The Photographer's Equipment, Part 1 of 2
Title: The Photographer's Equipment, Part 1 of 2
Author: septemberoses
Fandom: True Blood
Rating: NC17 for porn, dubious consent, toys, games, bondage
Pairing: Godric/Eric
Word count: 2000
Summary: Godric and Eric continue their session with the photographer they met on Godric's birthday. This is a sequel to The Photographer.
Warning: People wanted a sequel to the Photographer, and here is Part 1. I decided to heed the advice of those of you who said to warn up front and then let my freak flag fly. He was breaking out his toys at the end of the last chapter, so this fic is a little more intense, and also somewhat kinkier, although I'm up to my usual shenanigans. No humans were injured in the making of this porn.
They didn't have to wait long for the photographer to re-emerge from the back room of his studio, pushing a metal trolley; as it turned out, he had a fascinating and extensive collection of toys and restraining devices that indicated the true depths of his depravity. Even Eric was impressed.
The first thing that had to be tried out, though, was the old-fashioned whipping stool the photographer had mentioned, and which he obligingly fetched for Eric. Since Godric was already overdue for his spanking, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to put it to good use. But first, Eric decided it was time to trade his silk necktie, which was still binding Godric's wrists behind his back, for something specially constructed for the job at hand. He was lost in the pleasant process of selecting from the array of manacles on display when he heard a separate, quieter set of footsteps, accompanied by a different smell. Eric looked up to find a pretty young man with dark hair and dark eyes now watching them with interest. This was a different man from the one who had been here earlier; Eric judged him about Godric's size, maybe a bit taller.
"This is Christian," the photographer said. "I took the liberty of telephoning him, I hope you don't mind." The boy smiled at them shyly.
"Christian belongs to me," the photographer explained.
"Does he, now?" Eric smiled back, the smile made a little less reassuring by the fangs. "Can we borrow him to play with? We'll return him in good working order."
"Of course. Christian, take your clothes off." And the boy did, stripping down in front of them, his face a little flushed. He had a dancer's body, slender but very strong, as well as a dancer's graceful movements.
"Now undress me," Eric said, and Christian did, removing the rest of Eric's rumpled clothing without a word, carefully folding his trousers and placing them across the back of the chair. Eric was thinking what a nice slave he'd make; the photographer was a lucky man.
"Now undress him," Eric directed, and Christian did the same for Godric, looking a little more uncomfortable this time as he added Godric's clothing to the pile on the chair.
Eric lifted the boy's face and stroked his cheek. He was not so young as he'd first looked - Eric guessed his early twenties, although with humans sometimes it was hard to tell, particularly when they blushed so nicely, as this one did. Eric could feel the heat from Christian's face rising up under his hand, although the boy hadn't quite risen up everywhere else. But after all, they'd just met. The night was still young.
Eric leaned in, sniffing the boy's neck delicately. Christian shivered but did not move otherwise.
"Do you know what I am?"
"Yes."
"And are you afraid?"
"Yes, a little."
Eric slid a thumb along the boy's smooth jawline.
"I won't hurt you … well, not much, and if I do, you'll like it. Now, do you see this lovely, naked creature here in front of you with those striking tattoos? Do you think he's handsome?"
"Yes." And Christian smiled.
"I promised him I'd suck him off after his spanking. But since you're here, you're going to do it for me. We're not quite ready for that yet, though. Here, finish tying him up."
Godric was bent over the tall whipping stool, his feet several inches from the floor and his ankles lashed to the stool's splayed wooden legs, his abdomen cradled in the curved leather seat, his upper body hanging down the other side. His hands were bound behind him by wide leather cuffs that were laced together. He turned his head, a cheerful expression on his face, watching as the boy finished the lacing, then attached the wrist cuffs to a wide strap that ran up Godric's back and hooked to the leather collar around his neck. The boy finished checking the buckles and adjustment straps and tightening them as needed.
"Are you all right?" the boy asked him kindly. "It's not too tight, is it?"
"Oh, no, not at all, it's quite nice, thank you."
Eric was trying to decide between the strap and the small flogger when something unfamiliar caught his eye.
"What's that?" he asked the photographer, who looked up from his camera.
"That's a power box. It provides electrical stimulation."
Eric frowned, examining it.
"How does it work?"
"It's quite simple. You see, you use it with these," the photographer said, gesturing to the trolley, "and these are the pinch leads. These buttons are the control knobs, the power and frequency can be adjusted in several ways."
A slow smile broke on Eric's face as he began to get the full picture.
"That's … disgusting. Does it hurt?"
"Well, no, not at the lower settings. I know it looks a bit grim but it's perfectly safe, and it's quite something. It works wonders on Christian, he's very compliant afterwards."
Eric started to laugh.
"Why don't you give me a demonstration?" He tilted his head in Godric's direction. "On him."
Godric looked at them and blinked.
"Very well." The photographer gestured at the table. "Do you have any … particular…"
"Oh, you pick out something nice for him. You're the expert." And Eric got back to the business of choosing what he was going to use for Godric's whipping.
Eric kept the beating gentle. One, he didn't want to break the whipping stool, which they certainly would if Godric put up a struggle. Two, he felt compelled to watch Godric's reactions as the photographer toyed with the dials on the box in his hand. It seemed to be having quite an effect on Godric.
So eventually Eric handed the strap over to Christian, who was happy to take over the task and seemed to have the knack for it. This left Eric free to squat down in front of the stool so he could study Godric's face. Godric's eyes were closed; he was biting his lip, his brow creased as if he were in a moment of intense concentration.
"How is that?" The photographer's hand moved to adjust a dial. Godric made a strange little sound, moaning without opening his mouth.
"Does it feel peculiar?" A single sharp nod of the head. Godric's face was a study of pleasure and tension. Eric ran his fingertips up and down his maker's back, feeling him shiver.
"Do you want me to tell him to stop?"
"No-please don't--" and the rest of his answer was cut off as the photographer made another carefully calibrated adjustment. Godric let out a gasp and then another long, low moan as he twitched under Eric's fingers. This device was very interesting. Eric made a mental note to ask the photographer where he'd bought it.
Having released Godric from the whipping stool, Eric carried him to the large pillows that Christian had produced. They rested quietly, Godric with his head against Eric's chest, his eyes closed. Eric traced the tattoo on Godric's collarbone, letting his maker collect himself.
After a few minutes, with a glance and a nod from Eric, Christian joined them, resting a hand on Godric's shoulder before kissing him on the cheek. Eric smiled, watching him take the most tender care, as if Godric were fragile and in need of reassurance. The boy moved slowly, planting soft kisses as he traveled down the still, pale body along the way to offering some long-awaited, much desired relief.
The boy was in no great hurry, pausing to run his tongue along the milky-white skin of Godric's inner thighs, shifting Godric's legs apart so that he could kneel between them. Eric ran his hand across Godric's chest, stroking his nipples, as Christian moved his mouth toward his destination, his tongue darting out, his hands cupping, stroking. And not too long thereafter, Godric arched his back, eyes still closed, his mouth seeking Eric's as one hand reached to stroke the boy's soft hair.
Now they had switched places, and Christian writhed beneath them on his back, Eric holding onto his throat quite gently to help keep him still. It was fun to hold humans that way, clearly they found it somewhat alarming even if you weren't squeezing. This one, though, seemed game enough, and they were being careful not to damage him. That was the chief downside of playing with humans, they were so breakable. But Eric had had plenty of practice.
Eric looked down. Godric had been taking his time, enjoying himself, being leisurely about pleasuring the boy with his hands as his mouth explored elsewhere. Now his mouth was pressed against the boy's pale inner thigh, the smell of blood heavy in the air, although no drops escaped. The boy's chest was heaving, his legs twitching violently. Godric's hands pressed his thighs down into the carpet so he wouldn't injure himself thrashing about.
"Are you all right?" asked the photographer, but the boy was far beyond being able to answer at this point, his head rolling from side to side while he groaned.
The photographer stopped taking pictures and looked at Eric anxiously.
"Don't worry, we're not hurting him."
"He looks like he's in pain."
"He's not, trust me." Eric grinned. The lad wouldn't forget this any time soon.
"But are you sure--" the photographer still looked worried.
"Would you like to find out for yourself?" Eric raised his eyebrow. "I'd be happy to show you."
The two humans lay on the floor, naked. Godric had stopped and positioned them next to each other, the right hand of the photographer clasping the left hand of the boy. It made a pretty picture. Godric raised his head from between the boy's legs and looked at Eric, smiling, a small smear of blood next to his mouth. The boy seemed more or less out of it at this point, Godric having toyed with him for about as long as a normal human could endure the pleasure before taking leave of his senses. The photographer was still very much awake, however, his hands stroking his own chest mindlessly while Eric drank small, tender mouthfuls from the wound on his inner thigh, a wound that now matched the boy's. Eric was impressed; the photographer had extraordinary powers of concentration and endurance for a human, so Eric was taking perhaps more than his usual liberties with the man. He thought the extra efforts were deserved and appreciated. He hoped the man had a strong heart; sometimes they dropped dead from the excitement, and that was problematic. But worrying about it wouldn't change anything. He licked at the small, errant drop of blood running down the man's thigh.
"Don't get any of that on my carpet," Godric said. He was sitting up now and watching Eric, one elbow resting on his knee. The boy was played out for the time being, although Eric could hear his strong heartbeat and his deep breathing, so all was well.
"It's not your carpet yet."
"Fair enough. Well, I was right, this photographer really is a pervert." Godric rose easily and walked over to the trolley on the other side of Eric. "As we already knew." The photographer was groaning harder now, gasping, and Eric returned his attention to assuring the man's maximum if momentary pleasure. After all, he'd done his level best to assure theirs.
Author: septemberoses
Fandom: True Blood
Rating: NC17 for porn, dubious consent, toys, games, bondage
Pairing: Godric/Eric
Word count: 2000
Summary: Godric and Eric continue their session with the photographer they met on Godric's birthday. This is a sequel to The Photographer.
Warning: People wanted a sequel to the Photographer, and here is Part 1. I decided to heed the advice of those of you who said to warn up front and then let my freak flag fly. He was breaking out his toys at the end of the last chapter, so this fic is a little more intense, and also somewhat kinkier, although I'm up to my usual shenanigans. No humans were injured in the making of this porn.
They didn't have to wait long for the photographer to re-emerge from the back room of his studio, pushing a metal trolley; as it turned out, he had a fascinating and extensive collection of toys and restraining devices that indicated the true depths of his depravity. Even Eric was impressed.
The first thing that had to be tried out, though, was the old-fashioned whipping stool the photographer had mentioned, and which he obligingly fetched for Eric. Since Godric was already overdue for his spanking, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to put it to good use. But first, Eric decided it was time to trade his silk necktie, which was still binding Godric's wrists behind his back, for something specially constructed for the job at hand. He was lost in the pleasant process of selecting from the array of manacles on display when he heard a separate, quieter set of footsteps, accompanied by a different smell. Eric looked up to find a pretty young man with dark hair and dark eyes now watching them with interest. This was a different man from the one who had been here earlier; Eric judged him about Godric's size, maybe a bit taller.
"This is Christian," the photographer said. "I took the liberty of telephoning him, I hope you don't mind." The boy smiled at them shyly.
"Christian belongs to me," the photographer explained.
"Does he, now?" Eric smiled back, the smile made a little less reassuring by the fangs. "Can we borrow him to play with? We'll return him in good working order."
"Of course. Christian, take your clothes off." And the boy did, stripping down in front of them, his face a little flushed. He had a dancer's body, slender but very strong, as well as a dancer's graceful movements.
"Now undress me," Eric said, and Christian did, removing the rest of Eric's rumpled clothing without a word, carefully folding his trousers and placing them across the back of the chair. Eric was thinking what a nice slave he'd make; the photographer was a lucky man.
"Now undress him," Eric directed, and Christian did the same for Godric, looking a little more uncomfortable this time as he added Godric's clothing to the pile on the chair.
Eric lifted the boy's face and stroked his cheek. He was not so young as he'd first looked - Eric guessed his early twenties, although with humans sometimes it was hard to tell, particularly when they blushed so nicely, as this one did. Eric could feel the heat from Christian's face rising up under his hand, although the boy hadn't quite risen up everywhere else. But after all, they'd just met. The night was still young.
Eric leaned in, sniffing the boy's neck delicately. Christian shivered but did not move otherwise.
"Do you know what I am?"
"Yes."
"And are you afraid?"
"Yes, a little."
Eric slid a thumb along the boy's smooth jawline.
"I won't hurt you … well, not much, and if I do, you'll like it. Now, do you see this lovely, naked creature here in front of you with those striking tattoos? Do you think he's handsome?"
"Yes." And Christian smiled.
"I promised him I'd suck him off after his spanking. But since you're here, you're going to do it for me. We're not quite ready for that yet, though. Here, finish tying him up."
Godric was bent over the tall whipping stool, his feet several inches from the floor and his ankles lashed to the stool's splayed wooden legs, his abdomen cradled in the curved leather seat, his upper body hanging down the other side. His hands were bound behind him by wide leather cuffs that were laced together. He turned his head, a cheerful expression on his face, watching as the boy finished the lacing, then attached the wrist cuffs to a wide strap that ran up Godric's back and hooked to the leather collar around his neck. The boy finished checking the buckles and adjustment straps and tightening them as needed.
"Are you all right?" the boy asked him kindly. "It's not too tight, is it?"
"Oh, no, not at all, it's quite nice, thank you."
Eric was trying to decide between the strap and the small flogger when something unfamiliar caught his eye.
"What's that?" he asked the photographer, who looked up from his camera.
"That's a power box. It provides electrical stimulation."
Eric frowned, examining it.
"How does it work?"
"It's quite simple. You see, you use it with these," the photographer said, gesturing to the trolley, "and these are the pinch leads. These buttons are the control knobs, the power and frequency can be adjusted in several ways."
A slow smile broke on Eric's face as he began to get the full picture.
"That's … disgusting. Does it hurt?"
"Well, no, not at the lower settings. I know it looks a bit grim but it's perfectly safe, and it's quite something. It works wonders on Christian, he's very compliant afterwards."
Eric started to laugh.
"Why don't you give me a demonstration?" He tilted his head in Godric's direction. "On him."
Godric looked at them and blinked.
"Very well." The photographer gestured at the table. "Do you have any … particular…"
"Oh, you pick out something nice for him. You're the expert." And Eric got back to the business of choosing what he was going to use for Godric's whipping.
Eric kept the beating gentle. One, he didn't want to break the whipping stool, which they certainly would if Godric put up a struggle. Two, he felt compelled to watch Godric's reactions as the photographer toyed with the dials on the box in his hand. It seemed to be having quite an effect on Godric.
So eventually Eric handed the strap over to Christian, who was happy to take over the task and seemed to have the knack for it. This left Eric free to squat down in front of the stool so he could study Godric's face. Godric's eyes were closed; he was biting his lip, his brow creased as if he were in a moment of intense concentration.
"How is that?" The photographer's hand moved to adjust a dial. Godric made a strange little sound, moaning without opening his mouth.
"Does it feel peculiar?" A single sharp nod of the head. Godric's face was a study of pleasure and tension. Eric ran his fingertips up and down his maker's back, feeling him shiver.
"Do you want me to tell him to stop?"
"No-please don't--" and the rest of his answer was cut off as the photographer made another carefully calibrated adjustment. Godric let out a gasp and then another long, low moan as he twitched under Eric's fingers. This device was very interesting. Eric made a mental note to ask the photographer where he'd bought it.
Having released Godric from the whipping stool, Eric carried him to the large pillows that Christian had produced. They rested quietly, Godric with his head against Eric's chest, his eyes closed. Eric traced the tattoo on Godric's collarbone, letting his maker collect himself.
After a few minutes, with a glance and a nod from Eric, Christian joined them, resting a hand on Godric's shoulder before kissing him on the cheek. Eric smiled, watching him take the most tender care, as if Godric were fragile and in need of reassurance. The boy moved slowly, planting soft kisses as he traveled down the still, pale body along the way to offering some long-awaited, much desired relief.
The boy was in no great hurry, pausing to run his tongue along the milky-white skin of Godric's inner thighs, shifting Godric's legs apart so that he could kneel between them. Eric ran his hand across Godric's chest, stroking his nipples, as Christian moved his mouth toward his destination, his tongue darting out, his hands cupping, stroking. And not too long thereafter, Godric arched his back, eyes still closed, his mouth seeking Eric's as one hand reached to stroke the boy's soft hair.
Now they had switched places, and Christian writhed beneath them on his back, Eric holding onto his throat quite gently to help keep him still. It was fun to hold humans that way, clearly they found it somewhat alarming even if you weren't squeezing. This one, though, seemed game enough, and they were being careful not to damage him. That was the chief downside of playing with humans, they were so breakable. But Eric had had plenty of practice.
Eric looked down. Godric had been taking his time, enjoying himself, being leisurely about pleasuring the boy with his hands as his mouth explored elsewhere. Now his mouth was pressed against the boy's pale inner thigh, the smell of blood heavy in the air, although no drops escaped. The boy's chest was heaving, his legs twitching violently. Godric's hands pressed his thighs down into the carpet so he wouldn't injure himself thrashing about.
"Are you all right?" asked the photographer, but the boy was far beyond being able to answer at this point, his head rolling from side to side while he groaned.
The photographer stopped taking pictures and looked at Eric anxiously.
"Don't worry, we're not hurting him."
"He looks like he's in pain."
"He's not, trust me." Eric grinned. The lad wouldn't forget this any time soon.
"But are you sure--" the photographer still looked worried.
"Would you like to find out for yourself?" Eric raised his eyebrow. "I'd be happy to show you."
The two humans lay on the floor, naked. Godric had stopped and positioned them next to each other, the right hand of the photographer clasping the left hand of the boy. It made a pretty picture. Godric raised his head from between the boy's legs and looked at Eric, smiling, a small smear of blood next to his mouth. The boy seemed more or less out of it at this point, Godric having toyed with him for about as long as a normal human could endure the pleasure before taking leave of his senses. The photographer was still very much awake, however, his hands stroking his own chest mindlessly while Eric drank small, tender mouthfuls from the wound on his inner thigh, a wound that now matched the boy's. Eric was impressed; the photographer had extraordinary powers of concentration and endurance for a human, so Eric was taking perhaps more than his usual liberties with the man. He thought the extra efforts were deserved and appreciated. He hoped the man had a strong heart; sometimes they dropped dead from the excitement, and that was problematic. But worrying about it wouldn't change anything. He licked at the small, errant drop of blood running down the man's thigh.
"Don't get any of that on my carpet," Godric said. He was sitting up now and watching Eric, one elbow resting on his knee. The boy was played out for the time being, although Eric could hear his strong heartbeat and his deep breathing, so all was well.
"It's not your carpet yet."
"Fair enough. Well, I was right, this photographer really is a pervert." Godric rose easily and walked over to the trolley on the other side of Eric. "As we already knew." The photographer was groaning harder now, gasping, and Eric returned his attention to assuring the man's maximum if momentary pleasure. After all, he'd done his level best to assure theirs.