In Arrears by Morgan Hawke

“You’re putting a cock ring on me?”
    Fox patted his thigh. “It is to keep you hard during your appointments.”
    Roth stiffened. “Are you saying that I’m not allowed to cum?”
    Fox snorted. “You may cum at your patron’s discretion.”
    Roth ground his teeth. “Bastard...”
    Fox lifted Roth into a sitting position. “Up on your knees and spread your arms. I need to dress you for your first appointment.”
    Roth got up on his knees and spread his arms as requested. He didn’t bother resisting. Fox was more than capable of dressing him with or without his approval.
    Fox wrapped Roth in robes that felt as sheer as those he’d worn before. He also tied the cloth band around his throat, depriving him of even the whisper of a voice.
    Roth’s cock swelled to throbbing tightness inside its ring.
    Fox carried Roth somewhere, and set him down on a futon mattress. There was a jingle of metal, then chill steel closed around his right ankle.
    Roth turned his head away and scowled. Fox was chaining him to the floor again.
    Fox bustled around him, tugging at his robes. He spread them around Roth’s knees and stepped back. A soft rustle let Roth know that Fox was seated behind him in the back left-hand corner of the room.
    Roth lifted his chin to scent the air. Was the patron already there? He didn’t smell anything. He couldn’t tell.
    The scrape of wood against wood, then a clack announced the opening of a sliding door.
    Roth lifted his head toward the sound and sniffed deeply. He smelled water, soap, a touch of masculine musk and a lot of expensive whisky. He smiled slightly. The patron was drunk.
    Fabric rustled and heavy footsteps approached then stopped. “Tie his hands.” The patron’s voice was male and gruff. “On his back, above his head to the floor.”
    Roth stiffened. Do...what?
    Fox rustled behind him. “As you wish.”
    Roth couldn’t protest; he didn’t have a voice. He couldn’t leave; his foot was chained to the floor. He couldn’t stop Fox from taking him by the wrists and binding them together before him with a thick silky cord; his fingers wouldn’t grip the cord to tug it free. Nor could he stop Fox from pushing him onto his back and pulling his arms up over his head any more than he could stop him from knotting that cord to a ring that was apparently bolted into the floor.
    The patron knelt at his side and ran his hot sweaty palms all over Roth’s chest and belly. “I’ve never seen muscles like this. He looks as though he’s made of wire.”
    Fox spoke from the far right corner of the room. “Such is caused by years of near constant combat.”
    The patron snorted. “I’ve seen boxers and wrestlers bulkier than this.”
    Fox snorted also. “Professional fighters would stand no chance against one such as he.”
    Roth’s mouth twisted. Got that right. He’d taken on fully armored men that would make a professional fighter wet his skivvies.
    The patron slid a hand down between Roth’s thighs to brush a finger along Roth’s rigid and bound cock. “He’s wearing a cock ring?”
    Fox’s voice softened. “You may release him, at your discretion.”
    “No, no, I like it.” The patron slid his hand under Roth’s knee and pushed his leg up. A thick, dry finger circled his anus, then pushed for entry.
    The ache was sharp and biting. Roth bit down on his lip and pushed out to stop the pain.
    The digit slid in smoothly, helped by the thick oil that had been used to clean him. The patron sighed. “He’s already prepped, I see.” He shoved his finger deeper and wriggled his finger, brushing lightly against that hot spot inside him. “God, he’s tight.”
    Roth stiffened, his mind going briefly white with pleasure and frustration.
    “He has been taken only the once.”
    The patron pulled his finger free and huffed out a chuckle. “So he’s practically a virgin.” He palmed Roth’s balls.
    “Very much so.”
    Roth clenched his jaw and turned his face away, away from the