Where I Belong

Author’s Note: A fetish story I’ve been working on for a while, finally finished tonight. Seto/Joey as usual.
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh and I make no profit from this writing.


Where I Belong
By. Little Miss Reaper

Most people think it’s about power. About humiliation. About demeaning someone until they’re less than human.
They think it’s about objectifying people, keeping them at a distance and taking the interaction out of your actions.
They think it’s just about sex.
They’d be wrong.
No sex is ever just about sex.
There is always an agenda.
They take comfort in the thought that it’s a sickness.
There’s nothing pathological about it, but if there were, I wouldn’t want to be well.
Nothing has ever felt so right as when my lover has be bound and gagged beneath him (nothing but making love).
But now the whip cracks, bringing me out of my thoughts and to full attention. My master grabs me roughly by my chin and forces me to face him. Though my eyes are still covered by the blindfold I can feel his words on my face. “Was my pet not paying attention?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “That crack was a warning. The next time I catch you ignoring me I will make it sting.”
I nod and he corrects this improper response with another crack of his whip, this time so close that I feel the air rush against my skin.
“Yes Master!” I gasp, feeling my chest tighten with apprehension and direct my eyes to where his feet would be were I able to see.
“Good. Now behave. There won’t be any more warnings today.”
“Yes master.” I reply swiftly, obediently, like the good slave I usually am.
This probably strikes you as strange, so let me add to the surreality of it by painting you a picture.
I am precariously balanced on my knees on the edge of the bed. My arms are bound behind me with leather forearm restraints.
Though I cannot see him, my other senses are tuned in to him.
I tense as I sense him move and suddenly he fists a hand in my hair, yanking my head back hard.
“What did I tell you about paying attention?”
My cock strains against the ring around it at the threat and anger in his voice.
I am pulled abruptly forward, nearly toppling off the bed, but my master catches me.
“Clumsy mutt.”
Not thinking, as I seem to be today, I growl and in an instant he is so close that I can feel the heat of his skin on me.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, master.” I quickly try to cover my indiscretion, but we both know what he heard.
I hear him straighten with the soft creak of old leather. Again I am yanked forward by my hair and his strong grip is on my shoulder.
There is heat near my mouth and a familiar musky scent.
“Suck.” He orders.
And then my mouth is full of hard, hot, unyielding flesh that I can’t help moaning around. This is what it’s about. Punishing me with something I love. Being used as just some mouth, a nameless whore.
At first the hand in my hair is moving me, but gradually it loosens and he lets me set the pace.
It’s usually around now that my master becomes affectionate; he ruffles my hair and praises me.
“Such a talented mouth.”
I take him to the hilt and swallow around him. At this he throws his head back with a growl and pushes me back on the bed.
My arms are pinned uncomfortably beneath me but I know they won’t be for long when my newly free mouth is filled by three fingers. I wet them, running my tongue across his coarse skin and sucking hard.
He sits next to me on the bed and slowly runs one of his slick fingertips around my entrance. I squirm towards him, begging for more.
He chuckles deeply. “Eager, are you?”
I just whimper and in a preciously painful motion he runs a fingernail along my perineum. “Yes Master,” I correct.
“Hn.” He grunts, and the silence that follows terrifies me, but not nearly so much as the words that follow. “You’re forgetting your place.” With that he violently thrusts two fingers into me, twisting them to tear a cry from my chest. “I think I need to remind you of where you belong.”
He flips me and my legs are off the bed. He forces my legs straight and makes me support myself with my face still in the comforter. He adds a third finger, almost immediately curls them roughly into my prostate.
“You are mine.” He’s moved behind me now and angles my hips. I feel the head of his cock against me as he fists and hand in my hair and snaps my head back to growl against my neck. “You belong beneath me.”
He thrusts into me so hard that I feel all the breath leave my body in a blissful and anguished howl.
His hand moves from my hair to my throat, clawing his way back and down my body, leaving raised red lines in its wake.
For so long he doesn’t thrust, just grinds deeply against me, marring my body with his hands and teeth. I try to pull away and thrust back, whining for friction but he digs his hands into my hips and keeps me still. Finally he starts with the most minute thrusts, barely rocking within my body. Slowly, achingly slowly he speeds up.
It feels like hours that we go on like this. It’s a violent dance we’ve done so many times before, but we always dread the moment it will end, leaving us wounded and panting.
Still, neither of us can wait, neither of us can stand to try and make it last.
We become frantic, moving our bodies against each other with force and desperation. It’s building and I’m losing myself to it but I remember the rules of our game.
My voice trembles and breaks. “Master?”
He stops his biting of my neck and gives a deep chuckle. “Yes, pet?”
“I’m so-“ He interrupts me with an especially hard, fast thrust. “CLOSE!”
“Oh?” He asks, slowing to a near halt. This is the only time he can control the pace, to torture me.
May hands still bound behind me flex in desperation as I toss my head and whimper with this overpowering need.
I don’t know how he stands it, how he can have so much control, but my thoughts are lost as he pulls out to the perfect depth and rocks his hips, gently rubbing his cockhead against that wonderful spot inside me.
I beg him with my body but he continues until I sob with need.
His voice rubs up and down my body with a gravelly softness. “What is it pet?”
I normally struggle against the words he wants me to say but every bit of sense has long since left my body and not thinking I choke. “Master, fuck me, please!”
He rubs my abdomen, just above my shaft. “Isn’t that what I’m doing pet?” He thrusts softly again for emphasis. I can tell he’s disappointed with how easily I gave in and wants to drag my torment out. But I’m past struggling and cave again quickly. “Please master, let me come!.”
His hand dances around my stomach playfully before deftly unclasping the cock ring and replacing it with his moving hand. He bites my shoulder again and his growl rumbles through my chest as his thrusting redoubles, “Come for me pet.”
My moans come almost constantly now as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
On either side of me I can see a sliver and his hands are clenched white knuckled in the bed sheets.
He is placing frantic kisses on my back and our thrusting becomes erratic. I feel him silently chanting my name into my skin and desperately waits for me.
Finally it hits, that one perfect moment of liquid fire. My back arches and my muscles clench, turning his moans into a growl so low I feel, rather than hear it.
He thrusts into me one last time and I’m sure my screams can be heard miles away but I can’t bring myself to care.
We collapse together, spend. I am exhausted, sore and in need of a shower but for now we lay together and pant.
Eventually, lazily he reaches over and undoes the restraints on my arms, tossing them to the side and pulling me to his chest. “Was it good?” He ventures, that usual self-doubt creeping in.
I make a noise of absolute contentment and cling more tightly to him. “You are a very talented master.”
“And you-“ He nips my ear. “Are a very disobedient pet.
I roll onto my stomach and he rubs the small of my back, soothing the aches already forming from our exertions. He nuzzles my shoulder then grins slyly. “Do you get why I don’t like being called mutt?”
I look away, not wanting to admit how unpleasant it had sounded.
“See!” He exclaims triumphantly.
I just roll my eyes and claw for the blanket until he gets it on top of us.
As we begin to drift off he whispers, his voice slightly raspy from growling all night. “I love you Set.”
“I love you too.”
Some people think it’s about sex.
But like I said, no sex is ever just about sex.


::End Story::
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