I had, caught up in the loneliness, forgotten something rather essential. It was brought quite firmly to my attention, pardon the pun, when I woke the next morning.

I had been dreaming of Sarah, rehashing the first night I spent in her bed, and I drifted from the memory of her hands on my body to the reality of a hand around my cock. For a minute, dazed, I thought it was mine, that I'd been playing with myself in my sleep. As I continued to climb up into consciousness I realized that it was not, and that I had been arching my back, thrusting my hips for longer than I'd been awake, not trying to push into the hand... rather, I was pushing back as Sarah had only recently begun training me to do, pressing against what in the dream had been one of her toys.

I shuddered, freezing instantly, not even the continued pleasure of skilled fingers on my flesh managing to keep me hard. He said he wasn't... he couldn't...

There was a drowsy, murmured grumble from behind me and I risked a glance over my shoulder. Kieran was clearly still sound asleep, lost in a dream of his own, fumbling now with his hand as he tried to continue with what I was guessing he thought was masturbation. I bit my lip, not wanting to displease someone who had been so thoughtful and kind, but unwilling to play the part of a slut for someone who didn't own me and was decidedly the wrong gender for my tastes.

Just as I was about to try turning over, hoping the motion would wake him, I felt my head being pulled back. His other arm, the one that had not been curled around my hip, had been under the pillows and was now atop them, his fingers grasping my hair, drawing me forcefully back against him. I couldn't help the tiny gasp of pleasure - I was still just drowsy enough to be unable to quite separate myself from the idea that it was Sarah holding me so tightly - and at the noise he burrowed his face into the crook of my neck, muttering a name that was not mine.

I flinched; it was one I'd only heard a few times before and one that I'd come to associate with jealousy, with the feeling that I could never measure up. Sarah's last slaveboy had worn that name. Another near-instinctive reaction kicked in and before I had time to consciously think about it, I was arching back against him again, squirming, writhing, my treacherous body trying to prove that I was better than the faceless slave I'd been struggling to replace.

He moaned, half-purring the name again, his free hand grasping my hip now rather than my cock, pushing me snug against him. I could feel myself getting hard again and I silently cursed myself for it, hating the reaction that I knew quite well had been trained into me and hating myself for being such a stupid boy, getting into this situation in the first place. I already knew that if I tried to stop now, I'd feel I'd somehow failed, that I hadn't measured up to who I was so constantly compared to... that I wasn't good enough... and after last night, I couldn't bear to feel like that again.

I shoved my fingers in my mouth, stifling the whimper that was trying to escape while I slicked them up, tongue running over them with an urgency that embarrassed me. When they were soaked with spit, I worked my hand carefully down between my legs, struggling to give myself what lubrication I could. Sarah had taken me dry a few times, when I'd been fussing and struggling too much to let her lube her toy and when she was too eager to make me scream to care about my comfort, and I had no desire to repeat that particular pain.

My hand was withdrawn just in time, Kieran's firm grasp repositioning me abruptly even as my fingers slipped free, the unmistakable pressure of a rock-hard cock spreading me open. This time I couldn't keep myself quiet, whimpering openly, suddenly terrified of what was about to happen. No matter how I tried justifying it to myself, it was still something I knew I didn't want, something not even Sarah had gotten me to agree to. Previous decisions overturned, I started to struggle in earnest, twisting away.

That seemed to have been the wrong choice. With a final hissed exclamation, that hated name again, he drove himself almost full-length into me with a single violent thrust. I felt my tender skin tear slightly, liquid welling in my eyes, clutching desperately at the pillow as he shifted to turn me onto my stomach. He moved as well, pinning me down on the bed now, his hands fumbling for something at my throat, fingers trying to wrap around it. Instead of what he'd apparently been expecting to encounter, they met sturdy leather... ran over it, his body suddenly motionless... and then I could feel the shift in his posture as he started to fully wake, looking down at me, hands still at my throat, cock deep in my ass. I buried my face in the pillow, unwilling to look at him, afraid of what I'd see. Now that he knew it was me, would he be disgusted? Disappointed? Abruptly my mind did another 180 and it was all I could do to keep from crying openly now. He wasn't satisfied, he was going to push me away, throw me out, I wasn't good enough...

...and that was enough to get me to move, my body again arching, hips lifting up off the sheets, trying to show him that I would do whatever pleased him. When that brought no reaction I turned my head, eyes tightly closed, forcing out the words that I both wanted to say and wanted to keep from saying.

"Please... please don't stop..."

I felt him tremble, felt his hips shift, his desire obvious. It was all the encouragement I needed to speak again, the words tumbling out now, body still in constant motion.

"Please, use me, I need to be used... let me serve you, please, your slave begs to be used... please, Master."

That was enough, it seemed. He rocked back, then forward, pulling out just enough to be able to drive himself into me with even more force than that first agonizing thrust. Another followed, and another, and by now I was panting, reduced to near-incoherant moaning, a 'please' managing to escape every now and then, my body so aroused that I was certain if he stopped now I would die of desire. Some distant portion of my mind recognized this too as something that wouldn't have happened a year ago; it didn't matter. All that mattered was hearing him gasp with pleasure, feeling him growing somehow even harder, fucking me with a strength and determination that even Sarah had only occasionally shown. There was no doubt in my mind that right now, he wanted ME... no one else, nothing else, and he confirmed that as he suddenly froze, tensing... then with what felt like an explosion of heat he came, screaming my old name, no other word on his lips as he collapsed on top of me, trembling with the force of his release.