Chapter 163: Bound and Used as the Toll -4

The Tollkeeper used his thumb to wipe off the wetness at the tip of Kael’s cock, his thumb lingered in a circular motion for a while then withdrew.

Kael’s hips twitched forward into the empty air before he could stop them.

The chain from his collar to the post snapped taut with a short metallic sound.

He couldn’t follow the touch. He couldn’t close the distance. All he could do was kneel there, thighs shaking, cock dark and aching, every nerve wound tight from the denial.

The Tollkeeper watched that small, helpless movement without comment.

Then he crouched in front of Kael so their faces were level. Up close, his eyes looked darker. The scar along his jaw caught the last of the red light.

"They paid to use you," he said quietly. "And you took it like a good boy. You stayed hard. You didn’t come." A pause. His gaze dropped to Kael’s cock, then climbed slowly back to his face.

?"That’s more than most manage the first time."

Kael’s throat worked against the collar. His voice came out scraped raw.

"Are you letting me go?"

The corner of the Tollkeeper’s mouth moved - almost a smile, but not quite.

"No. You are going to be bound and chained until your toll is completed by strangers who would want to use you"

He stood and walked a slow circle around the post.

Kael tracked him as far as the short chain allowed, the leather cuff at his throat pulling whenever he turned his head too far.

Every step the man took seemed to tighten something low in Kael’s gut. The welts across his back and ass still throbbed in time with his pulse.

The cool evening air moved over his oversensitive skin and made him shiver.

The Tollkeeper stopped behind him. For a long moment there was only the sound of the wind and the quiet shift of boots in the dirt.

Then gloved hands settled on Kael’s shoulders, heavy and warm. They didn’t strike. They simply rested there, feeling the heat still rising from the flogged skin.

"You’re thinking about how long you can hold out," the Tollkeeper said, voice low near his ear.

"How much pride you have left. Whether I’ll get bored and cut you loose." His hands slid down Kael’s arms, following the line of muscle to the locked cuffs at his wrists.

"I won’t. Not yet."

One hand left him. Kael heard the soft sound of the flogger being picked up again. His stomach clenched.

Anticipation crawled across his skin in a slow wave of goosebumps. He waited for the first stroke.

It didn’t come.

Instead the braided falls trailed lightly over the existing welts - up the curve of his ass, along the side of one thigh, then higher, ghosting across the small of his back.

Not striking. Just reminding. Every pass of the leather made Kael’s cock jump against his stomach.

Precome had smeared across his skin from earlier; the cool air made the wetness feel even more obvious.

The Tollkeeper spoke again, almost thoughtful.

"You’re still leaking."

Kael squeezed his eyes shut. Shame burned hot under the residual sting of the flogger. His pulse hammered so hard he could feel it in his tongue.

The falls lifted away. A single stroke landed across the meatiest part of his ass - sharper than the earlier ones, more precise.

Kael jerked hard against the chains. A raw sound tore out of his throat.

Before the heat had even settled, the Tollkeeper’s hand was there instead, palm covering the fresh mark, pressing into it until the sting flared brighter.

"Breathe," the man said. "You’re going to need the air."

His hand slid lower. Fingers traced the cleft of Kael’s ass, slow and deliberate, then pressed between his cheeks just enough to feel the heat there.

Not entering. Just resting. Claiming the space. Kael’s whole body went rigid. His cock throbbed so hard it hurt.

The Tollkeeper held him like that for several long seconds - one hand still pressing the fresh welt, the other steady between his legs from behind - while Kael’s breathing turned uneven and loud in the quiet.

Then both hands withdrew.

He moved around to the front again, then crouched once more. He looked at Kael’s face, at the wetness gathered at the corners of his eyes from strain, at the way his mouth stayed slightly open. Then he looked lower.

Without warning he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue up the underside of Kael’s cock, from base to head, slow and wet and thorough.

Kael’s cry was sharp and helpless. His hips snapped forward as far as the collar chain allowed.

The Tollkeeper didn’t pull back. He did it again - same slow, deliberate lick - then closed his mouth around the head and sucked once, firm and brief, before releasing him with a soft, wet sound.

Kael was shaking. Full-body tremors. His cock stood flushed and glistening, a thin string of spit and precome connecting it to the Tollkeeper’s lower lip for a second before it broke.

The Tollkeeper wiped his mouth with the back of his glove and met Kael’s eyes.

"Still not allowed," he said, almost gentle. "You come when I decide you’ve earned it. Or when I decide I want to watch you break."

He stood. For a moment he simply looked down at the picture Kael made - kneeling, chained, marked, dripping, every muscle tight with denied need.

Satisfaction moved through his expression like a slow shadow.

Then he turned toward the shack.

"I’m going inside. You’re staying exactly where you are. The temperature’s going to drop. The wind’s going to pick up. Every welt is going to sting harder. And you’re going to stay hard because I told you to."

He paused at the doorway and glanced back over his shoulder.

"If you soften, I’ll know. And I’ll come back out with the flogger and start over."

The door closed behind him with a dull metallic sound.

Kael was left alone in the dirt, chained short to the post, skin cooling too fast, cock aching and wet, the taste of the Tollkeeper’s mouth still a ghost on the air.

The wind moved across the deadlands and found every mark on his body. Night was coming.

He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.

It didn’t work.