Folded in Half
folded in half
by sutreaux
content tags: male/male, bdsm, bondage, dominance/submission, oral, anal, toys, beating, orgasm denial, pushing boundaries
***
He had me tied, wrists to ankles, folded in half on top of his coffee table, with my ass and cock and balls exposed. I didn’t expect a pussyboy to be so good with knots, but he made quick work of me, and I tried to maintain my composure when he stood back to admire his work, and me, his prize.
It was my first time folded in half like that -- I’ve always been a top, masculine, aggressive, butch, whatever you want to call it. But after enough drinks and flirting and borderline manhandling from the beautiful, confident, twinky cocksucker, I caved. Over the course of the night, he had told me all about his sexual exploits, his most alluring talents, his favorite ways to take it, the best ways to fold his legs and contract his abs to pull cum out of the men in his ass. He’d also pushed my buttons, questioning my position, daring me he could flip me -- from a total top, “with that precious, virgin ass,” as he called it, to a greedy bottom, giving my ass away to anyone who would take it.
I couldn’t deny it hard enough, and definitely couldn’t back out when he proposed a bet: let him top me just once, and if I didn’t like it and didn’t crave more of it, he would flip, work his powerful bottom magic on me, offering me a ride like I’d never had before, whenever I wanted it, for a month. He must’ve already been working that magic, because I wanted it--wanted him--so badly I took the deal, agreeing to give it up for him, on the premise that I really am a top, and wouldn’t like bottoming, and could easily win my prize.
He didn’t call the bet that night; he said he wanted me sober for it. So the next day, I cleaned myself up, but didn’t shave my stubble, and maybe put on a little extra cologne, and a shirt that highlights my pecs but isn’t too tight. I didn’t need to worry about the shirt: it was off within a minute of my arrival, along with the rest of my clothes. He let me keep the silver chain I wear around my neck, telling me it looked pretty on me.
He explained that he wanted to tie me up, that he would release me if I asked him to, but that the ropes would help me let go, give myself up to him -- “as if you were really a bottom,” he said. I appreciated his affirmation of my true position, and told him I wasn’t worried about acting like a bottom for a day, consenting to the ropes.
After securing the bindings and checking them for safety, he started at my ass, roughly running his fingertips and palms and nails over the bubbles of my ass cheeks. I could feel his smirk as my ass clenched each time he let his fingertips dip into the crack; I could hear the smile in his voice when he whispered, “Relax, beautiful, I promise you’ll like it.” He continued over my dick and balls, lightly squeezing but mostly just feeling, gauging, I’m not sure for what. I started to harden slightly and he murmured affirmation.
It was when he came around to stand in front of me that I first started to feel nervous. I hadn’t had a cock in my mouth since I was a teenager, and suddenly his was directly in front of my face, and huge: long and thick, the head bobbing towards me. At what must’ve been horror on my face, he gave me a sweet look, and held my cheek in his hand softly.
His words were kind, but not very reassuring: “Don’t worry, beautiful, I’ll help you manage.”
And with that, the intent of his hand on my cheek shifted, as he tightened his grip on my chin, and levered my mouth open with his thumb on my lower lip. His cock wasn’t yet hard, but he used his other hand to rub the head against my upper lip. “Keep your teeth out of the way,” he added, his voice deepening below the higher pitches that I associate with faggy boys like him.
He checked in with his eyes, searching mine briefly before diverting back down to my open lips. “Okay?”
My only response was a determined nod.
He had started to harden, and dipped just the head of his cock inside my mouth and paused, telling me to suck it lightly. I complied, and his grip on my chin softened slightly as I tested the size and feel and taste of him.
He didn’t give me long before feeding me more of his stiffening cock, keeping his thumb just inside my mouth, between the underside of his dick and my teeth. Over the next several minutes he slowly worked it deeper, a little at a time, then pausing, giving me time to adjust, reminding me to breathe, asking me how I liked it even though he knew I couldn’t answer. His praise -- “Yessssss,” “Mmm that’s great, beautiful,” “Damn your mouth feels amazing,” an almost constant stream of affirmation -- made me warmer, and harder. But there were still two-plus inches of his cock on the other side of my lips by the time I felt it nudging the back of my throat.
Having been on the other end of this bargain so many times, I knew what was coming, but that didn’t help. His voice was gruffer, deeper, gravelly as he anticipated my panic: “The next part can be a little intimidating, I know, but it’s so, so beautiful. If it’s helpful, you can think about all the boys you’ve done this to before -- they survived, I’m sure, and are living out their happy cocksucking lives, appreciating the gift you gave them.” Somehow, it did help.
The first gag was the scariest. I tried to inhale just as his thick head pushed past the opening of my throat and kept on, driving in the last two inches with one smooth thrust. The rope dug into my wrists as I flailed, trying to escape his intrusion; my lungs and throat and stomach contracted to try to push him out; I felt the thick, hot spit I’ve enjoyed pooling around my cockhead so many times, but this time it was gathering at the back of my throat, where it had never been before; my eyelashes were wet with tears. After that first gag, it didn’t get easier, but it didn’t get worse, my body having the same extended reaction all at once and over and over, as he held himself deep inside my throat, not yet fucking my face but starting to wiggle slightly, making more room for his dick.
It was the shortest and longest moment of my life -- I couldn’t wait for it to end, but as soon as it was over, and he started pushing his dick in and out, never fully leaving the tightness of my throat, I missed the relative peace of just gagging around his stationary dickhead. His praise for me and my mouth hadn’t stopped, but had gotten louder and nastier; “yes, beautiful, good job, beautiful” became intermingled with “take it, boy” and “you like it, don’t you, cockslut” and a million other things I couldn’t really hear because I was too busy trying to breathe around his girth. He was wrenching his cock into my throat, pulling my hair to angle my head differently, creating different patterns of pressure and texture for his tender dick skin. At the deepest, my nose was crushed against his pubes and his balls swung into my chin.
I have no idea how long it went on like that, but he didn’t come in my mouth, or down my throat. I was cogent enough to notice when his dick pulsed in that way mine does before I come, but rather than finishing with a rapid face-fucking, he slid out slowly, paused for a breath, pushed all the way back in once, quickly, and then pulled all the way out. With my wrists bound to my ankles still, and too overwhelmed and abused to hold myself up with my abs, my face smacked onto the table. I was coughing, sputtering, still crying, and he gently rolled me onto my side so I could breathe more easily.
“Oh fuck, slut. I knew I was going to enjoy that, but who’d have thought you would’ve liked it so much too?” I looked up at him, but he was staring at the table near my hips, at a not insignificant pool of precum -- mine. I didn’t -- and still don’t -- understand how I got so turned on, but there it was.
He was moving behind me, and pulled my hips, and by extension the rest of my body, down towards the end of the table. Fearing his assault on my asshole, my whole body clenched, even though I’d thought it couldn’t tighten anymore after the repeated spasms of my throat, chest, stomach, and back, trying to expel his dick from my throat. He started slowly, alternating lighter and firmer circles around my asshole with the pads of two fingers, sometimes just spreading my butt cheeks and gazing at my asshole, giving my balls occasional strokes and squeezes. He lubed me up, and the slicked teasing actually felt pretty amazing. I realized I was involuntarily moving back against and into his fingers when I’d moved far enough down the table that the pool of my precum was suddenly right next to my face, my lips. With my wrists bound to my ankles, my chest was just far enough off the table to leave the pool of cum untouched, but my cheek was my third point of contact with the table, holding me up, and I had just barely missed a facial.
That salty sticky musky creamy puddle was staring right at me. He must’ve noticed my eyes widen, or maybe it was part of his plan the whole time. “We wouldn’t want to waste that, would we, beautiful? I bet you’ve never tasted cum before, have you? Why don’t you just give it a little lick?”
When I didn’t comply, but didn’t pull my head away either, he scooped some of the cum onto his finger, coating the length of his thumb with it. He swirled his thumb into my mouth at the same time as forcing the index finger of his other hand into my ass, and I moaned and inhaled sharply, sucking his thumb deeper into my mouth. I couldn’t process it in the moment, but I didn’t hate the taste; I’ve always liked my body odor, and this felt like an even more intense and satisfying version of it. He pulled his thumb out of my mouth slightly, but hooked it around my teeth and pulled my face towards the cum puddle, until my lips were covered in cum, my tongue darting out to find his thumb, but finding more of my cum, as he continued to work his first finger around in my ass.
He laughed at me, told me my true nature was coming out, that I looked even more beautiful licking cum off my lips. I couldn’t come up with a witty retort, plus I like being complimented, so I just turned my head away, pushing my lips and nose into the hardness of the table, and focused fully on the feeling of his fingertip finding its way around in my virgin ass.
Before long, I was moaning and wriggling on his index and middle finger, and then his ring finger too, and he told me he knew what I needed, that I was asking for it loud and clear. I was scared, but also hard as a rock; he definitely knew what he was doing with those fingers. He pulled his fingers out, and I heard his breathing slow and deepen as he rubbed more lube into my asshole; I tried to match my breathing, to relax my core, and quiet my nerves. We’d already had the conversation about testing and PrEP; no condom needed, we’d agreed.
I felt the head of his dick starting to bump against my opening, and he gave the shaft of my dick a teasing squeeze and pump with his lubed hand. He kept his breathing steady, and so did I, as he started to push into me. Like with the deep throating minutes before, getting past the head was the hardest part. I nearly screamed through it, but pretty quickly recovered to the point of breathing again. He didn’t stop though, slipping slowly deeper, occasionally pausing as my ass tightened, but just as often pushing harder against my clenched muscles. As if in reward, or maybe for distraction, he started thumbing my dickhead, and it worked. I’d always used the same play to keep the boys under me happy, and because of exactly what was happening to me now -- the pleasure of him stroking my dick and massaging my balls rippled through me, pulling moans from him as my ass clenched and unclenched in appreciation.
I was panting and cursing and grinding my cock into his hand by the time he was fully seated in my ass. He just kept fucking me, varying the pressure and motion on my dick and balls just enough that my dick was dripping cum and all I wanted was a firm, fast beat off. He would give me the delicious speed I needed just long enough for my blood to rush, my mouth to gape open in surprise and delight, and my hips to writhe into his hand. He would fuck me hard and fast then, and my asshole would ache and clench, but after a few too-brief moments, he’d slow down, switch back to slow, long, deep strokes of both his hand and dick.
After two or maybe three times of not quite getting off, I looked back at him with what must’ve been hatred in my eyes. He started the rapid fucking again, but this time didn’t stop after a minute, but kept up his pace and depth. My cheek smashed into the table, over and over, in a puddle of my drool and the remnants of my precum. I could hear myself yelling again, but this time in pleasure, at the top of my lungs, “Yes!” and “Oh god,” and “Fuuuuuuuuuuck fuck fuck meeeeeeee.” He was grunting and panting along with me, the fingers of his left hand digging into the scruff of my neck as he pulled me back onto his dick. It felt so so good, and I ground back into his hips willingly, eagerly.
Just as I started to peak, he clamped his fist around the top of my ballsack, above my unexploded balls, preventing me from releasing what would’ve been the biggest orgasm of my life. With my balls and neck in his hands, he hammered into me the last few times, and I shrieked, over and over, bucking against him, and felt his cum shooting into me, what felt like quarts of it, deep and hot in my battered ass. He released my neck and balls after he stopped coming, but didn’t pull out of me, and with my wrists still bound to my ankles, I couldn’t escape his small thrusts, in and out, side to side, in and out.
I was seething as he recovered -- I had never kept a bottom from coming, and especially would never consider coming first. Tops should always take care of their bottoms, I’d always thought, and felt recommitted to my top position as an act of righteousness, as one of the good guys. It was like he could see right through me, though, because he giggled at the outrage and determination on my face, before adding, “I’m not done with you yet, pet; you’ll get exactly what you deserve, but on my time. Now thank me for the gift of my cum in your ass.”
I wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t even look at him, certainly wouldn’t thank him. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in much of a bargaining position; I was still bound, folded in half, and hard as a rock.
“Eh eh, don’t be rude,” he chided, and gave me a sharp smack on the ass. As his hand made contact, I felt a glob of his cum slip out of my ass; he caught it with his thumb and pushed it back inside my tender hole. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll let you come soon, but you’d better hold onto this for now. Clench for me, beautiful; hold my cum inside you like a good slutty bottom.”
When I wouldn’t clench, still pouting over being so rudely stopped from coming, he pushed three fingers back inside my battered asshole, as if to staunch the flow of his cum still dripping out. As I whimpered, he hushed me, and added, “I’m telling you, you’re going to want this later, babe. Let me see if we can find something to help.” His other hand opened a drawer beneath the tabletop that I hadn’t noticed; I couldn’t see inside, but I could see the five inch, ridged, glittery butt plug that he took out. My asshole was still stretched enough that he slipped one finger out of me, then could use the other two to hold me open while he pushed those five inches all the way inside me, not pulling the last two fingers out until the plug was seated in my ass, and my anal ring was clenching uncontrollably around it.
It wasn’t until then that my situation really started to dawn on me: I had no control over this situation, I’d let my ego get the best of me, and now I was completely at the whim of this sadistic twink-turned-top. And still, my ego was running the show, because I didn’t ask him to stop, didn’t ask him to untie me -- I didn’t want him to. My dick was still hard as a rock. It was my rigid dick that drew his attention next: my insubordination had earned his ire, and he was taking it out on my dick with slaps and scratches and sharp squeezes. Even when he checked in, asked me if I was “green, yellow, or red,” I willfully answered green, knowing I could take the pain and the humiliation, and not considering the consequences of really embracing my position as a bottom.
Pulling a cock ring from the same drawer as before, he slid it down my shaft and pulled my balls through the opening, before fastening it just a little too tightly and flipping the tiny switch that started its vibration. I could’ve come like that for sure -- the vibration against my dick and balls was so delightful, and even the plug in my ass was helping my interrupted orgasm build again -- if he hadn’t started up with the pain again too, sliding my belt out of my jeans on the floor, wrapping the ends around his fist, and beating my ass with my own leather.
I’m not even sure what noises I was making, except they were apparently loud enough that it would’ve bothered the neighbors, because he shoved my boxer briefs in my mouth as a gag. Tears were streaming down my face again, in pain and humiliation and need, as I spread my hips wide, trying to push my hips into the tabletop and get a little more pressure from the vibration against my dick. Every smack of the belt against my back, ass, thighs made my abs clench, and made me even more aware of the five inches of silicone in my ass.
Finally the beating stopped, and my whole body felt on fire, not just but especially the parts that had taken my belt. His hands were suddenly gentle, soft, smoothing the tension out of my shoulders and the fire out of my skin, flicking the vibrator off, unbinding my wrists and ankles, sliding the plug out of my ass tenderly and slowly, replacing my wadded up briefs with his tongue, caressing my tongue and lips. After I’d recovered some, had my bearings again, but still hadn’t come, he helped me to my feet, held my naked body against his, and kissed me as our hard cocks rubbed against each other. Making sure I could stand on my own, he stepped back, and sat down in the middle seat of the couch behind him.
I tried to sit down next to him, but he shook his head, and I knelt between his knees, letting him guide my face into his crotch. I worshipped his beautiful dick and balls, breathing in their musk, rubbing them against my cheeks, taking them into my mouth, with no prompting from him. He stopped me after a while, and pulled my mouth up to his for a harder, deeper, needier kiss. As I moved up his body, my cock rubbed against the edge of the couch, and suddenly I remembered my unmet need.
I took the initiative this time, still kissing him while I brought my knees up on either side of his thighs, and intertwined my fingers with his, trying to move his hands to my cock for more of his magical stroking. He smirked at me, and used our intertwined fingers to pull my hands behind my back; he didn’t tie or bind them there, but I didn’t dare move them. Still intertwined with mine, his fingers moved to my asshole, pressing around it, stroking it, slipping around in his cum that was beginning to drip out of me again. When I started to enjoy it, he stopped, unlinking our fingers and drawing his back to my asscheeks, leaving mine to continue teasing my own asshole.
I hate to admit it, but I kept it up, and damn I enjoyed it. With his hands on my asscheeks and my fingers slipping into my ass, it wasn’t hard for him to push me up to a squat, positioning me just right, and I soon felt his dickhead nudging my fingers out of the way. I hadn’t realized I’d shut my eyes in pleasure, but when I felt him there, they flew open, and his eyes caught mine and held them as his dick slid into me again, using his cum as lube. That’s all it took -- him sliding into me slowly, and of course my pent-up need, and as soon as his cock was fully seated in my ass, I came harder than I ever have in my life.
My fingers dug into his thighs. My back arched and my head fell back and my mouth opened in an extended scream. My cock and balls pulsed over and over as streams of my cum splattered against my stomach, chest, neck. I think he came again too, judging by how much cum flowed out of me later, but I was in no shape to notice anything but the pulsing, shaking, burning pleasure of my orgasm.
That first orgasm set an amazing precedent for our future together. It’s now been almost three years of boundary-pushing, sometimes consensually non-consensual, always earth-shattering sex between us. Sometimes we flip, and I play my old role as top; it’s more common that I fuck other boys that way, usually twinks like him, but none as memorable as that first.
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