Breaking Ethan 8 : Impulse control by Bus Pender
........
This is a work of gay fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely unintentional. This text deals with sexual relations between two men. If you find this offensive, if you are underage or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, please leave now. This story is not intended to promote any action on the part of the reader. It is merely a fantasy and I hope you appreciate it as such.
Feedback welcome.
The author retains rights and title to this work. Reproduction of this work without author's consent constitutes a violation of the agreement.
If you enjoy this site, please make a donation.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
........
Ethan held my gaze for a couple of moments. The impish smirk slowly faded, morphed into a more solemn countenance. He looked as though he were considering something of serious import. He tilted his head, looked down and slowly sunk to the floor, down onto his knees, his cuffed wrists sliding down the pipe. He leaned in and kissed the bulge in my pants, then looked up at me with pleading eyes. I didn't respond, I just looked back down at him, expressionless. He again leaned forward and kissed my bulge, twice, then looked back up at me. My cock was tearing at my boxers, my pants. A wet mark had begun to appear where the tent pole strained the fabric. When I failed to respond again, Ethan began nuzzling the bulge. He licked the wet spot, making it wetter, more prominent.
"Ethan, what the fuck, control yourself," I said.
He looked up at me, didn't say a word, then returned his attention to my crotch. He craned in and somehow managed to take the zipper of my trousers between his teeth. He tugged, the zipper inched downward. It was slow going, but Ethan was resolute. He reached the half way mark and eased the zipper over the summit. After clearing the peak, he was able to bring the zipper down more readily as he guided it towards his goal. When he'd reached the bottom and could go no further, he leaned back to assess the situation.
I could feel a gentle rush of cool air breeze across my crotch and my dick swelled further at the prospect of release. Ethan brought his face closer and began delivering soft kisses into my open fly. The warmth of his breath against my tool was intoxicating. Every now and then his tongue would flick through the porthole, randomly grazing my straining member. It tugged more forcefully, demanding to be set free.
Ethan nuzzled the breach, trying to pry it open to release the brute that waited impatiently within. He used his nose to pull the open fly up and to the side in a series of gentle nudges. His efforts were just enough to free my dick as it sprung out and up. It pointed at his face in an accusing gesture. He stared at it for a second and brought his open mouth closer. I stepped back, just beyond his reach. He leaned forward as far as he could go, but his restrained hands prevented him from reaching me. He sighed in frustration and looked up at me.
"Ethan, I'm not sure that you've earned the right to have my cock just now. In case it's slipped your mind, you just fucking bit me on the lip."
"Sorry sir, I don't know what came over me."
"Ethan, you're going to have to learn to control those impulses of yours. What good is it if you do as I command MOST of the time, and then turn around and start doing shit like that when the fit hits you? That's not how a good little boy acts, Ethan."
"I'll do better, sir, it won't happen again, I promise," he said quietly.
"I'm not sure, Ethan. How do I know I can trust you?"
"Please sir, you can trust me, I'll always do what you say."
"You know, you talk a good game Ethan, but really, what's to stop you from doing something like that again, or worse. What if I were to allow you to suck my dick, and then you go ahead and fucking bite it? How do I know you wouldn't do that, Ethan?"
"Sir, I would never do that. Please, let me show you."
"No Ethan, you're going to have to wait. We're going to see how well you can control your impulses."
I brought my right hand over my dick and squeezed gently, forcing an ooze of precum to dribble out and slide down the underside. I held my cock between my fingers and my thumb, and began a slow, gentle up and down rhythm.
"Ethan, you'd like to taste this, wouldn't you," I said.
"Yessir," he gulped.
"Ethe, how badly do you want it?", I asked.
"Badly sir, please, let me show you what a good boy I can be."
I moved forward and my cock made contact with his lips.
"LITTLE boy, Ethan. What a good LITTLE boy you can be."
"Yes sir, I'm a good little boy." He opened his mouth and prepared to take me in.
"No, Ethan, don't. What the fuck did I tell you? You have to stay still. I haven't decided whether or not you can have it."
I slid the head of my cock across his mouth, smearing his lips with precum. I stroked his cheeks, and traced the line of his jaw, his chin, with my dickhead. I brought it back up to his lips and stayed still, the tip of my cock resting on his lower lip. Precum was still oozing and I could tell he wanted to tongue it up.
"That's it, Ethan, just stay still like a good little boy."
"Yessir." My dick bobbed gently against his lip as he uttered the word.
I pulled back and again started stroking my cock, just an inch away from his face. He watched my dick intently, like a dog eyeing a desired bone. At one point his instincts got the better of him. He half closed his eyes and got that dreamy look on his face, leaning in to suck me.
"No, Ethan, don't you fucking understand? I said stay still," I scolded. He stopped, and his mouth flatlined. I was enjoying depriving him of something he wanted so fucking badly, something that was entirely within his reach and yet, ultimately, beyond his grasp. He didn't dare disobey my orders, even though every fibre of his being was urging him towards my cock.
"Ethan, it's obvious you can't control your impulses so you're going to have to go without my cock for today. But I am going to give you a little treat."
I undid my belt and my pants, letting them drop to the floor, along with my boxers. I resumed the slow stroking as my balls, my dick tightened up. I got down on my knees and pointed my tool at the ground, still pulling at it until I reached the point of no return. I let out a long grunt which trailed off into the softness of a sigh as my jizz hit the floor in audible splats. It spilled in determined jets that formed a Jackson Pollock pattern of splotches in front of Ethan. I squeezed out the last drops of cum. A final string hovered undecidedly, a miniature pearl suspended by a translucent filament. I gave my dick a couple of gentle shakes and the tiny orb made contact with the ground, the glistening connection finally severing.
"Oops, I made a bit of a mess Ethan. Be a good little boy and clean it up."
He looked frustrated, confused, not knowing what to do.
"Sir, my hands, I can't .. "
"Ethe, for fuck's sake, are you that dense? Get down and lick it up. Clean up the mess I made."
He looked up at me, disbelieving, embarrassed, then bent forward, animal style, and brought his face towards the puddles of white. He began to lick up the goop, tentatively at first, and then with purpose. I could see gooey strings yielding reluctantly as he lapped up my spooge.
"That's right Ethan, lick it all up like a good little boy," I cooed.
Ethan continued lapping at the bleachy pools. It was fortunate for him that he's meticulous at keeping his place clean, which meant he was essentially licking at a spotless floor. Had we had this encounter at my place, the silky puddles would have been littered with unnameable tiny particles and debris, the consequence of being a slob a heart.
When he'd finished, he brought himself back up. The look of humiliation had been replaced by one of pride. His lips were slick, glistening. We were both kneeling, face to face. Neither of us said a word. Ethan leaned forward and brought his lips to mine, gave me a tender peck. And another. A third time, and his tongue slipped between my lips. I found myself involuntarily kissing him back, through his gummy lips. For a brief moment, the thought occurred to me that he might try to bite me again. I decided to take the chance, knowing that I could exact a more decisive punishment at any time.
Ethan hadn't swallowed all my cum. He'd held on to a small pocket of it, tucked away in a remote corner of his mouth no doubt. And now that we were fully kissing, he released it slowly amidst the general confluence of our shared slobber. I could taste myself, gentle murky streams seeping in and around my mouth. And I didn't care. I actually enjoyed this level of co-mingling, found myself getting hard at the thought of what we were doing.
Ethan broke away from our kiss, looked me in the eye, all serious and sober, then leaned forward again and started licking my face. The side of my mouth, my cheek, up to my ear, probing the hollows with his persistent tongue. I smiled, reveling in his puppy affection. He worked his way up further, past my temple, no longer licking but dry kissing me as he made his upward progress, ending with a peck on the forehead. It was then that I realized that he was getting up, had risen, had slowly worked his way to a standing position, with me still on my knees. Now it was his cock pointing directly at me, protruding from a bare fleshy landscape, all smooth, clean, fresh. Ethan's dick was leaking pre-cum, a slow, purposeful current.
I wasn't thinking, and merely responded. I opened my mouth and took him in. Took in my sweet little Ethan, slowly wrapping my lips around his swollen head, allowing my tongue to capture his salty emissions. Flicking at the sweet spot beneath his head, enjoying the tight little indenture that pointed towards his pee hole. Feeling his cock head swell even more in response to my attention. Easing him further into me, my tongue toying with the underside in playful sweeps. I was able to deep throat him and my tongue took strategic swipes at his tight little ball sack, my nose grazing the softness of his silky shaven skin.
Ethan gasped and tried to go deeper into me. And I continued to take him, bringing him in further.
"Sir, I can't, please, can I, unh . . . . . "
I pulled off of him, just in time.
"No Ethan, you can't cum. You have to hold it in," I said.
I began flicking at his dick head with my tongue, licking the bottom of his shaft and teasing his pee hole.
"Oh god, sir, unh, I can't .. "
I pulled away again and took his dick in my hand, applying gentle pressure to the underside, just below the head.
"You are not to cum, Ethan," I instructed.
"Yessir, unh," he sighed.
His dick was twitching, but the absence of stimulation and the pressure I was applying to his urethra made it impossible for him to cum.
"Unh, sir, please, could you, unh, let go, I have to .., " he whined.
"Shut up, Ethan."
"Unh, yessir," he grunted.
I waited patiently until the twitching subsided, then eased the pressure; a slow pearly rivulet oozed out of his pee hole. It settled on my index finger, all thick and clinging. I stood up, brought my finger to Ethan's lips.
"Eat your cum, Ethan," I instructed.
Ethan sighed, part frustration, part resignation. But he did as he was told. He lapped up the beginnings of his aborted ejaculation.
I returned my attention to his dick, fingering him back into hardness. It wasn't long before he tightened up once more, preparing for the anticipated discharge. At the last second, I stopped again, applying pressure to the underside of his shaft and waiting out the futile spasms, finally easing off and harvesting a second smaller runnel of generative fluid. It was thinner, runnier than the first round but I was still able to capture the milky fluid with my fingers and feed it to my reluctant Ethan.
Again I brought him back to full hardness, again frustrating his body's procreative inclinations with a gentle squeeze and release. More bits of cum for Ethan to lap up. I repeated this process several more times while he protested, pleaded and finally went silent. In the final bout, only a tiny speck of fluid, flecked with white, emerged. I fed that to him as well. Then, when I felt that Ethan's orgasm was sufficiently ruined, I gobbed onto his softening dick and began jerking him savagely.
"OW, sir, it hurts .. unh, sir, please, OW, I can't .. "
"You have permission to cum now, Ethan, if you're able to, that is."
And he was. Sort of. I could tell he experienced some form of orgasm, but it certainly wasn't the release he was hoping for. His face contorted, so cute, then he sighed and looked down with disappointment. He crumpled forward and discharged a couple of clear drops which dribbled onto my fingers. I held them aloft and had him lick them off.
"How was that, Ethe?, I asked.
"Sir, why did you do that?" he asked.
"What, you didn't enjoy it?" I asked.
"Sir, it felt like nothing, like it was all build-up but, um, it didn't go anywhere. I feel like I didn't even cum, even though, um, I kinda did. It was weird."
"You're lucky I let you cum at all, Ethan. Just remember that the next time you feel one of your impulses coming on."
"Yessir." He said it in a downward draggy kind of way, like a kid who didn't get his own way but knows there's nothing he can do about it.
I pulled up my pants and made myself presentable. I locked Ethan back into his cage and pocketed the key. Then I released him from the restraints. He was dazed and began massaging his wrists, I guess he'd been in the cuffs a bit too long. While he was soothing himself, I made my way to the door and opened it decisively; Mrs Dremel was in the hallway, hovering, dusting, arranging, snooping. I greeted her enthusiastically.
"Hey Mrs Dremel, how ya doin'? Ethan has something he wants to show you," I shouted.
I heard him gasp in the background, and turned to take in what I knew would be a comical Ethan moment. And he didn't disappoint. He was still naked and evidently stunned that I'd opened the door and that Mrs Dremel was right there, looming large. But Ethan's a quick thinker; he'd grabbed the entranceway mirror that I'd left in the kitchen and held it in front of himself, obscuring his crotch, torso and the top half of his legs. The mirror was pointed towards the doorway, and I could see my reflection, alongside Mrs Dremel's. Our reflections merged in the glass, and they looked warped, out of proportion; I was kind of stretchy and elongated, like elastic man, and Mrs Dremel was all heavy and compacted. Welcome to the fun house.
Ethan had a stupid grin on his face, evidently trying to make light of the situation, like it was perfectly normal for him to be naked and carrying around this big fucking mirror. Hilarious.
"Just polishing up this mirror, Mrs D. Yup, sure looks better now," he said earnestly as he sidled, crab-like, into his bedroom and shut the door behind him.
I stifled a giggle and regarded Mrs Dremel. Her face had gone from that tight pruney look she gets every time she sees me to a pure wtf expression of absolute bewilderment. She didn't move for almost a minute. When she finally snapped out of it, she didn't say a word. She turned towards me slowly, just long enough to give me her trademark glare, and then abruptly went into her flat, closing her door noiselessly behind her.
My job there was done; I let myself out.