seductive voice.
"You're not thirteen anymore, are you?"
"No. Nor are you twenty-one thinking all you had to do was prove you could sing and your career would be made."
"No. That's true. I'm definitely not that kid anymore."
Will gripped his weighted cock and Sinn thought his heart would stop with the feel of that hand on his sensitized, painfully engorged prick. "Do something with it rather than fucking touch it. You're killing me."
"Are you sure you're ready for what comes next? Do you want me, Sinn? Do you really want me to take what I've wanted for so long?"
"You've fixated on me."
"Maybe. Or maybe I know how to set a goal and go after exactly what I want."
"You want me."
Will's fingers played lightly over Sinn's stretched out cock. He reached beneath to tease his balls.
"Ahhh!" Sinn didn't think he could stand much more of this foreplay. He was feeling–he was not numb, he was dying–he was alive in a way he'd never been before.
"Are you ready for me? You haven't been fucked in a long time have you? I'm a man who knows what he wants and willing do what it takes to achieve that goal. Whatever happens, I'm going to make sure you don't forget me. Not that boy in Reverie–he's gone. But you will remember me."
"Do what you want."
"But do you want it, too? Do you need it–would you beg for it?"
Oh yeah, he'd beg. He wanted all of it. How that boy in Reverie had grown up to be a man with the ability to exquisitely torture him, he had no idea. But then he was no dreamy musician anymore either. Sinn Midnite and Will were totally different creatures, a lifetime removed from a dusty Montana ghost town. And whoever they were now, Sinn wanted Will like he'd never wanted anyone–anything in his life. Maybe even more than his music. And that was saying something.
"Please," He found himself begging. "Fuck me. Beat me. Do whatever you want to me. Own me." He licked his lips. "Make me your bitch," he whispered. He was defeated by his own yearnings, his need to be free of the shackles of his memory holding him back. He was never more certain that Will was the only man to help him break free to live again.
"Then I'll show you what it is to be mine, my darling. My tastes have been finely honed, not distorted like yours. Clean and bright and rich. And you'll soon learn exactly what I mean."
Sinn already knew. He already understood. And he was ready to accept whatever demand Will made upon him. Suddenly, everything was different. And if nothing else, he had to find out if he could go the distance. He had to have this man's cock inside him. And he would do whatever it took to make that happen.
And then Will removed the tit clamps. As blood surged back into Sinn's chest he felt like his body was on fire. He fought against the restraints. Will rubbed his chest, massaged his chest, until finally Sinn could breathe again. Then Will removed the weight on his cock, but he didn't unlace his engorged prick. All Sinn could do at this point was feel. He was only half aware when Will released his arms from the restraints, too fully immersed in sensation to even think about what Will might have planned next.
CHAPTER 8
Will led Sinn over to the horse. He bent him forward. Ass out. He re-situated his legs to a wider stance. He stepped in front of the horse. He took one of Sinn's arms and fastened his hands around the silver metal grip situated on one of the legs of the horse. Then he did the same with his other arm.
"Hold the grips. Keep holding them. I'm not going to use the cuffs. I'm trusting you to do exactly as you're told. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I get it," Sinn said. Will saw him tighten his grip around the metal handgrips.
"Don't move. If you want me to stop, just say the word, "Boomer."
"Boomer?" Sinn's head shot up and he turned in the direction of Will's voice.
"You remember Boomer, right?"
"I haven't thought of that mangy old yellow tom for...a long time."
"He took to you like nobody else," Will said.
"I never