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Next Time
Damn, it happened again. This is so...it's got to stop! I watched Marky leave, jogging down the street to the bus stop. I would have given him a ride, but he said I'd done enough. That is NOT supposed to happen! It's like--I don't know what it's like!
I go to the gym every other day, just like the workout book says, and I do each and every exercise. I have to admit, it makes me look good: six feet two inches tall, stark naked. Well-defined muscles, including my legs. (It is so disappointing when a guy who looks like a real hunk has toothpick legs!) My cock is large enough to be impressive; I have a firm, square jaw and steel-cold blue eyes. I keep my hair short, so it works better with my well-maintained three-day stubble, but if I let it grow out, it would be shiny black. Close-set ears, thick, well-muscled neck and shoulders: I fill out my leathers like a goddamn model. That's not bragging: I am the first to admit that some of my good looks are the luck of genetics, but I have the smarts and the self-discipline to make the best of what I have.
I love what happens when I walk into the bar: it's like this little hush falls: eyes follow me, and I can sense their lust. The bartender always smiles, and always pulls out my favorite single-malt scotch before I even order. I rule.
I met Marky at the bar last night. He's the sort who always gets carded, and probably will until he's in his forties: schoolboy face, rosy cheeks, gold-blonde hair that looks just a little too long. Not a twink, mind you--not quite. He's in a well-worn t-shirt and jeans, strategically torn, and it looks damn good on him. Bubble-butt, enough muscle on his arms to make him look, well, not tough, exactly, but capable. That's the word: capable. In a word, he's perfect. I can see him spread-eagled in my attic, body flushed from a brisk slapping session, half-scared, half-eager for more. His eyes follow me as I go to my toy cupboard and select a few tit toys. (His tight t-shirt suggests tits just large enough for clover clamps.)
Before I got too carried away in my fantasies, of course, I had to get him to my attic playroom. Our eyes met, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He apparently liked what he saw: Me. I nodded toward the bar, inviting him over. The twitch turned into a smile, he said something quick to the guy he'd been talking to, and walked toward me. "Hi," he said. Even though his voice was soft, it penetrated the noise and music around us. "My name's Marky."
"Duke," I replied.
The bartender appeared, magically. "Anything to drink, fellas? Another scotch?"
I nodded.
"Beer, please. Angel's, draft," Marky said.
"ID?" Marky pulled out his wallet and handed over his driver's license. The bartender gave it a quick glance, just in case there was an undercover cop in the place.
"I've seen you in here before," Marky said, with a promising bit of hesitation in his manner.
"This is where the best men are," I replied.
Marky looked around. "Looks like it." He studied my leathers. "I bet you look good on a bike."
"You like leather?"
"Love it. I've got a jacket, and boots." He lifted his leg to show me his engineer boots. "I want to buy chaps, once I've got some money. You got a bike?"
"It's in the shop, sad to say. Getting kind of old. You?"
"Always wanted one, but...to be honest, it's a little scary, you know?"
I smiled. Cute kid! "It's like anything else. Once you've learned the ropes ... and things."
Our drinks appeared, and I raised a toast. "To happy times."
"To happy times," Marky replied. "Especially tonight."
"Special occasion?"
"Not really. I just need a break, you know? Learning a new job ain't easy."
"True enough. What are you doing?" I smiled.
"Inventory control--basically a glorified store detective. I'm not on the floor yet, though: there's training, and familiarizing myself with the store and all that."
"So, you'll be arresting people?" I gave the handcuffs hanging from my left epaulet a quick glance.
"Not if I can help it. I don't really like confrontation. To be honest, I'm not sure why they hired me."
"Well," I smiled. "You don't look like a store detective. There's that."
Marky laughed and took a long drink. I love the way a guy's Adam's apple looks when he does that. He set the bottle down and studied me for a few seconds. "Anyway, leather looks good on you."
"And you're not half bad, from what I can see." I pressed my glass against a large hole in his t-shirt.
"Seems to attract hot guys. It'll have to do, 'til I get those chaps."
"You look like a tough high school senior, jock or something--the type the nerdy kids run from."
Marky put a scowl on his face and drove his right fist into his left hand. His arms flexed. "Like a bully, kind of?"
"Yeah. Maybe the kind of bully who needs to learn a lesson or two about respect."
"Yes, Sir!" Marky's face lit up like a kid seeing Santa Claus. I like that look. "I guess I need some lessons." His voice took on a sultry tone. "What's your pleasure? Besides scotch, I mean."
"I like to show youngsters how to behave. How to...be respectful of their betters."
"You think you could maybe teach me how to do that?" He tilted his head, like a curious puppy.
"Yes. Yes, boy, I think I could. You able to spend the night? I like to...take my time." I grabbed a handful of t-shirt and pulled him toward me.
"I got nothing to do 'til lunch tomorrow."
Excellent. "Did you drive?"
Marky looked just slightly embarrassed. "Bus. Makes things easier."
I nodded. "Sounds good. Finish your drink and let's get cracking."
"Yes, Sir!" Marky flashed a beautiful smile. He drained his beer, nodded at those cuffs hanging on my jacket and held out his wrists. I cuffed him and he dropped his gaze to the floor. I marched him out of the bar and down the street to my car. Once he was inside, I pulled a short chain out from under the passenger's seat and locked it to his cuffs.
"Uh-oh."
"Yep. You're mine now, boy."
"Yes, Sir." He was still smiling. I got into the driver's seat and we took off. "What are you into, boy?"
"Guard and prisoner, maybe. Being naked in front of a big guy, like you. Bondage, so I can't escape."
He held his wrists up as far as he could--about to his navel. "Like this, Sir."
I imagined myself giving him a cavity search, then locking him in the cage in the attic. It wasn't as big as a jail cell, but I was pretty sure he'd like it. "Safe word is Umbrella, okay?"
"Umbrella. Thank you, Sir. I'll try not to use it."
"Any absolute no-no's?"
He rattled off a few, mostly consistent with mine. But they left a lot of room. I was going to have a terrific night--and so was Marky. I might even consider a second round with him--if tonight went the way I wanted it to.
A few minutes later, I pulled into my driveway, unlocked my prisoner, and steered him into the house with my hand on his neck. "Bathroom's over there, boy. Clean yourself good, or I'll do it. Come out naked, so I can do a cavity search."
"Yes, Sir." He held out his wrists.
"I ain't taking them off, boy. Not yet."
His eyes widened. "Yes, Sir." He hurried to the bathroom.
I wasn't expecting him to get completely naked, of course. That would give me a reason for his first little punishment. I hurried to my bedroom and grabbed the box of examination gloves and some lube. I went back to the living room and settled into my leather recliner.
Marky came out, and I'll give him credit. He was naked, and his shredded t-shirt was hanging between his cuffs.
I pulled on the exam gloves, so he'd know what was coming.
He watched, wide-eyed. "You ain't gonna stick a finger up my butt, are you, Sir?"
"Of course, punk! You never been arrested before?"
"No, Oficer. This is my first time, Officer. I didn't do anything, Officer, honest!" He was playing the role to the hilt.
"Get your ass over here, boy! Closer! Stand between my legs!" I finished shredding the shirt and tossed the scraps aside. "Now turn around and bend over, boy!"
"Yes, Officer," he said, and turned.
I greased his asshole and my finger, and poked it in, nice and deep.
"Oh, Officer! Please don't hurt me, Sir! It..." He moaned, and wiggled his butt. I added a second finger. "Please, Officer..." he whimpered delightfully, and kept it up until I had all four fingers in. "Oh, Sir! It's so big! I never had anything that big up my ass, before, Officer."
"We'll have to see what we can do about that," I snarled. I pulled my hand away abruptly, and he almost fell into my lap. "Turn around!"
"Yes, Officer!"
I peeled the gloves off. "Kneel, boy!" He obeyed while I pulled on a second pair. "Open your mouth, punk!" He started to reply, but my fingers were in his mouth before he got the words out. I forced him to open wide, then put my fingers as far into his mouth as I could. He appeared to have his gag reflex more or less under control. I pulled my hand back and peeled off the gloves, then stood in front of him. "You suck cock?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Open my fly, punk!"
"Yes, Officer."
"Pull out my cock, real gentle." I put my hand on his head. "Real gentle, or I'll tear your goddamn hair out!"
"Yes, Officer."
I ordered him to kiss my cock and lick my balls. As soon as I was hard, I drove my shaft deep into his mouth. Then I pushed him back. "Let's get you upstairs, punk!" I grabbed his cuffs and steered him to the stairs. "Move it, punk!" I followed, enjoying the view, patting his butt now and again to hurry him along. Once the attic door was closed behind us, I gave him a good push into the middle of the room. "Welcome to jail, punk!"
His eyes were wide. "Yes, Officer! Thank you, Officer."
I have a pretty good setup. In addition to the cage, I've got a pillory, a sling, a whole bunch of restraints hung along the end wall, a modified single bed with more restraints attached, and a cupboard with all sorts of smaller toys. I pushed him into the cage, locked it, and reached in to unlock the cuffs.
"Are you going to make me helpless, Sir?"
"Fucking right," I growled. "Wait right there. In fact, put your hands through the bars at the top, punk." He obeyed, and I re-cuffed his wrists. "Don't go anywhere, punk!" I sneered, then hurried downstairs to strip and change: boots, chaps, leather vest. When I reappeared in the attic, I could tell by the look on his face that I was right out of his fantasies. "Like what you see, punk?"
He nodded vigorously. "Yes, Sir!"
I walked to the wall of restraints and picked up a leather collar with a locking buckle. I held it in front of me as I walked toward him. "Got something for you, punk."
He stared at it, as if he was hypnotized. "Thank you, Sir," he gasped.
I smiled, reached through the bars. To my surprise, it didn't quite fit his muscular neck. "Damn. Be right back." I hurried to the wall and grabbed a longer collar, then returned to the cage and buckled it in place. This one didn't lock, but you can't have everything, I guess. I undid the cuffs and opened the cage. "On your knees, punk! Crawl out of there!"
"Yes, Sir."
"My boots need licking, boy. Get on 'em!"
"Yes, Sir." He crawled to my feet and went to work. For a few minutes, I just enjoyed the view: his muscular neck was connected to a nice, muscular back.
"Enough! Hold still!" One at a time, I put my boots on his back to inspect his work. "Missed a spot, punk!" I announced.
"I'm sorry, Sir. May I please--"
"You had your chance, boy. Follow me!" I led him to a chair, and sat. "Over my knees, punk. You've earned a spanking!"
"Please, Sir! I--"
"Now!" I growled. He quickly got into position, with his cock between my legs. He was heavier than he looked. "Why am I spanking you, punk?"
"Um ... for not doing a good job licking your boots, Sir."
I struck the first blow. His position wasn't quite right, but I decided to go with it. Second blow. "Why aren't you thanking me, punk?" I hit him with blow three.
"Three, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
"Going to have to start all over, punk!"
"Yes, Sir." I struck. "One, Sir. Thank you, Sir!" and on I went, up to "Ten, Sir! Thank you, Sir!"
My hand hurt like hell, but his ass was nice and pink. I wondered if he could handle my spiked glove. Maybe later. "Now, get back to work on those boots! And do a good job, this time!"
"Yes, Sir!"
I looked around, considering what to do next. Tit torture, I decided. I let him work my boots for a bit longer, then got him on his feet, guided him to a pair of chains hanging near the chimney, locked his hands over his head, and put a spreader bar between his ankles. I went to the cupboard to pick a few toys, then turned back to him.
He was gorgeous, standing there. The light was hitting him perfectly against the dark brick. His eyes were riveted on mine, and his cock was nicely swollen. I walked over to him and grabbed his nipples, rolled them between my fingers while his eyes closed. "Thank you, Sir," he said, dreamily. I pulled his nipples forward, up, down, while he did his best to follow with his chest. Thanks to the restraints, he couldn't do much, of course. I dropped my hands and immediately pressed my lips against his chest. I drew the fleshy knobs into my mouth, one at a time, and nibbled them, enjoying his moans.
"You aren't going to cum, are you?" I said, pulling my mouth away.
"May I, Sir?"
"No! You may not cum without permission, or you'll be punished! Got it?"
"Yes, Sir. I got it, Sir."
I attached a pair of clover clamps to each tit, then dropped to my knees so I could tug on their free ends while I sucked his cock. Cocksucking has always been one of my strengths. If I wanted to, I bet I could pull a load of juice out of that David statue, the Michelangelo one. I sucked away, teasing his tits by pulling the chains that dangled from the clips.
"Oh, please Sir, please! I'm so close, Sir!"
"Exactly what I want, punk!" I gave his cock one last lick and stood, looking into his eyes.
"You're really good, Sir. You like sucking cock, don't you, Sir?"
"I like sucking yours," I smiled. "You've got a pretty cock."
"Thank you, Sir."
I took the clover clamp off of his left tit, and replaced it with the clamp that hung from his right tit. Then, I turned the clamp on his right tit and gave the connecting chain a good tug. He gasped: perfect. I walked over to my toy chest and grabbed a collection of fishing weights. I walked back to him slowly, enjoying the view of his spread-eagled body. One by one, I added the weights to the chain between his tits, until he was breathing fast. "Good boy," I whispered, and stroked his cock.
His nostrils flared. "Please, Sir. I'm really close."
"Too bad," I chuckled. "You're going to be there for a while!" I stepped back to examine him while I tried to think of what to do. He looked stunning. Adonis. But what next? I moved behind him, embraced him, let my cock explore his crack.
"Are you going to fuck me, Sir?"
"Perhaps," I whispered into his ear, then nibbled it. He responded by wiggling his butt. I dropped to my knees, spread his cheeks, and teased him with my tongue.
"Yeah," he hissed. "Do it, man. Lick my ass."
I guess I should have corrected him, but my mouth was otherwise occupied. I dragged my tongue up his spine, turned his head enough to tease his earlobes, licked my way along his right shoulder, then down to his armpit.
He was whimpering with pleasure! I tongued my way up to his mouth, and we kissed.
"Let me down," he whispered into my ear. "I want to make love to you."
My mouth worked its way down his left side, felt him quiver as he tried to keep from laughing, moved behind him and sucked and nibbled the flesh behind his knees while I undid the spreader bar. When it was loose, I worked my way back up his right side, worked the fishing weights a bit, then kissed him again. I paused briefly to undo his wrists, then embraced him.
He gasped as the clover clamps pressed between us, twisting his tits. He wrapped his arms around me. "I love your body," he murmured. "I want to see your body." He peeled my vest off and began to lick my chest, then sucked at my nipples and brushed against them with his teeth. Part of me noticed that he was undoing the clover clamps; as he released them, his teeth tightened for an instant.
He dropped to his knees and began licking my balls, pressing against my crotch, pushing me back until we reached the toy cupboard. His mouth and hands seemed to be everywhere. He turned me around and began licking my ass, spreading my cheeks to get at my hole. He was good: my fucking legs were trembling. He worked his tongue up my spine, slid his chest against my back, wrapped his arms around me and pressed us tight. "Close your eyes," he whispered.
I did, and heard my toys rattle. He slid the collar around my neck and locked it, all the while stroking and nibbling at my shoulders, turning my body and teasing my tits. He took my balls in his hand and led me to the pillory. "Open it," he hissed, and I did. He moved behind me, rubbing his crotch against my buns as he guided my head and hands into place, closed the pillory and locked it. "My turn, I guess," he whispered, and walked away.
I should have said something right then, of course, but it was too late. I was trapped, and my cock, at least, was thrilled. I felt him remove my chaps and shackle my ankles, felt his tongue trail its way up to my butt.
"You don't have to say a word. Just enjoy it." For a moment, I was puzzled, and then the first blow struck my ass: sharp, but not too painful. His hands moved quickly, slapping my cheeks, gradually warming them until his touch began to sting. He kept at it until I gasped, "Whoa--it hurts."
"Be polite," he ordered.
"Please stop, it--"
"Why don't you call me Master. I like that." And all the time, his hands kept punishing my ass.
Damn it! This was getting out of hand! I squirmed. He kept slapping. "You're hurting, dammit!" I said. He stopped. He walked away and came back holding my slapper. "Hey! No fair!"
"Escaped prisoner! Enjoy it!" he said, again.
It didn't take long. "Please, Master. It hurts. Please stop, Master."
"Are you going to be a good slave?"
"Yes, Master!" And the slapping stopped.
He moved around to the front of the pillory and raised my chin. "When I was in high school, there was this kid--nerdy. I was having a hell of a time with algebra, and he offered to help me. Tutored me after school two, three times a week. One day, I was working a problem and farting around, and he said, 'If you don't get to work, I'm going to have to spank you.' I just turned around and stared, and...he slapped me. He fucking slapped me and I turned right back and got to work. From then on, he was the boss. He made me work naked. He made me kiss his sneakers. And then he made me suck his cock. I was pretty awkward, at first, but...I couldn't believe what I was feeling. My cock was so hard it hurt. From then on, we had this kind of Master/slave thing, both of us stumbling through one game after another.
"Summer came, and he asked me to help him get stronger. So it was my turn to be Master. I worked him. I worked him hard. By graduation, it showed. I think you need to spend some time on the bottom, slave. Don't you?"
I didn't know how to respond. This was all wrong, but it felt so--He kissed me deeply, then whispered in my ear. I could feel his breath. "You want this, slave. You know it, and I know it. You're a big, butch, bottom, inside. I want to let it out. Can I do that, slave?"
"But I--"
"I asked you a question, slave." He struck my ass, once on each side, with his fists. The blows knocked me off balance, first to my left, then my right, and the pillory tugged against my neck.
"You can't stop me, can you, slave?"
"No," I whispered.
His hands gripped my shoulders, massaging my back. "You work out, don't you, slave?"
"Yes."
His fingers froze, digging deeply into my back. "Who am I, Duke?"
"Master."
"Nope. Just Marky. Marky's good enough." He walked slowly around the pillory, lifted my chin and licked tears from my cheeks. It was all downhill from there, of course. He clamped my tits and added weights, so every move made them swing. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a dildo and began working it into my ass.
"I'm giving you a choice, Duke. Would you like a gag, or a butt plug?"
It took me a moment to understand what he had in mind. When I first discovered man-to-man sex, the idea of sucking cocks repelled me. Once I'd been more or less forced to try it, though, I fell in love with the idea. I've got nothing against a good butt-fuck, of course, but there's no vibrator or dildo that can match a cock in the mouth! "Plug me, Marky," I replied.
Once I was plugged, Marky released me from the pillory. He immediately shackled my wrists behind my back, ordered me to my knees, and fucked my face--hard. My chin and neck were covered with drool by the time he pulled out and deposited a load on my face. He shifted his grip to the collar, led me across the room, and locked me into the cage. I watched him put on his boots. I watched him pick up my chaps and hold them against his legs. They were too big, so he put them aside. He picked up the vest and put it on. It, too, was big. It made him look even more like a kid.
He grabbed a leash from the wall of toys, walked over to the cage, spat onto my face and smeared it around, then slid his fingers into my mouth. "Topping is hard," he said softly. "You have to know what you want--and how to get it. You can relax now, Duke. Relax and let me do the hard part, okay?"
I didn't answer, but dropped my gaze to the floor.
He opened the cage, clipped the leash to my collar, and guided me out. He uncuffed my hands, then cuffed them in front of me, so I could crawl. "Show me how you lick boots, Duke!" he commanded, and I went to work. I pressed my cum-and-spit-covered face against the boots, then licked them clean. I worked my tongue into the spaces between the soles and the uppers, laid my body flat and rolled over so Master could put his boot on my face while I licked the underside.
I reached once--only once--for my cock. Marky slapped my cuffed hands away. "You'll be punished for that, Duke!" he thundered, and his voice made me shudder. He led me to the chimney, ordered me to my feet and used one of the shackles to hold my cuffed hands high. I watched him walk to the toy cupboard, watched him walk slowly back, sliding my flogger across his right hand.
"Turn around and face the bricks, Duke."
He drew the flogger over my shoulder and stroked my whole body with it. "Are you ready, Duke?"
"I don't--"
"Would you like to call me master, Duke?"
I didn't have to think about it. "Yes, Master."
"Have you been flogged before, Duke?"
"Once or twice, Master."
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
"Yes, Master."
"Why am I flogging you, Duke?"
"I touched my prick, Master."
"Ask me to flog you, Duke."
"Please flog me for touching my prick, Master." I was panting by now, terrified and at the same time wishing He would start my punishment. He draped the flogger over my shoulder again, and I jumped, startled. I heard Him walk away. I heard Him come back.
"Open your mouth, Duke."
I obeyed, and He gagged me.
I've no idea how many strokes He gave me, but I was barely standing when He stopped, and my whole body stung. I tried to say "Umbrella," but the safe word was mangled by the gag: I was completely at Master's mercy, helpless in my own playroom. Every toy I owned was at Master's disposal.
Master let me down. I dropped to my hands and knees before He gave me the order. "Good Duke," He said. "You know your place. Come along." He led me to the bedframe and spread-eagled me on it, with a cushion under my hips to raise my ass into position. He pulled out the butt plug and immediately replaced it with His cock.
I said before that I preferred sucking cock, but I had to admit that His cock felt better in my ass than any other I could remember. He put his whole body into it, every muscle rigid as it struck me and clung to me. His cock plunged in deeply and rapidly, and all too soon I felt His second load filling me.
He lay on my back for a moment, and then put the plug back, released my limbs and turned me over. I could have leapt away. Instead, I spread my arms and legs so Master could restrain me again, on my back. He gathered a variety of tit clamps and put them on my stomach. "Don't let them fall, Duke," He ordered. He removed the gag.
"Yes, Master," I replied.
Then, to my surprise, Master settled His ass onto my face. "Lick it!" He ordered, and went to work on my tits: clover clamps, adjustables, finally the alligator clips. And with each pair, orders to lick His ass, lick His hole, get my slave tongue where it belonged. I was in a whirlwind of pain and humiliation. My cock was in agony. Every once in a while, Master surprised me by stroking it, or teasing the tip. Every time He reached forward to do it, my tits exploded in agony. I was broken. I was His, ready to agree to anything, to submit to everything.
He got off of me, and I closed my eyes against the light. I heard noises, and felt His hands on my cock and balls. "Keep your eyes closed," Master commanded softly, and a few seconds later cum poured, exploded, sprayed out of me. He kept pumping me until I was drained, frantic for Him to stop, yanking helplessly against the restraints, trying to beg for mercy but unable to control my mouth.
He stopped. He undid the restraints, slowly, gently. I opened my eyes as He sat me up on the edge of the bed. "Look, Duke," he said softly. He was holding a small glassful of cum. He raised it to His lips and took a sip, then handed it to me, and I did the same.
He favored me with his boyish smile. "You are one hell of a bottom," he said. At least there was admiration in his voice.