SMUT-A-THON (6/7) - Bondage
Unfortunately I lacked the drive to really see this thing to completion. But enjoy 4,000 words of smut anyway? .__.;;
It was safe to say that sometimes the kid got a wild hair up his ass and did things that were out of the ordinary, regardless of Nick's protests, whatever they might be.
Which probably informed his current… situation.
He was seated in one of the chairs from the kitchen table, though he wasn't in the kitchen, he was in the pool room. Technically it was a bedroom, but with just the two of them living in the two-story domicile, they'd converted it to what it was now, a little gaming room, which included his at-home pool table in the center, as well as a couple of pinball machines of Ellis' in the corner and several neon Budweiser signs up on the four walls.
His chair was leaned up against one of the walls, tipped such that it balanced somewhat precariously on its two back legs, while the front ones were lifted into the air. His ankles also happened to be tied to the front legs of that chair, and he was quite unable to yank them loose considering the tensile strength of the duct tape the southerner had used to affix them. It might have been a different matter entirely if he'd had use of his hands, but those too were indisposed, contorted behind the backrest of the chair, wrists lashed together with nylon rope.
It was sort of irritating to the older man that Ellis had been able to over-power him, seat him in the chair and tie him down, but what was done was done now. The young machinist was currently leaned over the side of the pool table, aiming a shot with a cue stick, guiding the front end back and forth on the knuckles of his fore and middle fingers in preparation to hit the cue ball.
And did he mention the kid was also naked?
There was a smack as two balls collided and then bounced about on the bumpers before the intended ball sunk into a pocket. Ellis gave a triumphant whoop, and Nick thought to himself that it was about time, since the kid had been chasing that particular ball around the table for the last three shots. Nick remained in broody, angry silence.
The southerner reached for his beer sitting on the corner of the table, tipping it back to take several more glugs. It wasn't the first he'd consumed either-- there were three empties scattered on the floor that were bugging the shit out of Nick's meticulous nature, hoping to hell they wouldn't leak, or worse, shatter. Ellis wiped his lips with the back of his hand, relinquishing a satisfied "Ahh…" before setting it back down. He found another shot to make and attempted it, proceeding to accidentally shoot the tip over the ball he'd been 'aiming' at.
"You know, it's a lot easier to play when you're not drunk halfway under the table," the gambler couldn't resist making the jab to his lover any longer.
Ellis turned around to look at him. "Aw, yer jus' sore cuz you ain't," he said with a dismissive wave of his wrist.
"No," Nick clarified, teeth slightly grit as he tried to keep his voice level, "I'm 'sore' because you tied me to a fucking chair and are playing with my shit in your goddamn birthday suit."
"Hey now," the mechanic lifted a finger to point at him accusingly, the rest of his hand still gripped around the brown bottle. "First of all, ya never said I couldn't play on yer table, it's the both of ours an' I got jus' as much of a right tuh it as you." Debatable, Nick thought, since it hadn't come out of either of their income specifically. "Second of all, the heck're you complainin' 'bout? I figured ya'd like gettin' tuh watch me play in the buff."
"I'm tied to a chair," Nick underlined again, the hick obviously missing that little factoid.
"Man, whatever," Ellis rolled his eyes and went back to his game, this time folding right in front of him. Nick couldn't help but stare at the globes of his ass that swayed invitingly as the mechanic coordinated his next shot, feeling his temperature rise in the pit of his stomach. The kid wasn't completely wrong, he was enjoying the view, it was just that he couldn't do anything more than enjoy it. He couldn't even give himself a hand job for Christ's sakes. He twisted his wrists within their bindings uselessly, the wooden chair groaning.
Ellis turned around at the noise. Nick immediately stopped moving, not wanting to give it away that he'd been caught trying to get loose again, but from the lopsided grin spreading across his partner's features, he presumed the kid had figured it out anyway. "Guess I am bein' a purdy awful tease though, huh?" the mechanic said, setting the butt of the stick on the floor and leaning onto it. "Bet'chu'd really like tuh lean me out over this here table an' go tuh pound-town." He gave his own rear end a slight smack with his palm.
His tongue flit out to wet his lips quickly. "That's one way of putting it…" Nick said gravelly. He could just imagine grabbing the southerner by the wrists and holding them down upon the green felt while he thrust himself in and out of the youngster. But simply imagining it wasn't enough for the ex-con. He wanted to act on the impulse.
"I kinda like you right where ya are though," Ellis said, beginning to wonder aloud as he drifted his fingers up and down the taper of the stick and scratched the scruff on his chin. "I kinda like bein' the one in charge, callin' the shots. I mean, with you all tied-up an' such, I kin do whatever the hell I like an' ya can't tell me no." He swept his arms out to either side of his body, standing proudly with legs shoulder-length apart, his expression a cockeyed grin that made it look like he thought he ruled the world.
"Ellis…" he growled, not wanting the younger man to get any more funny ideas and take this too far.
"I do think maybe ya need a li'l loosin' up though," the Georgian decided then, racking his stick momentarily to go over to the small liquor cabinet. He hunkered down to open the two doors and began rummaging around, talking to himself under his breath; the sound of bottles tinkling together echoed in his search.
"I don't feel like drinking," Nick made clear.
"An' I dun care," Ellis retorted, standing with a bottle of 80 proof bourbon whiskey and a shot glass. He uncappered the mouth as he walked towards him, taking a short swig himself. The mechanic's face screwed up, a single eye wincing shut and he shuddered and shook his head. "Man a'livin'! Tha's some strong shit! Whew boy!" He carefully aligned the spout and the glass, filling it nearly to the ridge, then set the bottle down.
Nick felt his body tighten, staring at the dark fluid en route to his mouth. "Ellis, I said I don't want to--"
The kid put a hand around his throat in order to tip his head back and force his lips to part. "Down the hatch, darlin'," he gave the warning before pouring it in.
His green eyes widened at the substance suddenly searing down his throat, and he spluttered, almost choking on it when he tried to swallow too soon and there was still more on its way down. He coughed hoarsely when Ellis pulled the empty glass away, the alcohol leaving a painful stinging dryness all the way down his neck.
The redneck stooped to pick the bottle back up and started to pour a second shot. "Ellis…" he wheezed out, still trying to recover from the first one and certainly not ready for another. But the younger man either failed to hear him or failed 'to care' again, repeating the rather rough treatment and leaving his partner coughing all the harder.
There had been a time in his life when he'd made a habit of consuming strong drinks like this without anything to water it down. He'd been more used to it at the time too, able to tolerate the burn in his throat for the ache in his heart and all that sappy-ass poetic shit. He also assumed his alcohol tolerance had been higher back then, and with the rate Ellis was pouring it down him, he was going to be shit-faced in short order.
The third went down. "That's enough-- that's--" he gasped as he rasped, "enough-- shit!" He proceeded to have another hacking fit.
His partner paused, considering his claim for a moment before nodding agreeably and stoppering the top. "Yer prolly right. I dun want'chu passin' out or nothin'."
Nick went slack in his chair, breathing deeply through his nose in attempt to ward off the stinging in his throat. Yeah, or give him alcohol poisoning. Little shit. His eyes watered.
"Guess I oughta do somethin' while I wait fer it tuh kick in, huh?" Ellis then wondered, running his hand through his short locks. He snapped his fingers. "I know what'll get'cha goin'. Sit tight," he said, not even catching the irony of his words as he dashed off.
The cardplayer groaned, not really eager to find out what the kid had in store for him, wishing he could somehow get free. Even if there had been some kind of elaborate plan he could come up with, Ellis returned only moments later, whistling a tune and a tube of lubricant gripped loosely in his palm. The younger man boosted himself up onto the edge of the pool table and spread his legs, causing Nick to stop struggling a moment and lift an eyebrow in interest instead. Ellis grinned and squeezed some of the gel onto a couple fingers. He held them up, turning them about so the light could reflect off the shiny substance showoffishly. "Know where these're goin', don't'cha?" he goaded with a smirk. "They're goin' where ya wish you were goin'." With the words Ellis dropped his hand underneath his testicles and circled the two digits around the pucker of his anus.
Nick's green eyes dilated at the sight. It wasn't the first time the Georgian had fingered himself in front of him, but that didn't make it any less arousing or mesmerizing to spectate. He watched as the hick's entrance began to loosen with the self-stimulation, until he was able to slide the digits up into his own body and begin pumping them. "Ohh yeah, tha' feels good…" Ellis breathed, arching slightly and using his other arm to keep himself propped upright while his other hand was busy. "Real good, yeah…"
Blood had begun to pool in the gambler's groin, getting hard from the sight-show as well as the noises now falling from what should have been his partner's lips. He gave a little growl, the sound coming to him easily considering all the whiskey that had been forced down his throat. "Little fucking tease… if I could get loose…" he began to threaten.
His words seemed to excite the southerner, who increased the speed of his fingers to a significantly faster one, toes curling where they dangled in the air. "Mmyeah… tell me what'chu'd do tuh me, honey… Tell me what'chu'd do…"
"I'd bend you over that table and give you a spanking for starters," Nick spat, annoyed at his lover's persistence in keeping him tied up and making him watch this nonsense when it ought to be him up there. Ellis smiled coquettishly, even as his cheeks began to flush with heat. "And once your ass was pink and smarting, I'd fuck you. And I sure as hell wouldn't be gentle."
"God, tha' sounds hot…" the mechanic gave a moan, nibbling at his lower lip. He curled his free hand around his weeping cock to stroke it in time to his fingering, making little whimpering noises.
"Then after I finished claiming you, I'd put you in this chair, tie you up, see how you like it," Nick hissed, jerking on the reigns behind his back. His seat wobbled on the two legs, and in his growing inebriation, it almost felt like it was about to fall over, so he promptly quit.
"Ohh…" Ellis groaned at that. "Would'ju fuck me again?" he inquired, tugging his dick fervently. "In the chair? While I was tied up?"
"Yeah…" the gambler took the suggestion, finding it to be a pretty good one to exact his punishment, his own head starting to become a little hazy for ideas. "I wouldn't stop until your smug ass was aching and you couldn't take another minute."
"Shiiit…" the mechanic groaned, lowering his back onto the green tabletop. Nick watched as the kid twisted and contorted his fingers within himself, angling for that special spot that if the gambler hadn't been tied up, he was certain he'd be ramming into right now. His eyes involuntarily crossed a bit when Ellis spread his legs wider in attempt to get his digits deeper, but he forced them to focus despite the mild intoxication. "Yeah… oh yeah…!" the kid called out, fisting his cock hurriedly. It was only a few moans later that the young man was shooting his seed into the air in an arc, splattering himself with it. Thank God none of it hit the table.
"Mm… mm ahh…" Ellis made noises of intense relief as he milked himself dry, looking incredibly relaxed on top of his pool table, almost ready to drift off into a pleasant dreamland. Nick gave another little wrench, thinking about how he'd make good on every word of his threat if he could just somehow get loose. It could have been his half-drunken imagination, but he thought he felt the bindings give, if only a little, and that spurred him to tug harder.
The younger man pushed up onto his elbows, giving a complacent sigh and ruffling out his hair before glancing over to his bound partner. "Whoa, whoa, what'chu doin' there, sugar?" he inquired, seeing the way the man's arms were worming and wriggling. He stood and walked over as the ex-con openly cursed, and he bent to check that he was still secure. "Aw, now ain't'chu a slippery one?" he said, retightening the progress Nick had been managing to make and quickly adding an extra knot, foiling his attempt completely. He laughed. "Ya nearly got away I reckon."
"Goddamn it. You had your fun, now let me go," the gambler demanded, his green eyes blazing.
Ellis shook his head from side to side. "Nuh uh, I had some fun, that don't mean m'done yet." His expression changed to a mischievous grin, patting the older man's cheek with his palm.
Nick turned his head to snap at the hand but Ellis managed to withdraw it before he could latch his teeth into him. "Easy there, darlin', dun go make me get the bottle again an' sedate you further," he guffawed at his own joke. He leaned onto a hip and folded his arms. "How's 'bout you an' me make an agreement of sorts?" the southerner suggested.
"What do I get out of the deal?" he asked lowly, cock still throbbing within the confines of his pants.
Ellis chuckled, glancing down at the motion he had seen within the slacks. He reached for the belt buckle around his middle and began undoing the front of his pants. Nick licked his lips as the kid reached inside and took a hold of his prick, guiding it out of his fly and into the air. The blue eyes addressed him impishly. "Ya do what I ask, I let'chu go. An' get'chu off." He gave him a little stroke and the gambler couldn't help but buck into the motion as best he could considering his captivity.
He definitely didn't like the proposal, considering he didn't even know what he was agreeing to. On the other hand it was better than anything else at the moment, hands literally and metaphorically tied. At least he knew this way there was light at the end of the tunnel… he would be let go eventually. He turned his head and groused a "Fine."
The machinist grinned a mile wide. "First thing then," he said as he relinquished his hold on the ex-con's dick. He tilted the chair back to standing on all four legs so it would be balanced and proceeded to straddle it with his legs. "Clean me up," Ellis pointed to the mess he had made on his torso which was now in his face.
Nick made a face of utter revulsion. "Hell no."
Ellis lifted an eyebrow. "Yer gonna be sittin' in that there chair an awful long time then, darlin'."
The older man hissed, but it was obvious his partner was serious. He grimaced and steeled himself, eying the places where the kid's jizz had landed and was beginning to streak, running down his body with gravity. He shut his eyes and opened his mouth, flicking his tongue out to drag it over the salty skin and even saltier cum. Ellis hummed appreciatively, no doubt enjoying the show from above. It was bad enough taking a load in the mouth when it was still warm, but having to ingest it cool and tacky was even worse. The grooves on Nick's face deepened as he lapped obediently, having to crane his neck downward, which put an awful strain on his shoulders, but he endured, just trying to get the task over with as quickly as possible to move to the next that would lead to his freedom.
He sat up when he was finished, swallowing several times to try and get the taste out of his mouth, almost wishing for another shot of the whiskey to rinse it away.
"Ya missed a spot," Ellis said, invoking a glare from the gambler. "M'jus' screwin' wit'cha," he laughed, the only one of the two of them to find the humor amusing. His blue eyes half-lidded. "Ya sure are good with that tongue of yers…"
Nick's brow drew down suspiciously, not liking the implication veiled behind the compliment. Ellis drew back and next thing the gambler knew, he and the chair were being drug across the floor towards the pool table, chair legs scraping along the floor. He drew him all the way up to it, halting just before his knees could hit the wood. "Here we are," the youngster announced, taking a seat on the bumper again, which put his crotch practically on-level with his face.
"And just what do you intend for me to do?" Nick asked with scorn, though he had a sinking suspicion he knew what the kid wanted.
"Gimme a blow job," the Georgian grinned.
He balked. "You're not even hard," the ex-con stated flatly.
"M'sure ya'll be able tuh do somethin' 'bout that," Ellis said, patting him on the head dotingly. "I've got faith in ya."
Nick growled louder than he had before and angrily he lowered his face again to take the limp cock between his lips. It squirmed and wriggled practically the way a worm would, and without the use of his hands to hold onto the damn thing it almost felt like he was bobbing for goddamn apples. Ellis didn't bother to offer any help either, merely watching as he struggled ineffectually. Nick took a deep calming breath and slowed his motions to a more careful, calculated approach. He kept a suction on the tip with his mouth, the redneck's foreskin pinched by his lips so the prick couldn't slip away from him as he bobbed onto it. Slowly the younger man's member began to stiffen, willed to life from its spent and wilted state, expanding between his lips to require more of his mouth to work with it. Ellis gave a little groan then, eyes rolling backward in his skull. "Yeah, darlin', tha's it…"
Nick kept it up and when the kid was suitably erect enough, he drew back to take a brief reprieve, lapping up the saliva that had started to escape his mouth. He eyed the pink head, thinking to himself that their positions ought to be swapped. Ellis had said he'd 'get him off' as well as 'let him go'. He wondered how the hillbilly planned to do it. His green eyes flit upward momentarily to look into the mechanic's face.
"Well, keep goin'. What'chu waitin' for?" Ellis asked.
The ex-con snorted. "An invitation, obviously," he muttered before dragging his tongue up along the underside. He swirled it around the ridge of the southerner's cock a few times, the pulses it gave indication that the attention was good. Ellis' hands slid into his hair, applying pressure at the back of his skull to get across what he really wanted. Nick inhaled through his nose and opened his jaw again so that the length could slip between his lips, and the youngster kept pressing, forcing him lower, until he felt the head prod against the back of his already irritated throat. The gambler gave a warning growl, but it went unheeded, as Ellis tugged with his arms and the thick sex slid past his tonsils.
It nearly invoked a gag reflex, but before he could the mechanic had withdrawn. And that was only temporary as well, because then the cock was back down his throat once more. Nick gave a garbled sound as Ellis established a rhythm, essentially fucking his face and having a damn good time doing it, if the look of bliss on his features and the sharp grunts were any indication.
The cardplayer just tried to retreat to a happy place, remembering in the back of his mind occasions when Ellis had basically let him do the same to him. For one it felt great, but there was also that element of total dominance involved that was so damn appealing. Unfortunately he was on the completely wrong end of that at the moment, and it was shaming as well as infuriating.
The dick in his mouth throbbed and the subtle motion brought Nick back out of his musings, realizing the kid had nearly gotten himself there. He pressed his tongue harder to the underside and created a greater suction, encouraging him along, just wanting to get this the fuck over with already.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Ellis got out, his body tightening once again. "Oh Lord… Nick… N-Niiick…" he whined, stuttered, then gave another grunt, cramming his length down the older man's throat as he came.
Well, at least he didn't have to taste it this time. He swallowed rapidly to ensure he didn't choke, having done plenty of that already. Fuck, his throat was going to be sore tomorrow… possibly extending into the next day, to say nothing of the inflammation he could feel now. Nick gave a soft moan as Ellis extracted himself, trying not to give away just how much it hurt for fear the younger man might call him a wuss.
"Tha' was real good, honey…" the southerner drawled appreciatively, stroking his fingers through his oiled hair. "What'd I tell ya? I told'ja you'd do fine."
"Ugh, whatever…" Nick croaked, finding his voice was even more marred after having a dick rammed down it repeatedly. "Can you just let me go now…?" His shoulders ached, his joints were stiff. He almost didn't care at this point whether Ellis got him off or not, more interested in popping a couple Advil and collapsing into bed so he could forget what had transpired.
The mechanic was quiet a long moment.
The telling silence made Nick groan with dismay. "You're not 'done' yet, are you?" He bowed his head, shoulders slouching. "Shit…" he swore, knowing it had probably been too much to hope that Ellis would surrender control so soon now that he had it. "Let's get it over with…" he spoke, defeated.
It was safe to say that sometimes the kid got a wild hair up his ass and did things that were out of the ordinary, regardless of Nick's protests, whatever they might be.
Which probably informed his current… situation.
He was seated in one of the chairs from the kitchen table, though he wasn't in the kitchen, he was in the pool room. Technically it was a bedroom, but with just the two of them living in the two-story domicile, they'd converted it to what it was now, a little gaming room, which included his at-home pool table in the center, as well as a couple of pinball machines of Ellis' in the corner and several neon Budweiser signs up on the four walls.
His chair was leaned up against one of the walls, tipped such that it balanced somewhat precariously on its two back legs, while the front ones were lifted into the air. His ankles also happened to be tied to the front legs of that chair, and he was quite unable to yank them loose considering the tensile strength of the duct tape the southerner had used to affix them. It might have been a different matter entirely if he'd had use of his hands, but those too were indisposed, contorted behind the backrest of the chair, wrists lashed together with nylon rope.
It was sort of irritating to the older man that Ellis had been able to over-power him, seat him in the chair and tie him down, but what was done was done now. The young machinist was currently leaned over the side of the pool table, aiming a shot with a cue stick, guiding the front end back and forth on the knuckles of his fore and middle fingers in preparation to hit the cue ball.
And did he mention the kid was also naked?
There was a smack as two balls collided and then bounced about on the bumpers before the intended ball sunk into a pocket. Ellis gave a triumphant whoop, and Nick thought to himself that it was about time, since the kid had been chasing that particular ball around the table for the last three shots. Nick remained in broody, angry silence.
The southerner reached for his beer sitting on the corner of the table, tipping it back to take several more glugs. It wasn't the first he'd consumed either-- there were three empties scattered on the floor that were bugging the shit out of Nick's meticulous nature, hoping to hell they wouldn't leak, or worse, shatter. Ellis wiped his lips with the back of his hand, relinquishing a satisfied "Ahh…" before setting it back down. He found another shot to make and attempted it, proceeding to accidentally shoot the tip over the ball he'd been 'aiming' at.
"You know, it's a lot easier to play when you're not drunk halfway under the table," the gambler couldn't resist making the jab to his lover any longer.
Ellis turned around to look at him. "Aw, yer jus' sore cuz you ain't," he said with a dismissive wave of his wrist.
"No," Nick clarified, teeth slightly grit as he tried to keep his voice level, "I'm 'sore' because you tied me to a fucking chair and are playing with my shit in your goddamn birthday suit."
"Hey now," the mechanic lifted a finger to point at him accusingly, the rest of his hand still gripped around the brown bottle. "First of all, ya never said I couldn't play on yer table, it's the both of ours an' I got jus' as much of a right tuh it as you." Debatable, Nick thought, since it hadn't come out of either of their income specifically. "Second of all, the heck're you complainin' 'bout? I figured ya'd like gettin' tuh watch me play in the buff."
"I'm tied to a chair," Nick underlined again, the hick obviously missing that little factoid.
"Man, whatever," Ellis rolled his eyes and went back to his game, this time folding right in front of him. Nick couldn't help but stare at the globes of his ass that swayed invitingly as the mechanic coordinated his next shot, feeling his temperature rise in the pit of his stomach. The kid wasn't completely wrong, he was enjoying the view, it was just that he couldn't do anything more than enjoy it. He couldn't even give himself a hand job for Christ's sakes. He twisted his wrists within their bindings uselessly, the wooden chair groaning.
Ellis turned around at the noise. Nick immediately stopped moving, not wanting to give it away that he'd been caught trying to get loose again, but from the lopsided grin spreading across his partner's features, he presumed the kid had figured it out anyway. "Guess I am bein' a purdy awful tease though, huh?" the mechanic said, setting the butt of the stick on the floor and leaning onto it. "Bet'chu'd really like tuh lean me out over this here table an' go tuh pound-town." He gave his own rear end a slight smack with his palm.
His tongue flit out to wet his lips quickly. "That's one way of putting it…" Nick said gravelly. He could just imagine grabbing the southerner by the wrists and holding them down upon the green felt while he thrust himself in and out of the youngster. But simply imagining it wasn't enough for the ex-con. He wanted to act on the impulse.
"I kinda like you right where ya are though," Ellis said, beginning to wonder aloud as he drifted his fingers up and down the taper of the stick and scratched the scruff on his chin. "I kinda like bein' the one in charge, callin' the shots. I mean, with you all tied-up an' such, I kin do whatever the hell I like an' ya can't tell me no." He swept his arms out to either side of his body, standing proudly with legs shoulder-length apart, his expression a cockeyed grin that made it look like he thought he ruled the world.
"Ellis…" he growled, not wanting the younger man to get any more funny ideas and take this too far.
"I do think maybe ya need a li'l loosin' up though," the Georgian decided then, racking his stick momentarily to go over to the small liquor cabinet. He hunkered down to open the two doors and began rummaging around, talking to himself under his breath; the sound of bottles tinkling together echoed in his search.
"I don't feel like drinking," Nick made clear.
"An' I dun care," Ellis retorted, standing with a bottle of 80 proof bourbon whiskey and a shot glass. He uncappered the mouth as he walked towards him, taking a short swig himself. The mechanic's face screwed up, a single eye wincing shut and he shuddered and shook his head. "Man a'livin'! Tha's some strong shit! Whew boy!" He carefully aligned the spout and the glass, filling it nearly to the ridge, then set the bottle down.
Nick felt his body tighten, staring at the dark fluid en route to his mouth. "Ellis, I said I don't want to--"
The kid put a hand around his throat in order to tip his head back and force his lips to part. "Down the hatch, darlin'," he gave the warning before pouring it in.
His green eyes widened at the substance suddenly searing down his throat, and he spluttered, almost choking on it when he tried to swallow too soon and there was still more on its way down. He coughed hoarsely when Ellis pulled the empty glass away, the alcohol leaving a painful stinging dryness all the way down his neck.
The redneck stooped to pick the bottle back up and started to pour a second shot. "Ellis…" he wheezed out, still trying to recover from the first one and certainly not ready for another. But the younger man either failed to hear him or failed 'to care' again, repeating the rather rough treatment and leaving his partner coughing all the harder.
There had been a time in his life when he'd made a habit of consuming strong drinks like this without anything to water it down. He'd been more used to it at the time too, able to tolerate the burn in his throat for the ache in his heart and all that sappy-ass poetic shit. He also assumed his alcohol tolerance had been higher back then, and with the rate Ellis was pouring it down him, he was going to be shit-faced in short order.
The third went down. "That's enough-- that's--" he gasped as he rasped, "enough-- shit!" He proceeded to have another hacking fit.
His partner paused, considering his claim for a moment before nodding agreeably and stoppering the top. "Yer prolly right. I dun want'chu passin' out or nothin'."
Nick went slack in his chair, breathing deeply through his nose in attempt to ward off the stinging in his throat. Yeah, or give him alcohol poisoning. Little shit. His eyes watered.
"Guess I oughta do somethin' while I wait fer it tuh kick in, huh?" Ellis then wondered, running his hand through his short locks. He snapped his fingers. "I know what'll get'cha goin'. Sit tight," he said, not even catching the irony of his words as he dashed off.
The cardplayer groaned, not really eager to find out what the kid had in store for him, wishing he could somehow get free. Even if there had been some kind of elaborate plan he could come up with, Ellis returned only moments later, whistling a tune and a tube of lubricant gripped loosely in his palm. The younger man boosted himself up onto the edge of the pool table and spread his legs, causing Nick to stop struggling a moment and lift an eyebrow in interest instead. Ellis grinned and squeezed some of the gel onto a couple fingers. He held them up, turning them about so the light could reflect off the shiny substance showoffishly. "Know where these're goin', don't'cha?" he goaded with a smirk. "They're goin' where ya wish you were goin'." With the words Ellis dropped his hand underneath his testicles and circled the two digits around the pucker of his anus.
Nick's green eyes dilated at the sight. It wasn't the first time the Georgian had fingered himself in front of him, but that didn't make it any less arousing or mesmerizing to spectate. He watched as the hick's entrance began to loosen with the self-stimulation, until he was able to slide the digits up into his own body and begin pumping them. "Ohh yeah, tha' feels good…" Ellis breathed, arching slightly and using his other arm to keep himself propped upright while his other hand was busy. "Real good, yeah…"
Blood had begun to pool in the gambler's groin, getting hard from the sight-show as well as the noises now falling from what should have been his partner's lips. He gave a little growl, the sound coming to him easily considering all the whiskey that had been forced down his throat. "Little fucking tease… if I could get loose…" he began to threaten.
His words seemed to excite the southerner, who increased the speed of his fingers to a significantly faster one, toes curling where they dangled in the air. "Mmyeah… tell me what'chu'd do tuh me, honey… Tell me what'chu'd do…"
"I'd bend you over that table and give you a spanking for starters," Nick spat, annoyed at his lover's persistence in keeping him tied up and making him watch this nonsense when it ought to be him up there. Ellis smiled coquettishly, even as his cheeks began to flush with heat. "And once your ass was pink and smarting, I'd fuck you. And I sure as hell wouldn't be gentle."
"God, tha' sounds hot…" the mechanic gave a moan, nibbling at his lower lip. He curled his free hand around his weeping cock to stroke it in time to his fingering, making little whimpering noises.
"Then after I finished claiming you, I'd put you in this chair, tie you up, see how you like it," Nick hissed, jerking on the reigns behind his back. His seat wobbled on the two legs, and in his growing inebriation, it almost felt like it was about to fall over, so he promptly quit.
"Ohh…" Ellis groaned at that. "Would'ju fuck me again?" he inquired, tugging his dick fervently. "In the chair? While I was tied up?"
"Yeah…" the gambler took the suggestion, finding it to be a pretty good one to exact his punishment, his own head starting to become a little hazy for ideas. "I wouldn't stop until your smug ass was aching and you couldn't take another minute."
"Shiiit…" the mechanic groaned, lowering his back onto the green tabletop. Nick watched as the kid twisted and contorted his fingers within himself, angling for that special spot that if the gambler hadn't been tied up, he was certain he'd be ramming into right now. His eyes involuntarily crossed a bit when Ellis spread his legs wider in attempt to get his digits deeper, but he forced them to focus despite the mild intoxication. "Yeah… oh yeah…!" the kid called out, fisting his cock hurriedly. It was only a few moans later that the young man was shooting his seed into the air in an arc, splattering himself with it. Thank God none of it hit the table.
"Mm… mm ahh…" Ellis made noises of intense relief as he milked himself dry, looking incredibly relaxed on top of his pool table, almost ready to drift off into a pleasant dreamland. Nick gave another little wrench, thinking about how he'd make good on every word of his threat if he could just somehow get loose. It could have been his half-drunken imagination, but he thought he felt the bindings give, if only a little, and that spurred him to tug harder.
The younger man pushed up onto his elbows, giving a complacent sigh and ruffling out his hair before glancing over to his bound partner. "Whoa, whoa, what'chu doin' there, sugar?" he inquired, seeing the way the man's arms were worming and wriggling. He stood and walked over as the ex-con openly cursed, and he bent to check that he was still secure. "Aw, now ain't'chu a slippery one?" he said, retightening the progress Nick had been managing to make and quickly adding an extra knot, foiling his attempt completely. He laughed. "Ya nearly got away I reckon."
"Goddamn it. You had your fun, now let me go," the gambler demanded, his green eyes blazing.
Ellis shook his head from side to side. "Nuh uh, I had some fun, that don't mean m'done yet." His expression changed to a mischievous grin, patting the older man's cheek with his palm.
Nick turned his head to snap at the hand but Ellis managed to withdraw it before he could latch his teeth into him. "Easy there, darlin', dun go make me get the bottle again an' sedate you further," he guffawed at his own joke. He leaned onto a hip and folded his arms. "How's 'bout you an' me make an agreement of sorts?" the southerner suggested.
"What do I get out of the deal?" he asked lowly, cock still throbbing within the confines of his pants.
Ellis chuckled, glancing down at the motion he had seen within the slacks. He reached for the belt buckle around his middle and began undoing the front of his pants. Nick licked his lips as the kid reached inside and took a hold of his prick, guiding it out of his fly and into the air. The blue eyes addressed him impishly. "Ya do what I ask, I let'chu go. An' get'chu off." He gave him a little stroke and the gambler couldn't help but buck into the motion as best he could considering his captivity.
He definitely didn't like the proposal, considering he didn't even know what he was agreeing to. On the other hand it was better than anything else at the moment, hands literally and metaphorically tied. At least he knew this way there was light at the end of the tunnel… he would be let go eventually. He turned his head and groused a "Fine."
The machinist grinned a mile wide. "First thing then," he said as he relinquished his hold on the ex-con's dick. He tilted the chair back to standing on all four legs so it would be balanced and proceeded to straddle it with his legs. "Clean me up," Ellis pointed to the mess he had made on his torso which was now in his face.
Nick made a face of utter revulsion. "Hell no."
Ellis lifted an eyebrow. "Yer gonna be sittin' in that there chair an awful long time then, darlin'."
The older man hissed, but it was obvious his partner was serious. He grimaced and steeled himself, eying the places where the kid's jizz had landed and was beginning to streak, running down his body with gravity. He shut his eyes and opened his mouth, flicking his tongue out to drag it over the salty skin and even saltier cum. Ellis hummed appreciatively, no doubt enjoying the show from above. It was bad enough taking a load in the mouth when it was still warm, but having to ingest it cool and tacky was even worse. The grooves on Nick's face deepened as he lapped obediently, having to crane his neck downward, which put an awful strain on his shoulders, but he endured, just trying to get the task over with as quickly as possible to move to the next that would lead to his freedom.
He sat up when he was finished, swallowing several times to try and get the taste out of his mouth, almost wishing for another shot of the whiskey to rinse it away.
"Ya missed a spot," Ellis said, invoking a glare from the gambler. "M'jus' screwin' wit'cha," he laughed, the only one of the two of them to find the humor amusing. His blue eyes half-lidded. "Ya sure are good with that tongue of yers…"
Nick's brow drew down suspiciously, not liking the implication veiled behind the compliment. Ellis drew back and next thing the gambler knew, he and the chair were being drug across the floor towards the pool table, chair legs scraping along the floor. He drew him all the way up to it, halting just before his knees could hit the wood. "Here we are," the youngster announced, taking a seat on the bumper again, which put his crotch practically on-level with his face.
"And just what do you intend for me to do?" Nick asked with scorn, though he had a sinking suspicion he knew what the kid wanted.
"Gimme a blow job," the Georgian grinned.
He balked. "You're not even hard," the ex-con stated flatly.
"M'sure ya'll be able tuh do somethin' 'bout that," Ellis said, patting him on the head dotingly. "I've got faith in ya."
Nick growled louder than he had before and angrily he lowered his face again to take the limp cock between his lips. It squirmed and wriggled practically the way a worm would, and without the use of his hands to hold onto the damn thing it almost felt like he was bobbing for goddamn apples. Ellis didn't bother to offer any help either, merely watching as he struggled ineffectually. Nick took a deep calming breath and slowed his motions to a more careful, calculated approach. He kept a suction on the tip with his mouth, the redneck's foreskin pinched by his lips so the prick couldn't slip away from him as he bobbed onto it. Slowly the younger man's member began to stiffen, willed to life from its spent and wilted state, expanding between his lips to require more of his mouth to work with it. Ellis gave a little groan then, eyes rolling backward in his skull. "Yeah, darlin', tha's it…"
Nick kept it up and when the kid was suitably erect enough, he drew back to take a brief reprieve, lapping up the saliva that had started to escape his mouth. He eyed the pink head, thinking to himself that their positions ought to be swapped. Ellis had said he'd 'get him off' as well as 'let him go'. He wondered how the hillbilly planned to do it. His green eyes flit upward momentarily to look into the mechanic's face.
"Well, keep goin'. What'chu waitin' for?" Ellis asked.
The ex-con snorted. "An invitation, obviously," he muttered before dragging his tongue up along the underside. He swirled it around the ridge of the southerner's cock a few times, the pulses it gave indication that the attention was good. Ellis' hands slid into his hair, applying pressure at the back of his skull to get across what he really wanted. Nick inhaled through his nose and opened his jaw again so that the length could slip between his lips, and the youngster kept pressing, forcing him lower, until he felt the head prod against the back of his already irritated throat. The gambler gave a warning growl, but it went unheeded, as Ellis tugged with his arms and the thick sex slid past his tonsils.
It nearly invoked a gag reflex, but before he could the mechanic had withdrawn. And that was only temporary as well, because then the cock was back down his throat once more. Nick gave a garbled sound as Ellis established a rhythm, essentially fucking his face and having a damn good time doing it, if the look of bliss on his features and the sharp grunts were any indication.
The cardplayer just tried to retreat to a happy place, remembering in the back of his mind occasions when Ellis had basically let him do the same to him. For one it felt great, but there was also that element of total dominance involved that was so damn appealing. Unfortunately he was on the completely wrong end of that at the moment, and it was shaming as well as infuriating.
The dick in his mouth throbbed and the subtle motion brought Nick back out of his musings, realizing the kid had nearly gotten himself there. He pressed his tongue harder to the underside and created a greater suction, encouraging him along, just wanting to get this the fuck over with already.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Ellis got out, his body tightening once again. "Oh Lord… Nick… N-Niiick…" he whined, stuttered, then gave another grunt, cramming his length down the older man's throat as he came.
Well, at least he didn't have to taste it this time. He swallowed rapidly to ensure he didn't choke, having done plenty of that already. Fuck, his throat was going to be sore tomorrow… possibly extending into the next day, to say nothing of the inflammation he could feel now. Nick gave a soft moan as Ellis extracted himself, trying not to give away just how much it hurt for fear the younger man might call him a wuss.
"Tha' was real good, honey…" the southerner drawled appreciatively, stroking his fingers through his oiled hair. "What'd I tell ya? I told'ja you'd do fine."
"Ugh, whatever…" Nick croaked, finding his voice was even more marred after having a dick rammed down it repeatedly. "Can you just let me go now…?" His shoulders ached, his joints were stiff. He almost didn't care at this point whether Ellis got him off or not, more interested in popping a couple Advil and collapsing into bed so he could forget what had transpired.
The mechanic was quiet a long moment.
The telling silence made Nick groan with dismay. "You're not 'done' yet, are you?" He bowed his head, shoulders slouching. "Shit…" he swore, knowing it had probably been too much to hope that Ellis would surrender control so soon now that he had it. "Let's get it over with…" he spoke, defeated.