Pinned: Chapter Three

For paid subscribers only. His game of cat and mouse with Jud escalating, Quinn takes matters into his own hands, setting off the epic conclusion.

All night, I was haunted by dreams of Jud.

His body. His dick. The way he’d wrestled me, both literally and figuratively, entirely within his control.

It was like he knew me better than I knew myself—my desires, the things that I couldn’t admit to, at least not openly.

He could surmise just how to get a reaction out of me, how to tighten his grip just so to watch me squirm.

And he’d done the thing that was most intoxicating of all.

He’d left me wanting more.

Did he ever come? I imagined him going home and jerking off in the sanctity of his bedroom, or maybe the shower. Or perhaps he held his load all week, one of those freaks who thought that coming was equivalent to weakness. Some athletes thought semen retention was the secret to their success, that coming was akin to expending their life force.

I could see him as one of those.

I, on the other hand, was not.

No, I woke up spread-eagled on my bed, cock pressed hard against the mattress, already leaking.

I was the guy who busted a nut any chance I could, and this morning I was hornier than ever. I’d been thrust headlong into this sexual odyssey with Jud in record time, and now all my fantasizing about guys, about my teammates, had finally become reality.

With Jud’s permission, it felt at once totally wrong, totally fucked, and totally…okay. Allowed. Permitted.

That tension, along with his withholding, made it all the hotter.

I rolled over, inclined to bust again before I hopped in the shower, and then I thought better of it. No, if Jud was gonna save his load, I could too.

I would wait. For him.

Practice that afternoon came and went, Jud suddenly different. Distant.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You do something to piss him off?” asked Brian Krieter, the Greek chorus of Jud’s and my dynamic.

I played dumb, shrugging. “Beats me.”

It was easy to brush off. Everyone knew Jud was a wild card.

But deep down, I couldn’t help but read into it. Had I pissed him off? Gotten too close? Or was it possible he felt as awkward as I had?

Maybe it wasn’t so easy for him, too.

That’s when I decided I was going to try something different. I’d given in to his whims at every turn thus far. Played the good little boy, the sub. But that was about to change.

What would it be like if I pushed back? How would he respond?

And so I hatched a plan, each element of it slowly coming together in my mind’s eye.

It seems we would find out.

—

I arrived at our session that evening to find Jud already there, ready as always, a live wire in the midst of a round of burpees.

I set my bag down on the ground.

“Hey Tracey,” he said, nodding up at me as he finished. It was the first time he’d acknowledged me all day.

Was that a softness in his voice, in the way he looked at me?

I wasn’t sure, but it hardly mattered. I didn’t wait for him to give instructions.

Instead, I stripped off my sweatsuit, tossing the top and bottoms aside to reveal what lay underneath—a new uniform, not a full singlet but instead a separate tank and shorts.

I stepped back, presenting myself, waiting for the inevitable…

“What are you wearing?” Jud started, noticing the change in appearance. “Those aren’t even league grade—”

I knew he’d call it out, but I didn’t even let him finish.

Instead, I climbed down onto the mat, positioning myself on all fours before him, ass to his face. And then, reaching behind, I slid down the shorts, lowering them just so to reveal myself, letting the waistband rest just below my cheeks.

I turned to watch Jud’s face as it turned, drinking in what was laid bare before him: my ass, wide spread, darkened welts across it from all of his spanking. And then…

His mouth dropped when he noticed.

The plug, from last night, was once again inserted inside me.