A Strong Hand

clenched teeth.
    "Well, that's the deal. I might tell you to bend over or I might tell you to wash the dishes," Damian smirked.
    Nick dropped his hands and turned to pick up his clothing, while Damian ogled his round buttocks. "What if this thing causes major significant damage?" Nick groused as he dressed.
    He straightened up and squeaked in alarm as Damian swung his feet off the desk and lunged at him. The man was unbelievably fast and Nick didn't have time to react before Damian's forearm pinned him against the wall.
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    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    "I would never do anything to harm you permanently, Nicholas," Damian said, his eyes intense and commanding. "I didn't even lock it. If it causes you pain, you may phone me and I may, may, allow you to take it off. If you can't reach me and you're in dire straits, you take it off yourself and explain it to me later. You have a brain; use it. What I expect from you, however, is that you will control yourself. I'm trying to make that order easier for you. You will not come until I allow it. Understood?"
    "Y—yes, sir," Nick squeaked. He could barely breathe with Damian's arm across his chest and yet the sensation of being pinned, not being able to free himself, was unbearably erotic.
    He could feel his cock pushing at the cage, but the constriction kept him from getting hard.
    "Fine." Damian dipped his head to take Nick's mouth for the first time and thrilled to feel the boy submit eagerly to him before he released him. Nick's eyes were dazed and his lips swollen and wet, parted as he tried to catch his breath.
    "Go home and do your homework. Attend your classes and pay attention. Those are my orders. Go!" Damian stepped back, watching the boy's hands search blindly for the wall to steady himself.
    "Yes, sir," Nick muttered and ran for it.
    Damian heard the outer door close quietly and sat at his desk for a quiet laugh. Only one week and Nick's manners had improved immeasurably already.

    * * * *
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    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    That evening was torture for Nick. He kept starting to get hard whenever he thought of kneeling naked in front of Damian while the other man inspected him. The sensation of firm hands stroking his thighs lingered but each time he had an erotic thought, the discomfort to his dick had the effect of refocusing his mind.
    Finally, he gave up thinking about Damian at all and applied himself to his homework. He was surprised at how quickly his paper was written. He proofread it, but he'd made remarkably few errors. He printed it out and put it in a report holder.
    The moment he was finished, thoughts of Damian's hands on his cock came surging back. "Ow, fuck, ow," he complained out loud.
    He decided to go to bed early, hoping his usual dreams weren't going to make the night a misery. In fact, he did have to get up several times to piss, but that seemed to relieve the pressure a bit and he was able to get back to sleep.
    Why do I want to do this again? he wondered, but the thrill of not knowing what Damian would do next was too alluring to resist.
    Once at school, he found it easier to concentrate in his lectures, but trips to the restroom made him nervous.
    Obviously he couldn't use a urinal out in the open with that device strapped to his dick, so he had to use a stall.
    The cage made him conscious of his penis all the time, the way it felt when his trousers brushed over it while walking frustrated him. He couldn't remember speaking to anyone at 89

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    school; his thoughts were firmly fixed on the symbol of his submission to Damian and his own cock.
    By the time he arrived home, Nick was so tired, he didn't even eat; he simply went to bed.

    * * * *
    Friday morning, Nick was waiting for Damian outside the locked door, fuming and pacing.
    "Take this fucking thing off me!" he demanded.
    "Good morning to you too, Nick," Damian said mildly. He unlocked the door without haste and went to his office, Nick dogging his every footstep.
    "Did you—?"
    "I didn't touch it or myself. Take it off right now!" Nick said angrily.
    Damian sat down and motioned Nick closer. "We're going to have to have a talk about topping from the bottom. I don't allow that, pet."
    "Yes, sir," Nick gritted, without knowing what Damian was talking about. He sighed with relief as Damian unbuckled him and rubbed at his limp organ.
    Damian inspected him; a few reddened areas, but no damage. "If it bothered you that much, why didn't you just take it