CHAPTER 12 #2
I watched his face as I checked the grips, his protruding nipple clamped securely between the small vise, paying close attention to his responses.
“Does it hurt?”
The pretty boy nodded, hissing when I squeezed the right clamp a little tighter.
I was after his pain, but it wasn’t about injuring him.
It took a couple of minutes, but I got the vises where they needed to be, compressing his nipples.
Although the pretty boy made no sound, his teeth were clenched, a signal that he was feeling what I wanted him to feel.
If he wasn’t careful, he would bite that damn key in half.
After retrieving the last item and taking the cock ring key from between his teeth, I reached down and grabbed his dick, stroking firmly.
“Remember what I said about the bell, pretty boy. Don’t let me hear it unless you mean it.”
“Yes, Zeke.”
“Anything I should know before I add this?” I asked, holding up the ball gag. “Any adjustments I need to make?”
“No, Zeke.” His chest was expanding rapidly, his cock hard between my fist.
“Very good.”
After pressing the ball into his mouth and connecting the strap behind his head, I used the key to screw the metal thorns through the cock ring, allowing him to feel the pressure of the spiked points. He hissed, his cock growing harder with every turn of the screw until he was moaning softly.
When I stood, I checked him one more time, observing his breaths, his eyes, the way his hands dangled from the manacles.
He appeared content, and that meant it was time to take care of the cowboy.
Case (the pretty boy)
Zeke Lautner was a very creative man, but I’d known that before he had invited me to his house to be his personal fuck toy and put a collar around my neck to prove ownership. I’d seen him in the club, attempted to get his attention a time or two, even.
However, I hadn’t expected this.
When I agreed to what he wanted, signed a contract that offered myself up freely to this man, part of me figured we’d be spending quite a bit of time at Dichotomy. It seemed he was there often, so I figured that was where he chose to play.
I was wrong.
I wouldn’t say I was disappointed, either. I liked the idea of playing at home, not saving that experience for an audience. It meant I would always be wondering what he had in store for us next.
The instant I stepped into his basement, I knew he had something devious cooked up for me and Brax.
Granted, I hadn’t known what, and I hadn’t considered being manacled to the wall with a torture device circling just below the head of my dick, vise clamps of hell on my nipples, or this fucking gag in my mouth.
It was heaven. Perhaps that made me sound warped and twisted, but that was exactly what I was.
If I were to get in a room with a therapist, I was sure she could pinpoint the exact reason I was the way I was.
I couldn’t deny one particular experience in my life had pushed me toward this path.
I tried not to think about it because it was something that never should’ve happened.
However, it had irrevocably changed me. I’d long ago stopped making excuses for who I was.
I had no desire to change, and that meant I had to embrace the man I’d become.
Zeke was going to be the one man who could possibly wipe everything away and give me something else to focus on. Unlike before, I was a willing participant. Eager and willing to see just how far he would push.
And he hadn’t wasted any time either. In fact, I got the feeling he’d gone easy on us last night by allowing us to sleep in regular beds.
The man who had restrained me to the wall had lost that subtle softness he’d allowed a glimpse of last night.
In its place, the ruthless Sadist I’d been obsessing about lately.
Oddly enough, I had woken up with the feeling that I was out of my league.
That probably had a lot to do with the rules and protocols Zeke had the two of us sign late last night—or rather, early this morning.
Anyway. It was an amendment to the contract we’d signed at the club.
Zeke had presented the rules to us after we ate one of Brax’s phenomenal meals, laying it on the table with the instruction for us to read every word before signing.
I had. It was more hard-core than I’d anticipated, cementing Zeke’s promise that we would have no limits and no say.
For lack of a better term, we were officially his slaves.
After I’d signed the form and handed it over to Zeke, he had insisted I go up to my new room and sleep.
I’d spent the night in a strange bed, and for the first time in a very long time, Brax hadn’t been beside me.
I hadn’t cared much for that part, but I understood it.
Didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about sneaking into Brax’s room and crawling into bed with him.
I had refrained because before we went our separate ways last night, Brax had kissed me thoroughly and said he was looking forward to seeing this through, to enduring whatever Zeke had in store for us.
No way could I deny the man I loved an experience like this.
But I was no martyr. We all knew I wasn’t only doing this for Brax’s benefit.
After the scene at the club last night and the time I’d spent in Zeke’s shower, I was looking forward to what he had in store for us.
And based on this setup, Zeke had something wickedly kinky in mind.
I got the feeling the restraints and various torture jewelry he’d applied to my body were nothing compared to the show he was about to put on.
“This, cowboy, is for you,” Zeke said, patting the top of the vinyl-covered spanking bench.
I’d seen plenty of these in my day, having been strapped down to a number of them.
This one, though, was top-of-the-line and appeared to be crafted for endurance.
I’d even go so far as to say Zeke had this one built specifically with himself in mind.
Based on the height, once Brax was in position, his ass would be at the perfect height for Zeke to fuck him if he so chose.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it, either.
I’d watched Brax scene before, but I had never witnessed another man fucking him.
The idea had both curiosity and concern warring inside me.
That was what was known as a mind fuck.
For me, of course. Not necessarily Brax. He would be at Zeke’s mercy once he was strapped down, which would be a mind fuck of its own. I, however, would be forced to watch whatever it was Zeke decided to do to him.
With a swift go-ahead motion, Zeke urged Brax up onto the bench.
He got into position on all fours, his chest lying flat on the vinyl-padded center, his hands and knees supported on padded bars that ran the length of it.
The lower half of his body was at the end of the padded center, his cock hanging down, his ass tilted slightly upward.
“Get comfortable,” Zeke said with a devious snarl. “You’re gonna be here a while.”
Brax shifted a couple of times, and the moment he stilled, Zeke went to work strapping him down.
His wrists were cuffed so his hands wouldn’t move, two straps were pulled over his back—one over his shoulder blades, the other right above his ass—and tightly secured so he couldn’t lift up his chest. His calves were then banded to the bench beneath his knees and then his ankles, keeping his legs firmly in place.
And finally, Zeke hooked something to Brax’s collar, which kept him from moving his head to the side.
He was forced to look forward, unable to see what Zeke would be doing to him.
From my position on the wall, I had a perfect view of Brax’s ass, which was pointed upward as though in offering.
I’d fucked that ass many, many times, and I would never tire of seeing him in that position.
His thick cock and heavy balls hung down, completely vulnerable to Zeke’s devious intentions.
“I went easy on you at the club last night, cowboy,” Zeke told him as he walked around, admiring his handiwork. “You’re not gonna be so lucky this go-round.”
I couldn’t see Brax’s face, but I could tell by the relaxed position of his body, he was okay with that.
Zeke disappeared into that closet once more, and when he returned, he was carrying a silicone paddle and a ball gag. He paused at the door, then reached over and turned up the music. It was loud, but not so loud that we wouldn’t hear Zeke talking.
He laid the paddle across Brax’s back, then went to work fixing the gag into his mouth.
It was a constant reminder of the gag I currently had stuffed in my mouth.
I could moan and groan all I wanted, but it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.
Aside from that, I was pretty much limited to drooling, and the more I tried to say something, the more I would. Not a pretty sight.
I was effectively trussed up with no means of escape. And the thought alone made my dick hard. Something I was completely aware of since I could feel the pinprick of those steel screws poking into my dick. It wasn’t unpleasant—yet—which, again, was a testament to how warped and twisted I was.
Zeke squatted in front of Brax and held up a bell similar to the one he had put in my hand. “There are no safe words. So, unless you are bleeding or a bone is breaking, you better not use this.” Zeke’s smile was pure evil. “Considering your mouth is full, this is the only way I’ll know.”
After tucking the bell into Brax’s hand, he stood and moved behind him. He took the silicone paddle and turned to face me. The man didn’t say anything, but I could tell he wanted me to be fully aware of what he was about to do. He smirked, then turned his attention back to Brax.
I found myself holding my breath when Zeke set the paddle on the small of Brax’s back before kneading his ass firmly. He pinched and grabbed his flesh, plumping it. The circulation would be stimulated, which would make that damn paddle feel like the devil himself had taken to his ass.
Zeke picked up the paddle again and stepped to the side before rearing back and landing it firmly on Brax’s ass.
Brax cried out—the sound muffled by the gag—his body jerking.
Zeke swatted him several more times. The music pulsing in the room added to the intensity.
It wasn’t loud, but it was effective. By no means did it block out the sound of that silicone slapping against Brax’s firm ass.
After several swats, Zeke reached between Brax’s legs and fisted his cock.
“I take it you enjoy having your ass beat,” he said, pumping Brax’s dick a few times before landing several more swats. He continued this for several minutes until Brax was effectively squirming, moaning unintelligible things through the gag in his mouth.
“I do like how red your ass gets, cowboy.” Zeke slapped him again and again.
He wasn’t pulling any punches as he shifted and moved so as not to focus on the same spot.
By warning Brax that he wouldn’t go easy, it was as though Zeke had all the permission he needed.
Then again, he did because Brax and I had given it to him unconditionally.
After several minutes of turning his ass a bright shade of red, Zeke set the paddle down and retrieved a rubber glove. He pulled it onto his left hand, then resumed using the paddle again. A minute later, he paused once more, generously lubricating the fingers of his gloved hand.
“Let’s see just how tight this asshole is,” Zeke prompted before pushing one lubed finger into Brax’s ass.
My cock jerked and swelled, drawing a ragged moan from me as the spikes pressed into the sensitive nerves under the head of my cock.
Zeke turned to look at me, another vicious smirk on his face.
He shifted positions so I could see everything he was doing to Brax.
The way he began fucking him with one finger, then two, had Brax and me both groaning.
It wasn’t long before Zeke was scissoring his fingers, stretching Brax’s asshole, and he wasn’t gentle about it.
He pounded his hand against Brax, thrusting those big digits in deep.
“It’s not enough, is it?” Zeke asked, turning his attention to Brax.
Brax moaned something no one could understand, but I could hear the plea in his tone. He wanted more.
Hell, I wanted more.
“You like this, pretty boy?”
I cut my eyes over to Zeke.
“You like watching me fuck his ass with my fingers? You want to see my cock shoved in there? Giving him the sort of pleasure you’ll never be capable of giving him?”
I shook my head, although part of me did want to see it. The logical side of my brain said no because Brax belonged to me. He was mine in every way that mattered. The idea of Zeke claiming him had my insides coiling tighter.
“It’s killing you, isn’t it?” Zeke taunted. “The idea of me impaling his ass, shoving my dick so deep his thoughts of you are replaced with me. When he cries out in his mind, it’s my name he screams. Not yours.”
Oh, fuck. My cock jerked. The humiliation in those words ran deep, but they were effective.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Zeke shifted once more, his fingers still buried in Brax’s ass. He moved so he could pick up the paddle. And while he thrust roughly into Brax’s ass, he began paddling his flesh in earnest.
By the time Zeke yanked his fingers from Brax’s asshole and stripped off the glove, I was sweating, my body rock hard.
Zeke produced a condom from his pocket, and a minute later, he had stripped his own jeans off, sheathed that enormous cock, and lubed himself up.
“Watch closely, pretty boy. Watch while I use him and abuse him. I guarantee, this’ll be the best fucking he’s ever had. The next time you fuck him, he’s going to be screaming my name because I’ll be etched in his memory forever.”
Brax moaned when Zeke aligned the head of his cock with his ass. Without preamble, Zeke shoved in deep, stopping when he was lodged to the root. Brax’s head moved back and forth the small amount he was allowed as he cried out. But not once did he use that bell. He was loving this as much as I was.
Fuck him. Pound his ass.
Those were the words screaming in my head as Zeke stood motionless, his hands kneading Brax’s blistered ass as he spread his cheeks apart. He pulled out slowly, seemingly fixated on his glistening cock as it retreated, allowing those muscles to tighten before he pushed in again.
It was a damn good thing I was restrained. Otherwise, I would’ve been jacking my cock to the rhythm of Zeke’s thrusts.
For a fraction of a second, I might’ve even been a tad jealous that it wasn’t my ass Zeke was ramming his big dick into.