He pulls away from me and I look at him curiously. What...?
His face has changed, and I feel a cold stab in my gut. What's wrong? What did I say? I remember that expression, that icy sneer, from before I loved him.
"Get upstairs."
Thank fuck. One sort of tension relaxes, but another thrums tighter. Fuck. I'll kill anyone who tries, and his face still and cold.
I get up, not managing nonchalance. Look at him for a moment, decide I'd better not say anything, and head upstairs. Obediently, I suppose you'd call it.
Hear him come up after me. "Take off your clothes." The old voice in the back of my head says, Fuck you, Shairan. I shuck my clothes, kick them aside, and when I look up he's watching me, eyes giving nothing away. I feel exposed, more-than-naked, especially here in his room with the sky stretching out around us.
He takes off his watch, slow and deliberate, folds up his sleeves.
And takes off his belt.
A sudden hard jolt of panic, childhood memory. Not that my father ever thrashed us, but that was always his threat: You don't behave, I'll take my belt to you. I think I'm out of my depth here, and my breath is shallow and nervous. Force it slower, watch his hands warily. I'm a little bit afraid of him, now, and my cock is rigid against my stomach like a teenager's. Don't know how he does this to me.
He looks a little afraid... and he is very, very hard. I won't let anyone hurt you, love, but I'm going to. You're fucking mine. My erection is pressing against my fly.
"Lie on your stomach on the bed," I say. "Now." I breathe in and out. "Put your hands above your head." I open the wardrobe and pull out a box from the bottom. I haven't taken these out in a long time. Inside is a pair of standard issue police cuffs. I approach the bed.
"I expect you know how these work," I say, dangling them in front of him. I slide the chain between the bars of the headboard and click the cuffs around his wrists. "I love you," I say, close to his ear. It sounds like a threat. "And I'm going to show you who you belong to."
Feel the metal snap hard around my wrists. Fight the urge to pull against them - these things're no joking matter. Do my tendons some real damage if I fight against them too much.
"I love you." I can feel his breath against my ear. "And I'm going to show you who you belong to."
Yes. Oh, love, yes. But when he moves away, and I can't see him even from the corner of my eye, I start to feel afraid again. Feels like he's taking forever to do whatever he's going to do.
I can see how tense he is from the way he is holding his muscles. I have to breathe out once, hard, to steady myself. I fold my belt in half and give it an experimental crack against the palm of my hand. It sounds very loud, and I smile before I bring it down against his ass.
I jump when I hear the crack of leather on skin. "Count. Nothing else."
I nod as best I can in this position, and then before I'm ready there's a sharp stripe of fire across my ass. Fuck! - manage to stifle the word in the pillow. Jesus christ that hurt.
He says something into the pillow, and then at last he says "one."
"Good," I say coolly, and I bring down the belt again. Two. Three. "You are mine, Tez. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you right now." Four. Five. I'm breathing hard now, though I keep my voice steady, and then I strap him across the back.
My ass is burning, and I can't reach down to rub it. "You are mine, Tez. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you right now."
It's probably wrong that that makes me relax. Don't fucking care. It's out of my hands now. Like he said, he can do what he wants with me, and there's nothing I can do.
It's freeing. It's fucking perfect. Whatever the hell he does, I trust him, crazy as it is.
I count the next strokes, each number jerked out of me by pain. And the sixth is across my back, and on the broader muscle the pain turns sweet and I groan. Yes. Al. "Six."
He makes a rattling sound in his throat when the belt hits his back, and my breath hitches. "Six."
Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. I bring the belt down across his back, and the red welts it raises makes my nostrils flare, my prick harden to the point of pain against the fly of my pants. Fuck. I climb onto the bed, straddling him, knees either side of his ass. I run my hand over his back. The skin is hot, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip.
"Tell me you want me," I say. "Tell me what you want."
Whether or not he'll get it, however, is another question. But I want him to beg.
Almost object when the stinging lashes of the belt stop - but he told me not to say anything else, so I swallow my objection.
He climbs on top of me, and the friction of his pants against my sore ass is chafing, provoking. Bet he knows it, too.
"Tell me you want me. Tell me what you want."
"Always want you," I say at once. "Always. And - oh, fuck, Al. Anything. God. Everything. Yours. Anything." Make myself breathe through my need. "Want you to - push me. Make me take what you want." So fucking glad my face is buried in the pillow. "Please."
Oh fuck, oh Tez. Those words... I want to push his ass cheeks apart, fuck him hard, hearing him beg. I know he wants that, too.
But I can hear the humiliated throb in his voice, and it makes me cruel. You like it, don't you, love, to be degraded? I think of how I pushed him up against the wall of the toilet stall and my breath comes hard and fast.
"Oh, you'll take whatever I do, Tez," I say, voice hard. "I'll fucking use you and you'll like it." I shift a little further back down him, and I rest my hand on his red ass. With my other hand I unzip my fly, and I pull my cock through the fly of my shorts. The relief of holding my prick makes me groan softly. "I'm going to come over your back, and you'll enjoy every fucking minute." I smack the underside of his ass hard with my left hand, and with my right I move my hand along my cock. I don't bother trying to hold back a groan. I want him to hear it.
"Oh, you'll take whatever I do, Tez. I'll fucking use you and you'll like it."
So fucking hard that my cock hurts where it's pressed up between me and the bed. I shift a bit under, trying for stimulation, but he has me pinned. Words he says are nearly enough for me to -
"I'm going to come over your back, and you'll enjoy every fucking minute."
Hear myself whimper even before he smacks my ass. Not sure if it's frustration or intense, filthy arousal. Both, I think. Hear the sound he makes as he shifts on me, and oh fuck, Al, please.
"Yes," I say aloud, before I realise I'm going to. "Oh god. Yes." I want him to fuck me, but I want that too, to hear the sounds he makes, know it's over me, for him to make me - oh, god, something for him to jerk off onto, something for him to fucking use and I'll like it -
I need this. I never knew how much, before him. Need to be brought down like this, to where I can hardly think, to where there's no decisions, barely any of me, just him and my body.
"Please, Al. I want to feel you - come on me." Even so, I can hardly choke the words out. My own shame arouses me, a sharp and complex twist of feeling.
His words - Fuck. It's not going to be hard to come, not at all.
"Yes," I say, between gritted teeth, and I slap him again, smack of flesh against flesh making me moan as I move my hand faster against my cock. Looking down at him, at the way he's cuffed, the marks all over him - oh, fuck, fuck.
I'm breathing hard and fast, jerking my hand against my cock, and I dig my fingers into his ass. I make a groaning sound deep in my throat, a hoarse rattle of desire, and fuck, he's beautiful like this, bruised and bound and mine -
I come hard, and seeing the first spray of semen against his back makes my cock pulse, my hips twitch, until I'm spent.
I pant, and my head swims. I lean forward after a moment and kiss Tez's shoulder. Then I roll onto my back next to him on the bed, and after a little while I reach for the key and unfasten his cuffs. He should have his turn, after all.
Something so deep, so animal in the satisfaction I feel when he comes. Match the sound he makes, deep rough groan dragged up out of me, and yes, Al, mark me like that, now that you're mine, finally, now that you're - you're claiming me -
It's fucking perfect.
I'm breathing so hard that my throat hurts. Feel him kiss my shoulder, and then his weight's off me. I'm lying here beside him still bound, wrists and shoulder sore where I've jerked against the cuffs without meaning to, his jizz cooling on my back. Yes, perfect.
When he undoes the cuffs, the relief of being able to move my arms makes me realise just how sore they were. Just flex them for a moment, rub at the skin of my wrists. Then twist on my side and look at him, all flushed and as dishevelled as he ever gets, cock hanging out of his trousers.
I watch him rubbing his wrists, and although I've just come, the gesture makes me touch my tongue to my lips as if I'm parched. He twists round and looks at me.
"Now. Your turn."
I give him a slow, lazy smile, and I put my hands behind my head.
....smug bastard. Times like this, I remember why I hated him.
Push myself up on one elbow and touch his face, very gently. He really is remarkably beautiful, even with that obnoxiously self-satisfied expression.
"Yes. Really."
My cock aches, and I wonder if the bastard knows how hard this is for me, to go from that place of deep abandonment to him lying there expectant. If that's what he wants, though - isn't it just another way of doing what he's told me?
I can feel his spunk drying on my back, and close my eyes a moment. How appalled so many people would be, if they could see us now.
If I don't come soon, think I'm going to fucking die.
Right, then. Best get to the point. Push myself up, while he looks at me curiously, throw a leg over him, and settle my weight heavily on his chest, legs either side of his head.
Tap his jaw smartly. "Come on, then, boy. Open up."
His face has changed, and I feel a cold stab in my gut. What's wrong? What did I say? I remember that expression, that icy sneer, from before I loved him.
"Get upstairs."
Thank fuck. One sort of tension relaxes, but another thrums tighter. Fuck. I'll kill anyone who tries, and his face still and cold.
I get up, not managing nonchalance. Look at him for a moment, decide I'd better not say anything, and head upstairs. Obediently, I suppose you'd call it.
Hear him come up after me. "Take off your clothes." The old voice in the back of my head says, Fuck you, Shairan. I shuck my clothes, kick them aside, and when I look up he's watching me, eyes giving nothing away. I feel exposed, more-than-naked, especially here in his room with the sky stretching out around us.
He takes off his watch, slow and deliberate, folds up his sleeves.
And takes off his belt.
A sudden hard jolt of panic, childhood memory. Not that my father ever thrashed us, but that was always his threat: You don't behave, I'll take my belt to you. I think I'm out of my depth here, and my breath is shallow and nervous. Force it slower, watch his hands warily. I'm a little bit afraid of him, now, and my cock is rigid against my stomach like a teenager's. Don't know how he does this to me.
Reply
"Lie on your stomach on the bed," I say. "Now." I breathe in and out. "Put your hands above your head." I open the wardrobe and pull out a box from the bottom. I haven't taken these out in a long time. Inside is a pair of standard issue police cuffs. I approach the bed.
"I expect you know how these work," I say, dangling them in front of him. I slide the chain between the bars of the headboard and click the cuffs around his wrists. "I love you," I say, close to his ear. It sounds like a threat. "And I'm going to show you who you belong to."
I move back down the bed, and I pick up the belt.
Reply
"I love you." I can feel his breath against my ear. "And I'm going to show you who you belong to."
Yes. Oh, love, yes. But when he moves away, and I can't see him even from the corner of my eye, I start to feel afraid again. Feels like he's taking forever to do whatever he's going to do.
Reply
"Count," I say, voice a whiplash. "Nothing else."
Reply
I nod as best I can in this position, and then before I'm ready there's a sharp stripe of fire across my ass. Fuck! - manage to stifle the word in the pillow. Jesus christ that hurt.
"One," I say, when I can speak steadily.
Reply
"Good," I say coolly, and I bring down the belt again. Two. Three. "You are mine, Tez. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you right now." Four. Five. I'm breathing hard now, though I keep my voice steady, and then I strap him across the back.
Reply
It's probably wrong that that makes me relax. Don't fucking care. It's out of my hands now. Like he said, he can do what he wants with me, and there's nothing I can do.
It's freeing. It's fucking perfect. Whatever the hell he does, I trust him, crazy as it is.
I count the next strokes, each number jerked out of me by pain. And the sixth is across my back, and on the broader muscle the pain turns sweet and I groan. Yes. Al. "Six."
Reply
Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. I bring the belt down across his back, and the red welts it raises makes my nostrils flare, my prick harden to the point of pain against the fly of my pants. Fuck. I climb onto the bed, straddling him, knees either side of his ass. I run my hand over his back. The skin is hot, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip.
"Tell me you want me," I say. "Tell me what you want."
Whether or not he'll get it, however, is another question. But I want him to beg.
Reply
He climbs on top of me, and the friction of his pants against my sore ass is chafing, provoking. Bet he knows it, too.
"Tell me you want me. Tell me what you want."
"Always want you," I say at once. "Always. And - oh, fuck, Al. Anything. God. Everything. Yours. Anything." Make myself breathe through my need. "Want you to - push me. Make me take what you want." So fucking glad my face is buried in the pillow. "Please."
Reply
But I can hear the humiliated throb in his voice, and it makes me cruel. You like it, don't you, love, to be degraded? I think of how I pushed him up against the wall of the toilet stall and my breath comes hard and fast.
"Oh, you'll take whatever I do, Tez," I say, voice hard. "I'll fucking use you and you'll like it." I shift a little further back down him, and I rest my hand on his red ass. With my other hand I unzip my fly, and I pull my cock through the fly of my shorts. The relief of holding my prick makes me groan softly. "I'm going to come over your back, and you'll enjoy every fucking minute." I smack the underside of his ass hard with my left hand, and with my right I move my hand along my cock. I don't bother trying to hold back a groan. I want him to hear it.
Reply
So fucking hard that my cock hurts where it's pressed up between me and the bed. I shift a bit under, trying for stimulation, but he has me pinned. Words he says are nearly enough for me to -
"I'm going to come over your back, and you'll enjoy every fucking minute."
Hear myself whimper even before he smacks my ass. Not sure if it's frustration or intense, filthy arousal. Both, I think. Hear the sound he makes as he shifts on me, and oh fuck, Al, please.
"Yes," I say aloud, before I realise I'm going to. "Oh god. Yes." I want him to fuck me, but I want that too, to hear the sounds he makes, know it's over me, for him to make me - oh, god, something for him to jerk off onto, something for him to fucking use and I'll like it -
I need this. I never knew how much, before him. Need to be brought down like this, to where I can hardly think, to where there's no decisions, barely any of me, just him and my body.
"Please, Al. I want to feel you - come on me." Even so, I can hardly choke the words out. My own shame arouses me, a sharp and complex twist of feeling.
Reply
His words - Fuck. It's not going to be hard to come, not at all.
"Yes," I say, between gritted teeth, and I slap him again, smack of flesh against flesh making me moan as I move my hand faster against my cock. Looking down at him, at the way he's cuffed, the marks all over him - oh, fuck, fuck.
I'm breathing hard and fast, jerking my hand against my cock, and I dig my fingers into his ass. I make a groaning sound deep in my throat, a hoarse rattle of desire, and fuck, he's beautiful like this, bruised and bound and mine -
I come hard, and seeing the first spray of semen against his back makes my cock pulse, my hips twitch, until I'm spent.
I pant, and my head swims. I lean forward after a moment and kiss Tez's shoulder. Then I roll onto my back next to him on the bed, and after a little while I reach for the key and unfasten his cuffs. He should have his turn, after all.
Reply
It's fucking perfect.
I'm breathing so hard that my throat hurts. Feel him kiss my shoulder, and then his weight's off me. I'm lying here beside him still bound, wrists and shoulder sore where I've jerked against the cuffs without meaning to, his jizz cooling on my back. Yes, perfect.
When he undoes the cuffs, the relief of being able to move my arms makes me realise just how sore they were. Just flex them for a moment, rub at the skin of my wrists. Then twist on my side and look at him, all flushed and as dishevelled as he ever gets, cock hanging out of his trousers.
"Now," I say. "Your turn."
Reply
"Now. Your turn."
I give him a slow, lazy smile, and I put my hands behind my head.
"Really?" I say. "Well, then."
I cannot wait to see what he will do.
Reply
Push myself up on one elbow and touch his face, very gently. He really is remarkably beautiful, even with that obnoxiously self-satisfied expression.
"Yes. Really."
My cock aches, and I wonder if the bastard knows how hard this is for me, to go from that place of deep abandonment to him lying there expectant. If that's what he wants, though - isn't it just another way of doing what he's told me?
I can feel his spunk drying on my back, and close my eyes a moment. How appalled so many people would be, if they could see us now.
If I don't come soon, think I'm going to fucking die.
Right, then. Best get to the point. Push myself up, while he looks at me curiously, throw a leg over him, and settle my weight heavily on his chest, legs either side of his head.
Tap his jaw smartly. "Come on, then, boy. Open up."
Reply
Leave a comment