COMPLETED | Take Me Down The Rabbit Hole (BDSM | 18+)

XVIII

Aspen wondered if he could ever have what he and Alan had without the guilt attached to it.
The thought allowed another tear to escape his eyes, but it didn't make it far before Alan wiped it away.
"Talk to me," he said in a soft voice. "Tell me how you feel."
Aspen knew he was asking about the physical pain, and if there was anything he could do to make it better, but there was only one thing Aspen wanted.
More.
He whispered the word, and Alan, who had been laying next to him sat up, and put his head in his palm, elbow resting on the mattress.
"More?" he questioned. "Are you sure you can handle that?"
"I haven't cried enough."
Some sort of emotion played over Alan's face - the quirk of a lip, a reflection in his eyes - and he gracefully stood, reaching for the buckles on the cuffs around Aspen's ankles.
There was a comfortable kind of silence, and while Alan freed him from the cuffs and then from the rope restraining his legs, Aspen snuggled his cheek into the pillow.
He felt the blood rush back into his legs the more the rope loosened, even though he hadn't bound it tightly, and he imagined that this must be some sort of ecstasy - depraved, kinky ecstasy.
"You know," Alan said, cutting the silence with his words, "I think I know what will make you cry. Get on your hands and knees."
He heard the soft clink of the chain and the buckles on the cuffs as Alan picked them up and joined him at the head of the bed.
Quickly, Aspen got on his hands and knees.
Alan looped the cuff through the bars on the headboard. "Hold onto it," he instructed, grabbing Aspen's wrists and placing his hands on the metal rod that connected the bars at the top before securing the cuffs around them.
Then he walked away, leaving Aspen to shiver in the soft breeze that entered the room through the window and the knowledge that people could see him like that.
Were they sipping their drinks and commenting on his body as they marveled in the anonymous comfort of the two-way mirror?
Were they even watching at all?
The door of the closet creaked, and this time, when Aspen turned his head, he could see what Alan was doing - or at least parts of it.
"No peeking!" Alan scolded, immediately closing the closet door, hands empty. "Naughty boy."
Oh.
Aspen inhaled sharply. Alan had never called him that during a scene.
He blinked and flinched when Alan was standing in front of the closet, hands in his hips. "Now I'll have to make you cry even more."
"You didn't say I couldn't-" Aspen started, desperately clinging to the last piece of pride left in his body.
"I thought you wanted to cry," Alan challenged, and then, he reached back and pulled something out from behind his back.
A blindfold.
Aspen suddenly noticed that unlike him, Alan was still fully clothed.
"I do," Aspen choked out. "Please, Sir."
Alan hummed. "Remember, I'm keeping count of your mishaps tonight."
The blindfold was still dangling from Alan's fingers - and Alan noticed he was looking.
"There has to be some way to keep you from peeking, pet," he said, shrugging as he made his way toward the bed.
Before Aspen could protest, the piece of fabric covered his eyes.
"Patience, pet," Alan whispered in his ear, "or you might not get what you want after all." 
And so Aspen was left in the dark - literally - about what was going to happen next.
But he could still hear.
The closet door opened again and closed after a moment.
He could feel Alan next to him, and then there was silence.
Aspen's fingers began to itch with the need to rip the blindfold off, and he wondered if he could manage with his hands chained to the headboard. But then again, he would only get himself in trouble again.
The  bed dipped, and suddenly, there was the cold sensation of lube on his opening, a finger that breached into him and drew back, a hand on his waist and one on his ass, digging into his abused skin.
"Are you ready, Aspen?"
"Yes," Aspen said immediately, and then, "For what?"
Alan didn't answer.
Another hand on his waist, nails digging into his skin as his behind was pulled back against- skin. What?
"Deep breath, pet," Alan mumbled into his ear, and then, for the second time that night, his asshole became the object of invasion.
The sensation knocked the air from Aspen's lungs, over and over, with every thrust that followed.
Someone groaned behind him, and Aspen wondered for a second if he had made that sound without having noticed.
One of the hands left his hips, and branded around his throat, laying itself over the damn collar that was already there - but not squeezing. Aspen almost yearned for that sensation, for the moment he could truly and entirely succumb to the desires that Alan had done up in him.
"Please," he whispered, with what felt like his last breath.
"What do you want, pet?" Alan asked. "Say it."
You're going to have to learn to ask me for things and take pride in your needs, you understand that? I'm not going to be waiting around for you.
Another breath that didn't feel like it was enough air at all. Should he say it? Should he tell his secret? Admit to himself - and to Alan - that he had fallen deeper than he had ever intended?
Another breath.
He tried to turn his head to look at Alan, but then he remembered the blindfold - a minuscule detail, temporarily forgotten about.
As always,  Alan was one step ahead of him.
And Alan wouldn't wait up.
"Choke me, Sir," he ground out. "Please."
Alan didn't give a verbal response, but he changed the way his fingers were arranged around Aspen's throat.
For a moment, all Aspen felt was the pleasure of feeling, seeing and knowing nothing at all as his mind gave in to the sensation of Alan's fingers taking his breath away.