Read Don't... for Free Online

mouth, smoke wafting into my eyes, making them sting. Ash hit my toes, and I shouted a few expletives as I kicked it off, then stubbed the cigarette out.
    “Only when the game allows it, Jack. Every ounce of come in that fine body of yours, it spills only when the game allows it.”
    The voice shouldn’t have shaken me, but it did, and I spun around looking for the source. “Enjoy watching me jack off, you fuck?” The thought pissed me off, but even that was lost to the blush on my cheeks. Yeah, could I blush. I grabbed the sheet off the floor and wrapped it hastily around my waist. “You really don’t want to piss me off, mate,” I said coldly, although my own question stung me painfully in the ass; what the fuck could I do? I wasn’t self-conscious over my body, but I couldn’t fight thin air, I couldn’t fight what I couldn’t see.
    “Don’t...”
    I froze.
    “...look in your bottom drawer, Jack.”
    I looked to my left and my bedside unit stole all of my attention. It was like having a huge kick-ass spider in the room. Nothing else existed, just you, it, the possibility it was going to move at any point, grab your sofa, and claim your gaff as its own with these big
fuck you
signs attached to all eight legs.
    I wasn’t scared of spiders. I sure as hell wasn’t scared of my bottom drawer. But there, scratching. That feeling of spiders crawling over my skin, of needing to itch.
    Don’t...
    I pulled open the drawer, giving a deep sigh and brief close of eyes as I felt the weight of my drawer in my hand. It took me a moment to register that a small grey box, roughly about the size of a slim watchcase, glared up at me. A yellow sticky note was tagged to it.
    Don’t...
    I groaned.
    ...open me.
    Don’t-don’t-don’t-don’t oh....
One hand fisting my sheet, the weight of the drawer felt heavier and heavier in the other.
Don’t....
    A tug at the case, I pulled it free and threw it on the bed (spiders, real big fucking spiders). Glaring at it for all of two seconds (I knew because I fisted them into my sheet, lengthening each one as long as I could, one second... one and a half, one and three-quarters, two...), then the inevitable: don’t. I flicked the clasp and opened it up.
    Inside was the cruellest-looking torture device I’d ever seen, and I’d seen a few. Picking up the slim black case, I saw a penis-shaped cage, just criss-crosses of silver that would leave parts of the cock visible when worn, all attached via discreet hinges to this silver ring that had a small padlock and key, no doubt to lock everything in place and stop the cock falling out.
    A fucking cock cage. It looked painful; painful with a huge side order of debasing. The ring looked too small to get over my balls, let alone my cock through and into the cage.
    Again—why the fuck did I stand there considering it?
    “Don’t...” His soft voice. I swore he was over my shoulder whispering that in my ear, because I shivered, his voice so fucking calm.
    “Don’t what?” I snapped.
    “...wear it for me, Jack.”
    I let out a breath, hating how it itched like hell waiting, then that release of pressure.
    “Careful, Jack. You’re getting hard.”
    I’d let the sheet fall to my feet and my cheeks burned. Breathing, just light, dusted the room; I knew it was his, but mine matched it until I couldn’t define who was breathing for whom.
    “It will hurt, Jack.” His voice was a little lower, almost seductive, driving me fucking nuts. “Don’t... control it.”
    “I don’t know how,” I snarled, the hopelessness real lousy in my voice.
    “Control gained through rhythmic breathing, Jack. You don’t think I could come up with something far worse for that fine body? You don’t think I know you? That all it would take would be a message in the right inbox to bring you to your knees, bring your business down if you don’t... control it.”
    Business? What the fuck? Picking up the cage, unlocking the padlock and separating it in to two