Part Eleven Fragile – Handle with Care
Please show me what you would be doing with me if you thought I could handle anything and everything you are into, sir.
Scott had been aware that his latest request could lead damn near anywhere; but, while he was on the back of Joe’s bike and had his arms wrapped tightly around Joe’s waist, the destination didn’t seem important.
Being pressed up against Joe’s back, the vibrations of the bike, the smell of leather, and even the sound of the hulking great engine, all went straight to Scott’s cock. But, even more than that, they went to the part of Scott’s mind that was labelled Joe in big shiny chrome letters.
Joe.
Scott smiled wryly in the privacy of his helmet.
He didn’t smoke. He drank very little. He’d never taken a drug stronger than aspirin.
Yet somehow he’d still managed to fall down a rabbit hole and become an addict.
He might have more survival instinct than to fall in love with Joe, but he was definitely addicted to Joe; and he trembled like a junkie who’d gone too long without a fix.
In real-world time, it hadn’t been long since he visited the sauna. The bruise around his wrist had only just faded away. But, in the timescale of addiction, it had still been far too long.
Scott tightened his grip around Joe. He had no idea how far they’d ridden. He’d had his eyes closed most of the time, simply clinging to Joe’s back and enjoying being so close to him. By the time Joe brought the bike to a halt and killed the engine, they could have been anywhere.
Scott opened his eyes. If anything, the world got darker. They were in an alleyway. There were no street lights. The moon was out, but it only provided enough light to see the larger obstacles.
Joe got off the bike and moved confidently around as if one of his many superpowers was better night vision than a predatory big cat. Scott moved more like a new born herbivore who had yet to work out how to operate his knees, or realise that big cats were dangerous.
The second time Scott cursed himself and whatever the hell he’d just tripped over, he sensed Joe turn his attention toward him. Unnecessary apologies were wrong. Scott got that. Unfortunately, he still didn’t have a clue how to work out which times counted as necessary.
He was still trying to work it out when Joe slid his arms around his waist. Scott tilted his head back, more than happy to be kissed anywhere, anytime, but Joe bent down, put his shoulder to Scott’s crotch, and tossed Scott unceremoniously over his shoulder.
Scott screamed. He wished there was a more dignified word for it, but was well aware that the sound he’d let out was very definitely a scream. And to think that he’d thought it would be embarrassing if he’d tripped over…
Being upside down didn’t make it any easier for Scott to get his bearings. He was aware of Joe walking a little way down the alley, then opening a door and carrying him inside a building.
Joe set Scott back on his feet. A second later, blinding white light filled the world. Scott covered his eyes. Several seconds passed before he managed to adjust his vision and blink at his surroundings.
“Well?” Joe prompted.
Scott turned to him. Joe was leaning against the wall just inside the door with his lips twisted into a smirk.
“I…” Scott cleared his throat. He looked around again. He’d never realised that so many types of bondage furniture existed. “I g-g-guess we don’t need to w-worry anyone phoned the p-p-police when they heard me s-s-scream. P-people who live around here, m-must be used to it.”
Joe laughed, light and carefree. “Good boy. Good answer. Now, strip.”
Scott was so tempted to look around and check that they were the only ones there, but he managed not to. It wasn’t as if he’d ever seriously objected to Joe telling him to get naked in front of strangers anyway.
He took off his clothes with as much coordination as he could pull together while Joe was just standing there, fully dressed, watching him. The look in Joe’s eyes didn’t help Scott redirect any blood from his erection toward his brain.
“Give me your clothes.”
Completely nude now, Scott handed all his clothes to Joe.
“Stay there.”
Without another word, Joe disappeared through a door to their left. Scott no longer had anything to distract him from the equipment visible from his position just inside the door.
He could recognise some of it from the internet. Others were familiar from films set in the medieval period. Stocks. Pillories. Racks. A human-shaped cage hung from the ceiling. Scott frowned, sure he’d heard what one was called in an old movie, but unable to recall the term.
Because that was the real problem—not that he was faced with a dozen different set-ups that were all a million miles out of his comfort zone; but that he lacked a complete vocabulary of historical torture devices.
“See anything you like?”
Scott spun around to face Joe.
Joe looked him up and down, his gaze finally settling on Scott’s erection. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t find anything so scary it isn’t still hot.”
Scott blushed. If he hadn’t felt the heat in his cheeks, he would have known from the way Joe’s smile gentled.
“It’s a pity, really,” Joe said, his expression becoming rueful.
“P-p-pity?” Scott asked. He considered their location and added; “s-sir?”
“The first thing you’d have already tried out by now, if you were more experienced when we first met, is a cage.”
Scott looked over his shoulder at the cage hanging from the ceiling.
“Think smaller,” Joe ordered.
Scott turned back to face Joe, still completely confused. Holding out his hand, Joe showed him a much smaller cage. It was made from shiny silver metal. The bars were curved and shaped like a flaccid cock.
Scott stared at it, somewhere between horror and fascination.
“If you found the idea less erotic, this bit wouldn’t be necessary.”
Before Scott could ask what that meant, Joe took his other hand from behind his back and put a bag of crushed ice directly on Scott’s crotch.
Pain shot through Scott. His erection died. His entire package tried to retreat inside his body. But, it still never occurred to Scott to step back and try to escape whatever sensations Joe was willing to offer him.
“Good boy.”
Scott gasped in relief as Joe finally took the ice bag away.
Suddenly, Joe dropped to his knees in front of Scott.
Still not entirely up to date on current events, Scott’s cock instantly tried to rise to an occasion that might include a blowjob, but the ice had done its job well. Joe had no problem tugging his balls through a small metal ring, or fitting the metal cage over his soft shaft.
Scott whimpered as Joe slid a lock into place and clicked it shut.
Joe sat back on his heels.
“It’s good that you’ve remembered to keep yourself shaved.
It hurts like hell if a pube gets caught in the cage—or so I’ve been told.
” Their gaze met. Even with Joe on his knees before him, Scott had never been more aware that Joe was the kind of man who took control of other guys’ cocks, and not someone who would ever end up in a chastity cage himself.
Joe straightened up. “How does it feel?”
“Ok-k-kay.”
Joe raised an eyebrow.
“A b-bit heavy, but ok-kay, s-sir.”
Joe stood up. “It will make sure you get through the tour without coming without permission. Its main purpose is to help you obey that order.”
Scott nodded.
“Its other purpose is to look as hot as hell.”
Scott took a deep breath and let it out very slowly.
“When the tour is over, I’ll take it off and let you come.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“If you’re very good, I might not lock it back on you before I take you home tonight.”
Scott met Joe’s eyes. It was impossible to tell if he was teasing, or if he really was considering making him stay in chastity until their next date. Against all logic, the idea made Scott’s cock try to get hard inside the cage.
“Come on.” Joe held out his hand to Scott.
Taking his hand, Scott walked forward at Joe’s side. Each step reminded him of the cage around his cock. Each movement seemed to tug gently at the top of his shaft and, as the effect of the ice faded away, his cock responded by swelling and starting to harden.
“What do you think?” Joe asked, as he brought them to a stop next to a spanking bench padded in deep red leather.
“I l-loved it w-when you spanked me before, s-sir,” Scott offered.
“Yes, but that was with my bare hand. Now, it’s time to try something new. Pick a number between one and ten.”
An order was an order, even if it didn’t make much sense. “F-five?” Scott hazarded, at random.
Joe pointed to the wall alongside the bench. There was a cabinet there with lots of differently shaped and sized doors—each one numbered. “Go and see what you’ve picked.”
Scott cautiously approached the cabinets. The doors weren’t in number order. It took him a few moments to find number five. The door was tall and narrow. Scott opened it and took out a crop. The tip was cut into the shape of a butterfly, which seemed like a very un-Joe-like thing.
“Not a bad choice,” Joe said.
It felt odd in Scott’s hands, as if a deep instinctive part of him knew that he wasn’t someone who should be wielding it. It belonged in the hands of a dom. Scott quickly carried the crop across to Joe, but hesitated a step away from him.
It seemed wrong to just hand the thing over as if it was no more interesting than a sandwich. Scott knelt down, resting the crop on both of his palms, and offered it to Joe, in rough imitation of pictures he’d seen on the internet.
“Good boy.” Joe reached past the crop and stroked Scott’s cheek. He brushed his thumb against Scott’s lips before casually penetrating his mouth with it. “So good.” He picked up the crop with his free hand, but didn’t rush to take his thumb out of Scott’s mouth.
Scott’s shaft strained against the bars of his cage. His mouth watered in the hope that Joe would offer him his cock to suck on next, but Joe helped him up off his knees instead.