Bath, Bed, and Beyond -- Bed, Part I: The Need
Siktici Copyright 2004
Through the foggy night, Bernie trembled from anticipation, in the distance a motorcycle revved. When he reached its origin, he saw the glow of a cigar, whose owner sat on a Harley.
"Get on" Gary said without looking back. Bernie wrapped his arms around Gary, straddled the bike's vibrating engine, and watched the fog fly by.
"Stay here," Gary said and flipped a light on his sparsely furnished condo. Its hardwood floors held practically nothing and harsh light washed starkly white walls. Bernie stared at a fairly new computer sitting on an old secretary's desk. A desk lamp just as old sat near the monitor, which was framed with pictures of men dressed (or barely so) in leather. A library stretched the length of the room and stacks of papers sat here and there.
Gary saw Bernie looking at the stacks and explained, "Occupational hazard. I'm a magazine editor." He's not here to learn about me, Gary thought; he's here to learn about himself. That's why they all come. They come, disappoint, and leave. Will he break the cycle? God help me, I hope so."Get undressed and leave your clothes folded at the door," Gary said and moved down a hall. "When you're done," he threw over his shoulder, "come back here."
Bernie's cock grew hard at the orders. He quickly undressed and hurriedly folded his clothes. He heard Gary in the room at the hall's end, and entering...
SMACK!
"Did I tell you to enter?" Gary asked.
"N-No, " Bernie said.
SMACK!
"No, Sir."
"Better, boy." Gary said. "I see you're going to need some training in proper slave etiquette.
Bernie said nothing and put his hands behind his back. It seemed the natural thing to do. I hadn't settled on being a slave, he thought. Yet, another voice quickly intruded. You'll be whatever he wants, it said.
"Face the wall and don't move until I tell you," Gary said and waited.
"Yes, Sir," Bernie said, also a natural response. His mind was slowly sliding around his new role.
"Get in here," Gary said, standing in the middle of a large room, dimly lit in contrast to the others, that had at its center a table with a leather surface. An examination, thought Bernie. Stirrups at the table's end pointed at angles, eight straps hung from its edges, and it had as its foundation a wooden cabinet with drawers.
"On your knees, boy," Gary ordered and pushed Bernie to the floor. "Show daddy just how much you want to serve him."
As soon as Bernie lowered to the floor, he was again faced with the horn that had stabbed into the darkness of the cubicle. The only differences were the three metal rings at its base, a full view of its ominous purple flesh, and the largest Prince Albert Bernie ever saw looping through its piss slit.
"Suck my cock good, boy, `cause if you don't. You'll have to pay," Gary said in the same tone as he had in the baths.
As soon as Bernie lowered over the horn, Gary thrust forward until Bernie's lips kissed the first of the metal rings. But wasn't satisfied. He clamped Bernie's head down over the horn and gave it a few vigorous shakes for maximum depth. The quickness of the effort sent Bernie into momentary gagging, and Gary withdrew only enough to allow Bernie to catch his breath. As soon as Bernie gasped for air, Gary thrust again. The constant thrust and withdrawal so excited Bernie that he grabbed Gary's ass and...
SMACK! "I didn't give you permission to touch me. Touch me again, I send your ass home. Got me, boy?" Gary asked in a hiss.
Bernie looked up to eyes shielded by the police cap's visor. Gary's stern expression only stoked flames that already starting to lick their way up Bernie's body. After another gasp for air, Bernie sat on his haunches and waited with mouth opened. The stinging on the side of his face subsided but its affects increased his desire to serve.
Gary, enjoying the uncertainty in Bernie's eyes, slowly moved his horn across Bernie's waiting mouth, staying just inches from entering. Precome smeared Bernie's face, causing Gary to mutter, "Beautiful." He brushed the horn through Bernie's hair and covered Bernie's face with his leather-clad crotch. Bernie drowsed in the mixture of Gary's musk and leather, fought the urge to run his hand down Gary's legs, and felt the tap of his own cock on the hardwood.
Gary clamped his legs around Bernie's head and watched a large vein fork the space between Bernie's brows. Seeing Bernie's strain and sweat of effort excited Gary to the point of wanting to prolong the moment, but his reason and training caused him to release Bernie, who dropped to the floor panting and dripping more precome. He moved over Bernie's panting body to check for distress, but only saw the lust he knew would be there. Yeah, this is a good one. He wants to be used, wants to serve. Will he be the one? There's more to do to find out.
He dragged Bernie by one arm across the smooth hardwood to a table hosting an assortment of BDSM fair. Above the table, a few shelves held cats, restraints, spreader bars, cuffs, tit clamps, cock and ball torturers, suspension gear, and tethers. But in the corner, a machine with a long metal arm, pistoned by a large flywheel, didn't appear as the usual fair. Secured to an oak foundation, it looked like a horizontal paint mixer. Attached to the mixer's arm, however, was a large dildo.
Gary saw Bernie looking at the machine and explained, "It's called The Invader®." But that was the only explanation he gave of the machine. "Stand up," he said and walked over to two chains hanging from the rafters of the room. He waited to see if Bernie would follow.
Good, very good. "Come, sit here," Gary said pointing to a place on the floor beside his booted feet. "Clean my boots, boy," he said.
Although "Yes Sir" came from Bernie's lips, he faced a decision as he kneeled slowly. He hadn't licked anyone's boots--not even his own--and he didn't find boot worship at all pleasurable. But he wanted to please, desperately wanted to please. He looked up at Gary, then lowered his head, tongue tentatively tasting the air...
"Stop," Gary said. He only wanted to see if Bernie would do it. He saw a limit in Bernie's eyes, and as much as he wanted to cross it, he respected it. Bernie sat, head down, and occasionally looked to Gary then to the machine in the corner.
"Don't even think about that, " Gary said. "You haven't earned the privilege."