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matskreider-blog · 6 years

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6 and/or 7, Kari and Bish?

6. “Do you trust me?”/ 7. “You belong to me.” 2-in-1, normal verse.

“Do you trust me?” That had been the first question that Kari had asked Ben when they’d first begun. Before any actual negotiation, before figuring out how the relationship would impact their team dynamic, before anything, there was the simple question: “Do you trust me?”

Ben, after having just been told to be honest, to the point of bluntness, answered truthfully. “To a point. The rest…we’ll see.”

Then Kari had smiled. “Let’s get started then.”

Before Ben had gotten out the door on his way to Kari’s for their first scene, he’d gotten a text, asking that same question. Do you trust me? the screen had read, and Ben had laughed before he’d texted back, sure.

Before the scene that dropped Ben down into subspace for the first time, Kari had asked. Before the scene where Ben had been edged for the better part of three hours before being allowed to come, a warm up by Kari’s standards, the Finn had asked. Before he’d tied Ben up for the first time, he had asked.

Each time, Ben’s answer shifted closer and closer to a solid affirmative. But he never said yes until one memorable scene.

It was after the scene where Ben had had to safeword for the first time. He was supposed to stay in one position, kneeling on the floor, while Kari took care of some things around the house. It wasn’t inherently sexual, just designed to see how well Ben could take directions, and a test in patience. But his old hip injury was acting up, and what had been a low grade stiffness was now a seizing settled deep in his hip socket and slowly expanding up his side.

Kari had immediately come over, knelt beside him and asked him what was wrong. Ben explained through gritted teeth that it was his hip, and shifted onto his side to try to alleviate the pain.

He’d expected Kari to be hands off about it, but he’d helped him massage it out, gotten him ice and pain meds. Then he’d helped him up onto the couch, and asked if there was anything else he could do for him.

“Yeah, just take my hip out. Ugh I thought the surgery was supposed to stop this shit,” he had mumbled, looking up at Kari. “I…um, I’m sorry.”

“About what?” Kari asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“About interrupting, yanno. The scene.” Ben had blushed and looked away, so he couldn’t see Kari’s face, but he remembers jumping to conclusions from the resulting silence. What he now understands would have been complete shock.

“Ben. Your health comes before any arbitrary rules set in a scene. That rule will never change, ever. The safeword is there for a reason. I’m just glad that you told me, even if it seems like you waited until the last minute.” Kari had knelt down again, reached up to slide a hand into Ben’s hair. The gentle touch had quieted Ben’s guilt a little bit, and he found himself nodding, even if he didn’t know in agreement to what.

That had been months ago. Now, after schedules had aligned and Ben’s hip was no longer an issue, he found himself sitting in that same spot, his legs arranged in a way to take pressure off of his hip. He’s naked and bound, red rope braided to keep his arms behind his back, and looped around his torso. He’s helpless but to try to follow his Dom’s instructions as he tries not to come.

The toy inside him pressed right against his prostate though, and it made staying still very difficult. “S-sir…please…”

Kari doesn’t look up from his book, merely hums in acknowledgement. The remote to the toy inside of Ben was on the table beside him. All Ben wanted was for him to take the remote into his hands and either turn the vibrator off, or to jack it up so he could finally come.

“Please, I’ve b-behaved, please let me come…” he pleads, his hips jerking a little. There’s a sizeable puddle of precome on the floor in front of him, and it’s taking everything he has to listen to his Dom’s instructions.

Kari simply asks, “Do you trust me?”

The answer is simple, and immediate. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s a good boy. Now be quiet, I’m trying to read.” Ben recognizes an order when he’s given one, but he can’t help the small sob that escapes. He sees Kari look over at him briefly, but he quiets himself enough to pass inspection.

Kari turns the vibrator up to a higher level, and Ben strains against the rope holding his arms back. He keeps him there, right on the edge, for a little while longer, before the doorbell rings. Ben stiffens, but Kari doesn’t seem bothered as he gets up to answer it. When he comes back, there’s the rustle of plastic bags, but not much else.

When Kari returns, he has a small plastic container of fruit chunks in his hand, and taps Ben’s jaw once. Obediently, he looks up at his Dom and opens his mouth, and he gets a half of a strawberry for his efforts. When he hesitates a moment too long in thanking his Dom, Kari tugs at one of the lines by his shoulder, tightening the design all around him. It’s not enough to hurt, yet, but it delivers the message.

“Thank you, Sir,” Ben whimpers, and the rope relaxes. Kari pets his hair and then gives him some watermelon. This time, Ben replies immediately, which gets him a soft smile. He’s fed small fruits until the container is almost empty, and then, and only then, does Kari close the container and reach for the remote.

Ben watches with rapt attention as Kari rubs his thumb over the buttons before hitting the off button. He sobs in relief, his shoulders slumping as much as possible in his harness, before he’s being pulled back upright by his hair. The pain goes straight to his dick, and just like that he’s floating, his mind filled with a pleasant fog. All he’s aware of is his Dom’s hand in his hair, and the teasing bite placed against his neck.

“You belong to me,” Sir whispers, and Ben shivers. “You know that, don’t you? That you’re mine. And I can do whatever I want to with you, can’t I?” Ben moans complacently, nodding his head against the grip in his hair. “Ah-ah, use your words.”

“Yessir,” Ben slurs, his eyes slipping closed.

“Good boy,” Sir purrs in his ear. Then the toy buried inside him turns back on, on the highest setting. The sudden shift has Ben gasping for air, and trying desperately to somehow get away from the feeling. The ropes around his body and Kari’s hand in his hair keep him stuck, however, and tears start to fall.

“S-sir, t-too much, please…” he sobs.

“See, that’s the thing. You’re mine, little one.” A slick hand wraps around Ben’s dick, slowly stroking, and the goalie is openly crying now. “So I’m going to do what I want. You can be good for me, can’t you?”

Ben still hasn’t opened his eyes, still floating, but tethered by the vibrations in his ass, the hand on his dick, the hand in his hair, and the voice in his ear. He feels enveloped, and protected, and he just wants to be good.

He can be good.

“Y-yes……yes Sir…” he breathes, barely keeping his hips from jerking forward into Sir’s hand.

“So good for me. You really are. You’ve earned this.” The wait between that sentence and the next feels like an eternity to Ben, and simultaneously no seconds at all.

“Come for me.”

Ben falls apart, still crying as he comes, his body jerking near violently as he gasps in pleasure. He’s vaguely aware of Sir saying something, can vaguely feel the words “Thank you, Sir” trying to escape his mouth, only to get all tangled up somehow. Sir shushes him, and he settles, leaning against the strong body next to him.

He trusts him.

#kay answers #anon #kay writes #otp: swallowing my pride #this was....so long....#and got kinkier than i had anticipated #apparently this has turned into me writing mini fics #ah well my dudes #hope you enjoy!!

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disso-queen · 7 years

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My rants get out of hand. Short update: starting month three of fitness, tentatively got my first choice for bar testing center, and starting to get things in order....

My weigh-in/measurements for the beginning of this month were a mixed bag. I’ve lost an inch here and there (notice it in the face and neck, in the fingers, starting to see it around the knees), but mostly any place that isn’t my gut or chest which is frustrating, and I gained weight. I can’t be too disappointed though, I am down to 25.5% body fat which I consider more important. My suspicion is that since I haven’t been monitoring the diet as much, I am building muscle faster than I am burning the fat. Which, again, isn’t a bad thing. Starting I was definitely at my most unfit of my life, so it makes sense this progression would look a bit different from the past.

That being said, I’ve finally started tracking my food intake. I was eating more to maintain before so it’s time to eat to lose and make sure I am consistently running a deficit while getting the appropriate amount of fats/carbs/proteins/cals. Cut a lot of bad fats, dairy, sweets, and alcohol. Since working out is now basically habit mon/tue/thu/fri the energy is going in to meal prep and tracking.

I told my trainer as such and mentioned that I bought like, precooked frozen chicken breast and she was like, oh processed stuff... Like, this kind of bugged me. Like, yes, bish, processed. You want to know how long it takes me to prep and cook the normal crap? How much clean-up that is? How much effort? Like, I get my ass up at 4:45AM to work out, go directly to work, to get home at 6p.m. to a dog who wants to play. I play with the pup for an hour to wear him out, make dinner quickly at 7, then proceed to study until 9-10 when I need to shower/pack the next days gym bag and breakfast/lunch/snack to hopefully knock out by 11 or 12, to wake up at 4:45 and start it all over. I have zero time, energy, or patience to cook some fresh ass shit. I roast all of my veggies on the weekend so all I need to do is microwave them. And the amount of chicken I would need to cook over the weekend??? Crazy amounts, because my dad will 100% eat a good chunk of it, and his servings are 2-3x more than mine and he does not help with the meal prep/cleanup. Are plain chicken breasts better than the frozen precooked stuff? Sure. But my frozen precooked ones take literally 3 minutes in a microwave on a plate I need to use to eat anyway, and won’t go bad because it’s fckn frozen. It’s still better than the takeout that I would resort to if I had to cook raw chicken every two seconds. And I don’t want to hear the bullshit of “if it’s important, you’ll prioritize/make time for it.” Everything is a priority right now. Work is a priority. Bar study is a priority. I’m making health a priority by getting my ass up so early to workout (and investing the money for a trainer). My budget is pinched and I’m spread thin enough, thanks. My healthy meals need to be quick, easy, with minimal mess/prep.

However, I think I am getting close to starting up Wednesday mornings as well, but I want to get the diet down before I throw in another early morning sweat session. It used to be that I needed Wednesdays to sleep in but this morning I jolted awake at 5:30 ready to go... I think a current, short-term, realistic goal is to break 130 before Thanksgiving. (about 6 pounds in 2 months) In years past I would have set a more ambitious goal but with how this has gone so far, who knows how the body will respond...

As a side note, I’m starting to queue up posts for bar prep. I think I’m just going to need to unplug from everything. I remember back in undergrad I had my roommate change all of my passwords at one point, and I think I might ask her to do that again. I want this blog to maintain activity in my absence, but I really need to just get myself out of here since I’ll only have 6 weeks to study full time. I might cut myself off of social media sooner than that but we’ll see, need to start building a queue first

#cara speaks #this is mostly like life rants and health/fitness rants #shouting into the void again

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