishment. Understood?”

Head bowed to the point where his chin is almost resting on his chest, and turned away, Darrek nods.

“Look at me! Look at me and say you understand!”

Darrek turns toward Gabriel, cheeks stained with tears already, nose running and sniffling, Darrek whispers, “I understand. Okay... okay, Master.”

He hears the air rush out of Gabriel’s lungs, sees him press hard at his left eye with the heel of his left hand as his breath hitches when he tries to inhale. Closing his eyes against the sight, because it only makes this so much harder, Darrek resigns himself for what’s to come.

The first thing Gabriel does is tie Darrek’s hair back from his face with a rubber band found in the downstairs desk. Next, he has him lie down on his stomach and get into position—legs bent so that his calves are pressed to the backs of his thighs, ankles crossed, arms behind his back and wrists crossed as well. Gabriel loops the rope multiple times around each wrist, each ankle, before securing them together, wrist-to-wrist and ankle-to ankle before tightly connecting ankles to wrists with a short length of the rope. Every so often his gaze rests on Darrek’s face, lying flush against the smooth, white porcelain. He’s still crying soundlessly, face fully exposed with his hair fastened back, and looks very much the sweet boy aching with remorse, desperate for daddy’s approval, a hug or a smile—forgiveness.

Gabriel wrenches his eyes away, wanting to just get this over with as fast as possible so he can take Darrek in his arms and make everything better.

With the ropes secure and Darrek in position, Gabriel takes up the small piece of wood he had found in the pile of scraps in Darrek’s garage and trimmed down with the circular saw. Gabriel had thoroughly sanded the ends to rid them of jagged edges and splinters, but just in case, also cut the piece of tarp now at hand. Wrapping the plastic tightly around the wood to protect Darrek’s skin, Gabriel just hopes that it fits.

Sitting down on the side of the tub, Gabriel nudges Darrek’s knees apart with a hand. Darrek takes the hint and opens his legs as wide as he can in the confined space. Fitting the wood in place, it turns out to be just the right size, keeping Darrek’s knees apart and pressed tightly to the walls of the tub.

Trembling from head to toe with nerves, eyes and lips squeezed shut; Darrek sucks in a rough breath. Gabriel itches to touch him, to kiss away his tears, but restrains himself with effort. He stands and goes to the medicine cabinet above the sink. He finds what he needs inside it and goes back to Darrek’s head, kneeling down on the bathroom’s tile floor.

Twisting the cotton balls between his fingers, reshaping them to be narrow and long, he catches Darrek’s eyes for a second after he glances at Gabriel’s hands and sees what he’s doing. The question is in his eyes, if not on his lips. His obedience and restraint continues to amaze Gabriel.

Reaching over the lip of the tub, cupping Darrek’s face, he explains as he works, “I’m putting these inside your nostrils to prevent you from breathing through your nose and to force you to keep your mouth open. I have a special gag that’s designed to do that as well, but since I don’t have it with me, this will have to do. The good news is that it might help dull the smell for you.”

He gets the first one in, pushing it deep, and then the second. Darrek’s lips part instantly and he breathes softly through them. The fear is still darkening his eyes, but there’s strength there too—determination, resiliency.

Quick enough to badly startle Darrek, Gabriel gets to his feet and rapidly works open his belt, whipping it from his belt loops and tossing it to the floor. He unsnaps his jeans and lowers the zipper, hitching them down on his hips. Darrek’s eyes are locked to his crotch.

As he tugs his dick free, cradling it in one hand and stepping up into position over Darrek, he warns, “You may close your eyes but if you close your lips I will be
very
displeased.”

A keening whimper of pure, unadulterated fear rips from Darrek’s chest and then it’s happening.

A shower of warmth rains on his head, trickles over his cheeks and down into his mouth. A jet of it falls right onto his tongue and it’s acidic and bitter, stinging his nose even with the cotton there. For a second he forgets and starts to close his mouth to keep it out, even if that means he can’t breathe. He catches himself just before his lips touch, and forces himself to open back up. Darrek does have his eyes shut, so is forced to imagine what this must look like, the sight of Gabriel’s dick above him as he washes Darrek with his piss.

It’s over before he knows it, and he blinks his eyes open. He hadn’t seen Gabriel close the drain, but he obviously has, since the liquid is not draining away. It pools under Darrek’s body, under his head, since he’s lying with his face only inches from the tub’s metal drain. He can taste it on his tongue.

He feels ashamed, dirty, but there’s more than that—much more. Darrek knows that it’s wrong, that he’s lying in Gabriel’s urine, but at the same time, it’s still part of
Gabriel
.

He hears Gabriel sigh with disappointment.

“
Goddamn it
,” Gabriel hisses, and Darrek knows why.

There’s a hand at his crotch, gently moving his dick so that it’s pointing away from his body and not trapped between his belly and the tub.

Darrek is getting hard.

He wants to apologize but the words won’t come. Once more fright bubbles up in his gut, clawing and manic.

“I didn’t want to
do this
to you,” Gabriel almost whines, anger and disappointment coloring his impenetrable facade.

He picks up the belt and doubles it over, holding it tightly in his fist, drawing his arm back.

“Don’t! Please! Please, I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

The blows start to fall, and it’s so much worse than before, when he had been in the dungeon. Then he’d had other pain to distract him, other pleasure. Now, his ankles bound together and hog-tied in the tub as he is, the bottoms of both his feet get whipped at the same time and he can’t even buck or writhe away. He’s trapped.

Darrek is fairly sure that nothing has ever hurt this much as fire explodes up his ankles, shins, through his knees and thighs, burning through his muscles and skin, radiating through his body. Daggers, sharp and cutting, bite into tender flesh. Getting lost in it, he doesn’t hear himself screaming, doesn’t feel himself choking on Gabriel’s piss until the leather strap of the belt stops landing with the regular, rapid lashes that Gabriel had been dealing him.

The sound tearing from his chest fades away, echoes off the walls. He coughs and spits, turning his mouth as far away from the sour aroma of the wetness beneath him as he can.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Gabriel covering his face with both his hands, the belt discarded, and there’s a crazy moment when Darrek wants to comfort
him
.

His pleasure gone now, the thrill of receiving a golden shower from Gabriel is overwhelmed by the throbbing ache in his feet.

Gabriel sits heavily on the closed lid of the toilet, and says, “This’ll be over sooner if you just do it.”

“...I don’t... I don’t know if I
can
... sir,” Darrek admits quietly, and his voice sounds more raw and high-pitched with simple, primal vulnerability than he’d expected it to.

“When’s the last time you took a leak?”

“Um... I guess... sometime this afternoon. A while ago. But... with you watching like this... I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You
can
and you’re not getting out of there until you empty your bladder, slave. You will lie in my piss. It will get cold and congeal to your skin and every five minutes that pass will earn you five lashes from my belt. That sound like fun to you?”

“No.”

It comes out as a sharp whine, almost childish, and Darrek’s humiliation grows.

“No, what?” Gabriel barks.

“No,
sir
.”

“Then do it! Piss on yourself and
then
we’ll see how much Kyle wants you!”

“I’m
sorry
, Gabe,” Darrek cries.

“Don’t you fucking
DARE
say my name!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Master,” he wails.

Gabriel’s over to him in a flash, pushing his face down, pressing his lips into the mess.

“Lick it! Lick it up!” he barks. “You like me peeing in your mouth so much, then LICK IT UP!
NOW
!”

He only struggles for a second or two before getting control over himself, getting control over the urge. Tears sting his eyes, his opened mouth held against the cold surface of the tub, urine seeping through, into him, coating his teeth, soaking into the cotton in his nose. Trying to be silent, small, grunting, desperate sounds slip through his defenses as he sticks out his tongue and licks.

“Good boy,” Gabriel says maliciously, releasing him.

A half hour later, Gabriel stands watch, arms folded, by the side of the bathtub. Darrek has turned his face away from him, and Gabriel hears it before he sees it. There’s a small splashing sound as Darrek finally lets go and begins to urinate on himself. Gabriel had gotten momentarily lost in his tangled thoughts but it jerks him right back to reality.

Darrek begins to cry softly as the golden, hot liquid fills the tub even more.

After suffering a total of six more rounds of lashings, his throat is now scraped-raw from his screams, his feet an angry, swollen red.

A full hour passes. His entire body throbbing or numb, his muscles are knotted up so badly that he’s not sure he could get out of his current position even if the ropes were no longer there. Darrek is dizzy with pain, exhaustion, and the pungent odor of the mess he’s been laying in for far too long, and therefore doesn’t feel Gabriel cut the ropes. He doesn’t hear Gabriel flip the switch on the drain to let the urine drain away.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you up,” Gabriel hushes to him.

Darrek blinks, but doesn’t move—can’t move. Untwining the ropes, Gabriel guides Darrek’s arms to his sides, one by one, grips his hands and pulls.

“Come on. Stand up. Let’s get you on your feet, okay?”

“Don’t touch me. I’m disgusting. Just leave. Please,” Darrek rasps vacantly. His muscles quake as he gets his knees under him, and when he begins to stand, he screams again as pins and needles set-in to his previously numb feet, legs, hands, and arms.

“No way. I’m not leaving,” Gabriel argues. “I’m
never
leaving you, Dare.”

He pulls the curtain closed, the metal rings scraping along the bar, and turns on the water. When it gets warm enough, he pulls the lever and the water shoots out from the showerhead onto Darrek’s body. Still gripping Gabriel’s hands tightly enough to bruise, Darrek is silently grateful when Gabriel steps into the tub with him and holds him up.

Not even consciously aware of when Gabriel had shed his own clothes, Darrek shivers even with nearly scalding-hot water pouring over him, his legs threatening to give out from under him.