Looking down into Bobby’s panting face, Angelo felt his chest swell with something like pride. Pride in conquest, he told himself. It felt fucking good to have taken this smart mouthed upstart and disciplined his mouth to the point he didn’t have anything to say. He was just lying on the bed, his hips thrust obviously and lewdly against the coverlet.

“Turn over.”

Bobby hesitated. Angelo didn’t give him a choice. He grabbed Bobby’s ear and moved it, taking control of his head in a new way. He let out a grunt as his body followed his head, but he was soon over on his back, his no doubt sore ass against the bed as his rampant erection tented those all too cheap pants.

“You liked that.”

It wasn’t a question.

Angelo stayed on his knees, reared up over Bobby’s prone form. Had he broken him already? He doubted it.

Bobby lay there looking defeated everywhere but his eyes. They held two things: lust, and defiance in about equal measure.

Reaching over, Angelo ran the flat of his palm over the ridge of Bobby’s cock. He felt the boy’s dick respond, twitching against his hand. Wanting him.

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you boy.”

“Let me go,” Bobby said, his voice hoarse.

“Oh absolutely not.”

“You want to abuse me? Fuck me? Use me? You’re going to pay for all of it,” Bobby swore angrily. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

“Adorable, but there’s only one way to get out of here. And you know what it is.”

He had to submit.

It wasn’t going to happen. Angelo had fucked his mouth, but they both knew that didn’t mean anything. It was sex. Dirty, illicit sex, but still just sex. Bobby was aroused. He could probably cum in what was left of his pants if Angelo wanted him to A few swift strokes and he’d be sticky and shamed. It was tempting, but if he had release now, it wouldn’t teach him anything.

“Time for bed, I think,” he said with a cruel smile. “You’ve got a long hard day of being broken tomorrow, boy.”

* * *

Angelo woke after one of the best night’s sleep he’d had in a very long time. Across the room, Bobby was asleep on the floor, his pretty wrists shackled securely. Angelo felt his lust rise. He was going to miss Bobby once he’d finished breaking him. Even in his sleep, Bobby remained defiant, a slight frown on his youthful face.

Angelo thought he might have heard Bobby crying in the night, but he wasn’t sure. Sorrowful sniffles were the perfect accompaniment to a restful slumber as far as he was concerned.

He stretched and got out of bed. Time to begin.

“Wake up,” he said, nudging Bobby in the ribs.

Bobby jolted awake, his eyes widening. Interesting. He didn’t sleep easy this boy. Good. He tried to get up, but the shackles pulled him back down to the floor. Bobby let out a curse and growled, making Angelo laugh. He hadn’t had this much fun with a captive in a long time.

“If I let you out of the chains, are you going to amuse me by attempting to escape, or can you go to the toilet on your own?”

“No promises.”

Angelo smirked. He didn’t relish the idea of Bobby soiling his floor, so he supposed he’d have to give him some small amount of freedom. The ensuite was secured. Admittedly, not to stop people from getting out, but to keep them from getting in. As it happened, the features worked more or less both ways.

He took the key from the bedside cabinet and knelt down to undo Bobby’s shackles. He’d removed the ankle binding the night before, just in case it caused the boy to cramp and wake him in the night.

“You try to hit me again, and I swear you will spend the rest of the day regretting it,” he growled softly as he pushed the key into the cuffs. They fell away, leaving a mark where they had been. Losing Bobby completely, Angelo moved back, totally expecting another struggle. Bobby was a physically capable young man. If he wanted a fight, it would be a real fight.

Bobby staggered to his feet in his ripped pants, his ass no longer red, but still bearing the marks left by Angelo’s cane. He had a slightly dazed and sleepy look in his eye, as if he wasn’t sure it was really happening - or as if he had hoped that when he woke up, it would have all been a dream.

“Get naked. Get clean,” Angelo instructed. “You have ten minutes, then I’ll feed you.”

It was all about structure. Structure in everything. Routine could grind down the rebellious and the strong. Angelo intended to keep Bobby for as long as it took to break him in properly, to bend his will until he didn’t know what it was anymore.

Bobby staggered toward the bathroom, which Angelo indicated by opening the door. That glazed, dazed look was probably part dehydration and hunger too. He would attend to those needs shortly. First, he wanted his boy scrubbed and nude and wet. Just the thought made him lick his lips in anticipation, a hunger which had nothing to do with the need for food rising as Bobby passed by.