George knew it would be torture. But god, he wasn't prepared for just how awful it was to be horny with no hope of relief.
George kept the pout on his face as he followed Dream around the party. Walking felt so awkward - between his stinging butt and overwhelming arousal, and still, without the comfort of panties, George was in constant fear that someone was going to get a peek under his skirt. He just had to wear a short skirt to the party, but of course, he hadn't planned on losing his underwear and his pride that night. Despite his discomfort, George stuck close to Dream and tried his best to be obedient - at first.
George warned Dream that being a good boy was very, very hard.
He wanted Dream to feel the same torture. How could he stand to wait? It had turned Dream on to spank George, and George could see that same pleasure on Dream's face every time he gave him an order. But that meant that even more intense than Dream's desire for s.εﾒ, was his desire to make George suffer, to make him desperate, to keep him denied. That was terrifying.
George did try to be good. But his humiliating tasks kept him wet, and the longer it went on, the more his frustration grew. George began to plot a desperate escape to the bathroom, where he could jerk one off quickly and maybe Dream wouldn't notice.
It was approaching midnight. Kegs had been brought out, people were getting thrown in the pool and shedding their costumes in the water. Dream and George were easily the most sober people there, not that anyone seemed to care. Dream kept spotting people he knew, stopping for conversations, laughing and joking. He seemed to know everyone - even the people that hadn't gone to their high school. Not only that, but they all seemed to really like him. People's faces lit up when they saw Dream, they spoke faster when they answered him. Seeing their enthusiasm actually made George feel proud. He was the one at Dream's side, he was the one getting drinks for Dream's friends.
But George was also the one squirming with horniness, his ass still red and stinging, as he desperately tried to resist the urge to grind up against Dream's leg like a dog.
George felt proud when he was dating Quackity. He basked in people's envy, drinking in their jealousy. Quackity and George had been each other's status symbols - although they were pretty shitty ones. It was the only thing George really had to hold onto from high school and that...that was pretty lame.
Unlike Dream, who apparently had not only friendships but adoration. George always remembered Dream as being alone, and maybe he was alone before he'd gotten expelled. But that had changed. A lot had changed.
Someone convinced the drunk DJ to play a creepy, haunting track to set the mood, so instead of upbeat dance music the yard was suddenly filled with the slow pull of violin strings and a thumping drum. The cool air had grown absolutely chilly, and George wrapped his arms around himself as Dream stood talking about computer operating systems and Java-something with a bespectacled couple. Glancing around, hoping to find somewhere close by he could go to warm up, George noticed another group had just arrived to the party.
His heart plummeted into his stomach. Cold dread shot through his veins. Without realizing it, George squished himself tightly against Dream's side.
"What's up?" Dream said, glancing back in the way George was staring. "What's wrong-"
"Clowns," George hissed. "There's fucking clowns."
Three men were walking across the yard from the side gate, beers in hand, laughing and shoving one another. They wore matching black jumpsuits, their hair was buzzed short, and all three wore horrible, pasty white face paint. Black shapes had been filled in around their eyes, and their lips had been exaggerated into horrible jagged grins with black paint.
George quickly turned away from staring at them. They weren't the typical bright circus clowns, but they still made George's stomach turn.
"Let's go inside," George said quickly.
But Dream had spotted the approaching clowns and recognition lit up his face. "I know those guys," he said. "Hey Punz! Sam!"
"Don't fucking call them!" George gripped his arm in absolute horror. One nervous glance back told George the clowns had heard their names called, and were heading directly for them.
"Nope, no, no-"
Dream gripped George's arm, preventing him from sprinting for the house in terror. "Are you..." Dream laughed, as if in disbelief. "Are you actually scared of clowns?"
"Yes!" George whispered. "They're fucking creepy and gross and - oh my god -"
They were right there, enfolding Dream in a giant hug, patting him on the back, meaningless conversation droning from their mouths. The only thing George could focus on was those horrible painted faces. Their exaggerated smiles only got worse as they bared their teeth and smiled.
Ugh. Gross. It took every bit of self-control George had to not run for the house. He grit his teeth and wrung his hands behind his back, keeping an awkward distance. Dream would scold him if he left, but George wanted as much space between him and the clowns as possible.
Unfortunately for George, his staring was noticed. One of the clowns spotted George shifting coldly from foot to foot, and decided to be polite.
"Hey, hi, I'm Sam," he extended a slim hand. Long fingers, pale skin. George absolutely cringed as he shook it. "You okay? You look a little, uh-"
"He's afraid of clowns," Dream said, sounding so amused George wanted to slap him. "He's my slave for the night."
"Don't just fucking say that," George snapped, but it was too late. The secret was out.
"Well done, my man," one of them clapped Dream on the back, as Sam gave George a long, appraising look.
"Aren't you George NotFound?" he said. "You were a cheerleader?"
"Yeah," George answered begrudgingly.
He was trying to figure out a way to hide himself behind Dream - anything to put some kind of barrier between himself and them. It felt silly, but George couldn't help it. Clowns were creepy, and gross, and uncanny - something felt wrong about them.
"Let me introduce you properly," Dream said, hooking his arm around George's waist. George pressed against Dream, hard. "This is Sam, Punz, and Schlatt."
"Cool, hi, yeah, nice to meet you," George muttered, forcing a very tight, very uncomfortable smile onto his face.
Now that he was forced to look at them straight-on, George could tell that beneath all the makeup, they were really normal looking guys - if not pretty attractive. Dream explained how they'd all been in metal shop together, and that Punz had started a band, but George was growing more distracted the longer he looked at them up close. There was a peak of colorful tattoos at the top of Punz's jumpsuit, Sam was wearing multiple rings that looked hand-made, and Schlatt had fit large, stretched black tunnels in his ears.
Somewhere in the mingling of George's fear and torturous horniness, a very weird reaction was occurring. They looked terrifying, but their bodies were muscular and their smiles were almost charming. For how creepy they looked, they actually seemed...nice. One of them was wearing cologne, something bright and citrus-y that contrasted with Dream's dark, musky scent. It gave George a little rush, the thought of them touching him - but god, that awful clown makeup...
"He's shaking!" Punz laughed. "It's just paint! We're not gonna eat you."
"Or maybe we will," Schlatt snapped his teeth, and George gripped Dream's hand, gulping down his scream.
"I'm just cold," George muttered angrily, as the heat rushed to his face.
He felt like a cornered rabbit, waiting to see which wolf would have a go at him first. He was also a very horny rabbit: instead of feeling sick with fear, this was giving him an endorphin-high.
George had never liked clowns, never. But facing them meant he was pleasing Dream, it meant he was being a good boy, and it meant he was one step closer to Dream finally taking him inside and fucking his brains out.
"Don't worry about scaring him, boys," Dream said, giving George a little squeeze. His grip was reassuringly tight. "It's good training for him."
"Is he from the club?" Punz asked.
George had no idea what "club" he was referring to, but Dream apparently did. He shook his head.
"No, he's a newbie. Remember Quackity, from high school? He was his boyfriend."
"Yeah, yeah, I thought so," Punz was nodding. "Who knew Mr Popular would be into that kinky shit."
"He's learning," Dream smiled.
George still wanted to hit Dream: for denying him, for spanking him, for making him wait, for making him stand there and face his fear. He managed to hold his fists in check, but not his tongue.
"Dream...can't we...can't we just..."
"Don't you know it's rude to whisper around friends?" Dream chastised, with a tone in his voice that let George know just how much he enjoyed getting to scold him in front of them. "Can't we just what? Go inside so you can finally get fucked?"
George had turned red from head to toe. His eyes darted back and forth between the clowns as they laughed. But they didn't seem at all confused, or even surprised by the situation. Maybe they were used to this. Maybe this was Dream's thing. The sudden thought that perhaps there were other boys taking Dream's commands and kissing his boots invaded George's mind, and jealousy gripped him with shocking intensity.
"Let's just go back inside," George whined. "Please Dream...you've made me wait long enough..."
George's hand snaked down Dream's chest and over his jeans. He felt his hardness and squeezed, looking up at Dream with wide, pleading eyes. Dream didn't even flinch.
"You know better, angel," Dream warned. "This is on my time, not yours. And you're neglecting to properly address me."
George couldn't say it in front of everyone, he couldn't. He looked back and forth between them nervously, and his embarrassment was only made worse when he noticed the eager expressions on the clowns' faces. They were enjoying seeing him squirm.
"I can't say it here," George winced. "I wanna go inside. Come on." His voice sounded petulant and utterly bratty, even to his own ears.
"More worried about what they think of you than pleasing me, Gogy?" Dream said, and tsked. "That's not how good boys behave."
George could sense an impending punishment and whimpered, furious as he snatched his hands away from Dream and folded them against his own chest. George couldn't take it anymore. He had to get off. Now.
"Gotta use the restroom," George muttered, before Dream could continue his scolding. "I'll be right back."
He expected Dream to try to stop him. Instead Dream just said slowly, "Don't take too long."
If George was going to come back to another spanking, then he was at least going to get off first.
The restroom was occupied, of course, and George waited outside the door impatiently until a drunk girl finally stumbled out. A line had formed behind him, so George knew he had to be quick. There, alone in the quiet room, he finally got a good look at himself in the mirror. His hair still looked good, and his makeup was luckily intact, though it was only a matter of time before that changed. Curious, George turned and pulled up his skirt so he could get a look at his ass in the mirror. So red - still hot and stinging from Dream's hand. Just remembering his position, held so firmly in place and helpless to escape, made George bite his lip and curl his toes.
God, he wanted Dream to do that again. He wanted Dream to hurt him. Hurt him, fuck him, make him scream. He had irritated Dream, George knew he had, so there was at least the possibility of another merciless spanking awaiting him when he got outside. What if Dream did it in front of his friends? What if there was no privacy this time?
Still looking back at his reddened ass in the mirror, George leaned against the wall in front of him and slipped his hand beneath his skirt. His fingers slid over his tip and George was jerking off quickly, furiously. He couldn't take too long...people were waiting... He bit his lip to keep quiet, thinking of Dream's hand slapping over his reddened skin.
A harsh knock pounded on the door and George gasped out, "H-hold on...just a minute..."
He was so close. He had gone so long in such a heightened state of arousal that it didn't take much. His fingers were slick, and he closed his eyes. More pounding at the door, dammit...
George imagined Dream bending him over, holding him tight under his arm, scolding him as the clowns watched, smacking him until he wept openly, uncontrollably -
More knocking. It was angry now, insistent. Fuck, George couldn't cum like this.
With a loud growl of frustration, George tugged down his skirt, yanked open the door and snapped, "Jesus, I'm done, okay, you don't have to be such an asshole-"
Dream shoved George back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. He grabbed George, gripping his arms, and pressed him back against the wall. George was guiltily aware of the stickiness of his arousal on his fingers, a damning indicator of his disobedience.
"Sh-shit...Dream..."
Dream loomed over George, looking at him as if he wanted to eat him alive. "What do you think you're doing, angel?" Dream said. He grabbed George's wrist, pulling up his hand. "What's all this on your fingers, hm? Did you think you could just sneak off and do something so naughty?"
George's breath shuddered as he faced Dream. "I...um...there were people waiting out there..."
"Not anymore," Dream smiled. "It's a big house, there's other bathrooms they can use. I pointed them in the right direction. We need a little time to ourselves."
"Are you going to hurt me?" George whispered.
"Oh yes. More than you can imagine. Do you remember your safe word?"
"Yes."
George should have been terrified but his entire body was buzzing with anticipation. His fantasies of punishment were nothing compared to the real thing.
"If I cross a line you better damn well use it. Do you understand?"
George nodded again. His dick hardened and he whined, squeezing his legs together. If he had seen himself a couple years ago how he was now - whining and dripping in front of the boy he'd laughed at - George would have been horrified. He wouldn't have believed it.
He still hardly believed it.
"It's time for another lesson, Gogy," Dream said, looking George up and down. "It was only a couple hours ago that you were getting that cute little ass of yours beat. Did you forget what that feels like already?"
Dream released George's arms, and reached around to squeeze his stinging ass. George yelped, dissolving into moans of pain. Dream's touch was electrifying. George wanted Dream to grip him harder, rougher. He wanted Dream to slam him against the wall again.
"I didn't forget!" Dream's hold on George's ass pulled George close against Dream, and George pressed closer. "You make it so damn difficult to obey! And you didn't tell me not to touch myself!"
"You little brat," Dream chuckled. "I told you I wanted to see you suffer. I wanted to see you squirm. You don't get to take that pleasure away from me." He shook his head in disapproval. "I really wish I had my paddle on me...god, turning your ass black and blue with that sweet thing would have you obeying as you should."
George was shaking. He didn't know if he wanted to mask his fear with anger, or his horniness with sassiness, or if Dream's threats were going to break him and have him begging again. Dream owned a paddle...he literally owned instruments to inflict pain and humiliation. He was such a freak.
And god, George loved it. He wished Dream had his paddle with him too.
Instead of sass, George went for a different tactic: sweetness. "I'm trying so hard to be good!" George whined. "Come on, Dream- er...Master...please...if you'd just let me get off..."
"I don't bargain for good behavior, angel. God, don't you know how long I've wanted to do this? Do you have any idea how good it feels to punish the boy who always laughed at me?" Dream cradled George's face in his hands, his hold tender as he kept George pressed to the wall. "Getting to watch you whine and complain and get so red...but still do everything I say? It's too good."
"You're a jerk," George whimpered. "I want it so bad, Dream..."
"What?" Dream said softly. "What do you want?"
"I want you! I just want to fuck, please, you've got me so fucking turned on I can't stand it, it's going to drive me crazy!" George gasped, his desperation exploding. "Please don't make me keep waiting, please just - just - bend me over and fuck me!"
Inside George was cringing, but he couldn't help it. If begging was the only thing that would end this torturous wait, then that's what he had to do.
Dream was chuckling, then laughing aloud, and when George finally fell silent, Dream said pityingly, "Oh, Gogy. Poor angel. You're gonna get fucked, trust me. Soon enough you'll be fucked so hard you won't be walking straight for a week. But first..." He pulled something out of his pocket: that thin bit of cotton and elastic that he'd taken from George earlier, his thong. Dream dangled it in front of George's face. "Do you still want this back?"
"Yes please," George's voice was small, defeated.
If Dream was offering George's thong back, that meant more waiting. George felt as if he could have cried from sheer desire.
"I can't believe you refused to put this in your mouth for your dare," Dream said. "Think how different this all could have been if you had."
"I couldn't! Not in front of everyone..."
"Pride doesn't have a place in your service to me." Dream brought the thong close to George's face, caressing the lacey fabric against his cheek. "I just can't let that dare go, Gogy. I really wanted to see you put these in your mouth."
George gulped. "Dream...please..."
"Put them in your mouth." Dream's voice was gentle. "Put them in your mouth, face the wall, and bend over."
George's mind raced. Bend over...He would be completely exposed. Dream would see all of him...every dripping piece of flesh. Dream had seen George when he spanked him over his lap, of course...but every exposure felt just as intimate, just as degrading, and just as exciting.
Unbidden fantasies flashed through George's head. He thought of Dream's fingers caressing him...parting him...pressing inside him...
George opened his mouth, awaiting his gag. There was a flicker of shock at George's acquiescence on Dream's face, before a fire lit in his eyes. Dream pressed the thong into George's mouth - not quite a mouthful but enough to smother any sounds George might attempt. George could have spit it out easily, but he closed his mouth just enough to keep it inside. He met Dream's eyes for a moment - a long, tense moment - before he slowly turned, bent at the waist, and clutched his ankles.
George's heels made the position particularly difficult. The entirety of his ass was on display, his short skirt useless. Dream boots stood close behind George, but said nothing as the moments passed, moments that felt like an eternity.
"Spread your legs," Dream said. "I want you exposed. All of you."
George shuffled his feet apart, and the cool air kissed over his flesh. He waited, and his legs began to tremble. The difficulty of the position, and his ever-growing arousal, was going to make this an impossible pose to hold for long. Again, Dream was silent. George almost couldn't bear it.
"Spread yourself open for me."
A groan escaped George. Every command came so slowly, so methodically. Dream was giving George the time to linger, to truly feel the depths of his degradation. George hated him for it. Hated it...loved it...wanted more of it. George reached back, trying to get a hold on his ass. His fingers were slick, and he could barely manage to pull his ass open, unable to get any grip.
Dream was chuckling at the state of George as he finally managed to spread himself apart. God, George felt so filthy. He felt so exposed. Dream didn't touch him, he didn't even take a step closer. George wished Dream would. He wanted Dream's touch so desperately.
The saliva was building up in George's mouth. Unable to swallow, he'd start drooling soon. Humiliation on top of humiliation. George's fingers slipped and he had to readjust, pressing his lips apart, exposing his wet and leaking hole. He heard Dream's breath change - it might have been a gasp, or perhaps a soft laugh.
"God, it's so pathetic how needy you are." Dream's voice wasn't cruel, it wasn't taunting. He said it like it was simply a fact, and George whimpered his agreement around the thong. "Running away to the bathroom to touch yourself, such a naughty boy. Been a while since you got off, hm?"
If George had been able to form coherent words, he would have agreed. He had been with other guys since he broke up with Quackity; casual s.εﾒ was his favorite stress reliever. But this was more than just sex: this had awakened another desire in George, a lust for something cruel and unusual that he'd never had fulfilled. It was a glaring, roaring monster that demanded to be satiated.
Dream squatted down, staring at George where his head hung down between his legs. He smiled: an utterly sadistic, wolfish grin.
"Or are you just that much of a freak that being ordered to lick some weird guy's boots is getting you this hot and bothered? Is being spanked and made to beg for mercy nearly enough to get you off? Such a fucking freak." His gaze shifted, and George knew he was staring directly at his hole. "Service and discipline," Dream murmured. "That's what you're lacking. You can't expect to be rewarded for following such simple commands."
George wanted it so bad - hadn't Dream made him wait long enough? Drool gathered against George's lips and began to drip. The urge to spit out his thong was growing, but the discomfort felt right. The longer George endured it the better he felt, because it meant he was still obeying. He was still following Dream's orders. He was earning his reward.
"George, look at me."
George had closed his eyes without noticing, but he opened them to gaze at Dream, upside-down between his spread legs.
"Finger your ass," Dream said softly. "Just one finger. Slowly."
"Please...please, fuck..." The words were incomprehensible, swallowed up by the thong.
How could George bring himself to do that in front of Dream? He'd see everything. The choice to say no was there. Dream had given him a safety word and demanded he use it, if the need arose. But George didn't feel that need. He felt humiliated...embarrassed...turned on... He was frightened, but not in a bad way. He was not frightened of what Dream would do to him, but of what he was willing to do at Dream's command.
With one finger, slowly, George pressed inside his ass. He had to move carefully so his blue acrylics wouldn't poke. Only one finger wasn't enough, but the subtle stimulation made George's breath shudder. George closed his eyes again, unable to bear looking at Dream as he watched him.
"Fuck yourself. Come on, Gogy. In and out."
Why did he have to make it worse by talking George through it? George slid his finger out, then slowly all the way back in. Then again, and again. He could feel the weight of Dream's gaze on him, even with his eyes closed. With every thrust of his finger, George was drawing out more wetness. His dick felt swollen with need. Instead of continuing to hold himself open, George moved his other hand down between his legs, and slid his fingers over his dick, sending shocks of stimulation through his trembling legs. He rested his head against the wall to keep his balance. Drool dripped down his chin as he moaned, struggling to keep his knees straight. Unbidden, George added a second finger inside himself, pumping in and out.
He was groaning loudly, not caring if anyone heard him, no thoughts of how grossly embarrassing it was. He was getting close...so close...god, it felt so good, his knees were buckling...
"George, stop. Now."
Dream's voice cut through everything, like a switch being flicked in George's brain. The fact that Dream was laughing startled George almost instantly out of his desperate, horny fog. He withdrew his fingers, swearing around his gag. He'd been close...so damn close! He should have kept going, he should have had his pleasure when he had the chance! Instead George stood up so quickly that his head spun.
George pulled the thong from his mouth and tossed it to the floor, then turned to face Dream with a glare on his face and his back pressed to the wall. Dream squatted there, looking up at George, and bared his sharp teeth in a grin.
"How funny," Dream murmured. "You'd rather obey me than get yourself off. Even though it frustrates you...you'd still rather obey. That's good. Much better."
His grin widened as he stood up. He grasped a hand around George's throat, but he didn't squeeze - not yet. He just held George there, pinned to the wall. George's breath was unsteady, hot and heavy in his lungs as he trembled. With his free hand, Dream grasped George's wrist and brought it up, looking at the fingers he used to pleasure himself.
"You're more fun than I expected," Dream said softly.
Gently, he took George's finger in his mouth. George gasped at the contact. His tongue slid over George's skin, savoring every drop of his juices, Dream's mouth embracing George in a way that was both terrifying and arousing. Dream's lips were tender. His teeth grazed over George's skin as he sucked, his mouth enclosing George with a suction that he couldn't help but imagine being applied to other parts of himself. His grip on George's throat tightened, pressing him back, making his breathing difficult but not impossible.
George sucked in his breath as best he could while Dream slowly withdrew George's finger from his mouth. Dream licked his lips, and his eyes met George's. Dream's look was vicious, hungry. His gaze flickered from George's eyes to his mouth, a silent question, a command Dream didn't dare give.
So George gave it instead.
"Do it," George demanded. "Kiss me."
His hand remained gripped around George's throat as he claimed George's mouth, his body pressed up against George's. The metal straps on the harness Dream wore were digging into George's chest, and the pain made George want to cling to Dream harder. George gripped Dream's hips, then clawed up his back, wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer as their tongues intertwined. Dream's taste was mint, faint tobacco and beer. Dream bit George's lip, laughed at his gasp, then kissed him again. It was a struggle between them for who could be rougher, who could demand more, as if they were trying to meld their bodies together. George scratched Dream's neck, determined to break the skin, and Dream shuddered against George.
Suddenly Dream picked George up, slammed him back against the wall, and held him there as they kissed. George wrapped his legs around Dream, his hands stroked over Dream's hair and knocked his vinyl hat to the ground. George grasped the hair at the nape of Dream's neck mercilessly, hoping to feel Dream twitch with pain. He bit at Dream's lip until Dream moaned into his mouth and George tasted iron. George licked the dripping blood, his tongue sliding over Dream's chin and across his mouth, savoring the violent taste. Dream tangled one hand in George's hair and pulled so hard his scalp ached, while the other hand squeezed his sore ass beneath his skirt. George felt the hardness in Dream's jeans as he pressed against him, it was even bigger than before.
They both paused - breathless. Droplets of blood welled from George's scratches on Dream's neck, a satisfying sight. Dream's chest was heaving, heat radiating off his skin as he slowly lowered George back to his feet, but allowed no distance between them. He reached up and wiped at his bleeding lip with the back of his hand, looking at the red smear with a small smile.
"You made me bleed," Dream said.
"And you didn't make me bleed."
His eyebrows shot up. "Is that a problem?"
George shrugged, trying to seem unimpressed despite being completely out of breath and light-headed with desire. "I expected more. Hell, when you found me in here, I thought you'd make me cry."
Dream laughed - a dangerous sound - and shook his head, "Is that what you want, Gogy?"
Yes. Instead George said. "I want to slap you."
Dream leaned down, his voice a whisper. "Oh do you? Why? You like seeing me in pain, hm? Go on." He turned his cheek slightly. "Slap me. I dare you. See what happens."
He didn't need to tell that twice.
The sound of George's palm striking Dream's face was so loud that George wouldn't have been surprised if they heard it outside, even over the music. George put his strength into it, all his horny frustration, all his confusion over how turned on he was by Dream - but Dream barely even flinched.
Instead, he said softly, "Now I have to make you cry, George."
