Death silence. Sounds of only his heavy, labored breaths. Tied to the table,
ankles and wrists. Refuses to cry out. But can’t hold that promise when the hands
begin to touch. So good, these hands, knowing right where to go to make him hard.
Feather-light against his thighs, then travelling up the vein in his cock, giving a
nice squeeze, and rolling his balls between the fingers. So good, so good, always the
best part. He bucks as much as he can into that hand, the hand that likes him,
wants him, only wants to pleasure him. Sobs escape his throat now, but he doesn’t
care. They are sex noises, not pain. He lets his voice go as the hand moves up and
down his shaft, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. So good, so good,
sogoodsogood. His hips rock and the hand moves quicker. He feels the constriction
in his balls, and then he’s coming and coming into the hand with a groan. Waves of
pleasure overthrow the pain from before, as his body loses all ability to move.
Again. Like the day before. Only wished he could see who was doing him. Heavy
black cloth prevented it.
Lips touched his in a kiss. They tasted like peppermint and cloves, just like
they did the day before. He enjoyed it much more than he enjoyed the hand on his
cock. There was something intimate about a kiss that seared the very soul of his
body. He only yearned to know who it was. Guessing, he would say a man, judging
by the expert, large hands and musky smell. But he didn’t much care who it was.
Only that he wanted to be able to repay the favor. Even if he had to give up his
own body, he would freely. And even if this man were so hideous to others, he knew
that all he would see was beauty.
Instead, the large hands untied his wrists and sat him up, only to retie his
wrists behind his back. Then the ankles were untied, and he was lifted from the
table. Easy, steady, easy, steady, until he reached his room. Twenty-seven steps to
his door. Creak signaled opening, and he was pushed inside.
Knew what to do after that. Dropped to his knees and spread them apart a bit,
back facing the door. Felt hands on his wrists again, to reposition his arms. Out to
the side and tied to the wall. Small, claustrophobic room. Good thing he wasn’t
afraid of tight spaces. The hands made a gentle sweep of his neck and trailed down
his spine. He arched and sucked in breath. How he wanted so much more. How he
wanted to give back so much.
“Don’t go,” he whispered. Just like yesterday.
And just like yesterday a kiss was pressed to his shoulder, then footsteps
leaving, and a door slamming.
Lowered his head and tried to forget. The darkness came, but it was after a
while.
***
First time in months its been different. No table today. But the masculine
hands were back, and this time they let him see.
He stared straight, shaking and afraid to see who was with him. The hands
forced him to turn around, and his eyes came across the most beautiful face he had
ever seen. True, it was a man, but it was *his* man. The only person he could ever
hope to be with. And without a word, he closed his eyes and offered up his neck.
The man did not take it. Instead he was turned around facing the back wall of
the room again. His guess was that the other wanted sex. This was not the case
either. Instead, his hands were chained to the ceiling and his ankles bound to the
floor. A thick leather strap caressed his bare flesh.
He trembled, anticipating the pain. He had never been whipped before, and
feared the agony like nothing else. But for this man, his man, the person that he
wanted, the person that he owed everything to, he would take it. Breathing stayed
steady until the swoosh of the leather being brought back reached his ears. There
was no time for him to expel a breath before the first stroke.
The pain was a bright flash running from shoulder diagonal to side. It was
worse than he expected. Teeth clenched, fists turning white, he awaited the second
lash. It came when his breathing regained control, crossing the first. A warm
trickle ran down his skin, over his buttocks and down his leg. Not much blood, but
it would soon get worse. And the pain sent flashes of light over his eyes, eyes that
could now see the walls of his cell.
Again the leather cracked on his skin. Back arched forewords, rattling the
chains that held him in place. He cried out this time, giving in to what he knew the
other wanted. Why else would he whip him so harshly? Tears of pain clouded his
sight, overflowing and rolling down each cheek. They dripped freely from his chin
to mix with the small river of blood on the ground. His blood, to pay for whatever
he owed this man who whipped him.
Leather against his ass, across both cheeks, slicing skin. The warmth took a bit
of the sting away, but not enough to make it bearable. A sob left him, breath heavy
in his chest. Wanted to beg for the pain to end, but didn’t. Shouldn’t be allowed to
make a sound. Should have been gagged during this. Almost began futilely
wishing for the black cloth to fill his mouth. Anything to hide his shameful
whimpers. Anything to prevent him from owning the ability to ask for it to stop.
Another on his ass, crossing the first, licking the top of his thigh. Jerked in the
chains and was rewarded by a quick lash across the back of both thighs. Burning
pain shot up his spine. Made darkness wander across his eyes. Just a few more
and he’d be out for the count.
Two more lashes, both on his back. Breath was hard to take in through the
sobs, as he wept openly. Waited for the next lash, for more pain to be brought, but
that was the end. Saw his man step in front, eyes glowing with desire, flip down
then back to his face. His own eyes were unable to leave his face, no matter how
many tears poured from them. Wished over and over in his mind to be kissed.
Please, please, just kiss me. Kiss me then fuck me.
His wishes were complied. Lips attacked his, and he tried to kiss back even
though he hurt so much it was getting hard to think. Those lips nibbled at his,
then trailed down his neck to his chest. Teeth latched onto a nipple, sending a
fresh wave of pain through his body. He screamed at the assault, noticing how his
body reacted. For this, his cock grew, for the whipping it did not. He just arched
into the other’s mouth and silently hoped the teeth would continue.
The other man did not stop until his nipples were red and bleeding. By then, his
cock was so hard it was beginning to hurt. He tried to buck against the other man,
but nothing happened. Through the pain and arousal, two words formed on his
trembling lips.
“Fuck me.”
And his wishes were again granted. Lubed only with his own blood, the man
shoved a solid erection into him in one fluid motion. It hurt and he screamed, but
his cock did not wilt. And with each thrust the pleasure just got better and better.
He shivered when the cock hit his prostate, sending almost enough sensation to
make him come. And he hadn’t been touched. It amazed him to think that this
man could hold such power over him. Then a hand wrapped around his cock, and
he was coming in flashes of bright, white light and dark, black heat.
He felt the other man’s orgasm, shooting deep inside him, filling him, and he
was glad. No matter how much his back now burned from all spent energy, it was
worth it. To give something back to the man who had been giving his all for the
past few months. Anything for him. Anything.
When the man came around to face him again, he stared into the deep, green
eyes. Eyes that could bind a soul to the ground with one blink. Eyes that hid such
wonder and sadness and depth. No walls this time. Not ever again.
“Alex?”
“Yes, Fox?”
“Are you going to whip me again?”
The man never broke the gaze. “Yes.”
Water filled his eyes again. He let nothing stop it. Tears flowed free from the
eyes that never left the other’s. He now knew that whatever happened in the past
was over. All the darkness and the fingers were gone. Only this. Only Alex. Only
his leather strap cutting into his skin. Only his cock ramming inside him. Only
this perfect pleasure. Only this deserved pain.
“Thank you.”
FIN 2/8/99