Best Gay Bondage Erotica, page 11
As I sucked on the treat, strong hands stroked my buttocks. The ghost of my father booming condemnation, I tried to hunch forward, but my straps held. The hands did not leave my buttocks, but caressed them more earnestly. Strangely, these caresses aroused me in a new and exciting way, and my father’s ghost fled. My mind whirled with images of mating stags. I had once witnessed a male hart mount another male, penetrate his fellow anally, and hump him as he would a female. The male receiving the penetration did not resist—rather he behaved as if he enjoyed it.
As I sucked on the object sliding in and out of my mouth, I felt it stiffen and grow even harder. It throbbed atop my tongue; then it gave a sudden spasm and a copious amount of ambrosial nectar filled my mouth. Only after I had swallowed did the kaleidoscopically colored clouds swirling through my consciousness abruptly part so that I knew what I had done. I had sucked on the sexual rod of an acolyte, and I had drunk of his seed.
As the spent rod was drawn past my lips, the hands caressing my buttocks explored into my cleft. I wiggled my rump, deceiving myself that I was trying to escape violation, but down deep an inner voice hailed rapture. In my father’s village, men were tossed over the precipice for such behavior. Still, I assured myself that I was blameless, being bound and masked, a captive, a stranger, a chattel to be bought, sold, and used by this or that will. Yet again the deep down inner voice spoke true—I was reveling in my ravishment, and the pagan mask, and the bonds, and the ritual narcotic I had so readily drunk were not responsible for the wanton lusts that rose from my own nature.
I wiggled my buttocks again in knowing invitation. “Take me,” I spoke aloud the words that filled my mind unbidden. Perhaps the priest was whispering them into my ear as I spoke, but I could not be certain. “Fill me. I offer my haunches to the Great Goddess Lilith. My rump shall henceforth be a fissure to satisfy the cravings of men to the glory of Lilith. My mouth shall henceforth be a hole to gratify the lusts of men to the bliss of Lilith. This I swear—forever.”
“Receive the cleft stick.” Hands parted my buttocks and I felt a small object inserted therein, a finger, perhaps, or some pleasure device. I opened easily for it, quite easily, for I heard snickers. I was too eager, and my zest amused the congregation.
“When I am high priest, I shall take men as they now do me,” I muttered just before a second rod of flesh pushed into my mouth. Fighting my bonds, I feigned resistance, but even in feigning, I sucked. The bewitching cleft stick popped out of my hole, carving ripples of titillation through my whole being. Was it only the powerful drug producing my fascinating sensations, my disorder of senses, and my erotic hallucinations? Wild shifting colors swept across my masked eyes, and the masculine fluids I had consumed suffused the atmosphere with enticing scents and tastes. The mask rippled against my flesh so that my lips felt stung and swollen around the thick rod.
“Prepare, Kareah, you must submit to the priestly rod,” a voice intoned.
Lilith must have smiled upon me; I could not speak above a moan of assent; else, I would have shouted, “Take me, bind me, lash me, use me as your dog.”
The second rod exploded with seed in my mouth. Though I swallowed heartily, it withdrew and decorated my face within the dog mask. As the elixir of creation slid down my throat, a fresh insight made me shudder. The thoughts of the previous moment had not been my own; the drugged wine had caused my illusion of empowerment. The bonds holding me abruptly grew tighter, and my abject helplessness overwhelmed me. I was only a captive, a slave—my body was not my own—my private places were not my own. Any man could enter me or abuse me as he willed, and I was powerless.
A cry escaped me and I thrashed within my bonds. As I struggled, I felt a thick rod pushing against my anal cleft. “Kareah, your delivery has come, whore of Lilith,” intoned the speaker. “Look now upon your brotherhood.”
I moaned with yearning trepidation as the acolytes pulled the mask from my head, and I witnessed the congregation indulging in a frenzied orgy. The flames rising before the statues revealed men plugged into the crevices of other men, thrusting, grunting, howling praises to the painted image of Lilith upon the wall, and collapsing after blasting their seed into the bowels of their targets. The lurid walls threw up images of male submission to the power of the unimaginable invaders. I knew then that I would never rise to become one of those exalted beings who live to penetrate: I was ordained to be a mere acolyte, one of the penetrated, my flesh serving only to fulfill, to absorb, to provide a hole for the covetousness, privilege, frustration, and lunacy of men—for as long as I should live.
With that revelation reverberating wildly through my consciousness, I felt the rod of my duty pushing into my rear hole. I opened wider and wider, and as the thickness slid into me, a rapturous ecstasy followed. A deep, rich sensation rippled up my fissure as the rod of the priest drove deeper, those nectar-enhanced hallucinations of touch escalating my groaning pleasure.
As the priest’s loins at last crushed my rounded buttocks, a deep series of thrills rippled through my crevice. Continuing beyond imagining, the ripples turned into dark waves of delight so that my own stiff, tormented member bucked against the stone altar, and I blasted my seed. Drugged and bound, I shook with wild spasms as my anal hole performed its duty. I wriggled upon the hard and thick member—obediently—submissively—like the seed-hole of the disturbing goddess I had just become.
Day 986
Straps of hide bound me, my forearms to my thighs, while the fastenings around my elbows tied me to the priest Melchizedek behind me. As an acolyte of the lesser orders of the Enaeriae, it was my function and obligation to skewer my fissure upon Melchizedek’s masculine stiffness and to provide a holy receptacle for his mannish moisture. At the rising of the Dog Star, worshippers had assembled even from Zoar and from beyond the Slime-Pits in the Vale of Siddim to watch us present the ritual of the Owl-Goddess.
The torches were burning high, illuminating the lurid walls, which seemed to shift and writhe, a chimera associated with the sacred drink we consumed. The close, hot atmosphere was rich with the sacred smoke, scented and heady, and the drummers had been pounding their instruments for hours until the heartbeat of the congregation had become one with the frenzied pulses of we who must complete the divine orgy.
The coarse members of the four statues had been painted red, and dripped with suggestive white fluid. The illustrated walls told a tale of plunging priests taking squirming acolytes in the mouth or in the cleft, goat-shaped hairy dwarves rutting twisting initiates, and great owl demons thrusting into the willing and the unwilling alike. Finally, dominating the scene, head tossed back and lips curled in the throes of orgasmic rapture, lolled the Great Whore of the Cosmos, taking pleasure from the sexually frenzied thrusting of priests and the bound wriggling of acolytes. Thus tied in front of my priest, bent, hunched, impaled upon his rod, my thoughts rampant with hallucinations of sight, sound, taste, touch, and scent, I, Kareah, writhed upon the priestly flesh that drove my own hard rod into sexual transport and reveled as I received the seed of Melchizedek in homage to the Eternal Mysteries.
BOUND BY LOVE
William Holden
I awoke with a start. Jake was sitting on the edge of my bed, once again watching me. His eyes never left mine. He wore a pair of latex shorts and nothing else. His stomach and chest were covered in a thick blanket of dark curly hair. A tiny dumbbell pierced his left nipple. My cock responded with a twitch. His dark, green eyes glowed in the dimly lit room. My visual tour of his body stopped at the sight of a most incredible bulge building in his crotch, straining against the tight latex. He rubbed my left leg. His touch excited me as nothing had in a very long time.
Without so much as a word, he brought my left foot from underneath the covers. First he massaged it. Then he raised my foot to his face and sucked each toe, one at a time. His hand moved farther up my leg. My cock was swelling, wanting to be touched and caressed. I started to speak, but he quickly moved his hand to my mouth to stop me.
“Don’t say anything, not a word.” He leaned forward and buried his tongue deep in my mouth. I could taste my own skin on his tongue.
He pushed his body on top of mine. His hardness pressed deep into my groin. I wanted to touch his body, to explore mysteries I hadn’t yet uncovered, but his hands held mine in place. He was heavy against me.
Cold metal snapped against one wrist, then the other. Blood rushed to my heart. Jake shifted his body down my legs. I kicked, but not enough for him to notice. He sat on my left leg and placed a leather restraint on my right ankle, then reversed his position. I was helpless. My cock throbbed. I was as sexually charged as I had ever been.
“There, that’s better. Don’t you agree?” A curious smile crept across Jake’s face. “I know this is what you’ve been wanting. I could see it in your eyes the last few times we had sex.” He traced the edge of my cock with his finger, sending shocks of electricity through my body. “Why didn’t you say anything? You know I’d do anything for you.”
The drawer to the nightstand was half-open. He reached for a blindfold and a ball gag. He fit the gag on me quickly, expertly. My eyes pleaded with him to stop, then I could not see. I heard him leave.
Time crawled. Damp with my own sweat, the blindfold pressed into my eyes, blue and purple dots danced in my darkened vision. My cock was aching with sexual tension. I wanted desperately to touch it for release. But Jake knew, probably better then I did, what I really wanted. He was controlling my every move. The loss of any sense of time and space played games with my mind. I was sure he was standing next to me. Could I hear him breathe? I waited for his touch. I trembled with anticipation and fear—but no one was there. I wanted Jake more than ever. I needed desperately to be touched, anything but to be left alone.
I have no idea how long I was alone, maybe as little as thirty minutes, as long as several hours. Finally I heard footsteps, real ones. The bedroom door creaked opened. I heard noises so familiar…but in this situation, so foreign. Then, an odor, tantalizingly familiar. What was it? Sulfur. He was striking a match. Panic seized me. I pulled on the straps binding me to his bed.
The blindfold was pulled off. Jake stood next to me—naked, his stiff cock jutting from the dense patch of his black pubic hair. A thick layer of foreskin, already slick with his precum, covered the head of his cock. A candle flickered on the nightstand. Jake sat next to me.
“You know, I’ve never understood what you see in Gary. Don’t get me wrong, I love my little brother. But, honestly, he’s so severe in his belief that sex should be nothing but beautiful and gentle.” He patted my cheek, lightly. “You and I both know how sex should be. That’s why you started this affair with me, right?” He gazed at me, as if awaiting an answer, indifferent to the gag still firmly set in my mouth. “Well, not to worry. If I have to take a second seat to Gary, at least I can be seated there with you.”
I watched as he moved over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of scissors. I was light-headed from fear, from the rush of blood through my body. He walked back to the bed. “Perhaps if Gary saw you differently, things might change for the two of you.” Jake took the scissors and began to cut my shirt, starting from the bottom. My body trembled with each brush of the cold metal blades. He snipped slowly and carefully toward my neck-line. With my chest partially exposed, he brought his face closer. He licked my nipples, starting with the left, first caressing and then biting it. He shifted to the right. I shivered as his teeth nipped my skin. The scissors began their assault on the sleeves. Before long my shirt lay in pieces on the floor.
Jake stretched out next to me, pressed his wet cock against my leg, and, slowly thrusting his hips, fucked my leg. His tongue washed my sweaty armpits. He moaned with pleasure. He stroked my naked torso with the cold scissors. Jake was lost in his own world. The edge of one of the blades grazed my right nipple. The pain was instant. The gag blunted my attempt to yell out his name. The scissors came to rest on the waistband of my briefs. I was mad with desire. I wanted him, but couldn’t have him. He wasn’t allowing me that privilege.
The blades started again, cutting into my briefs. They slowly moved down my crotch, cutting into the white cotton. My swollen balls contracted at their cold, steely touch. With my underwear gone, Jake tossed the scissors aside and made his way to my dick. His mouth was warm. His tongue fondled bulging veins. I moaned, thrusting my cock into his mouth, my orgasm building.
He pulled my dick from his mouth. I shivered in the cool air as his spit ran down the shaft. He lowered himself to my balls and chewed on the skin, almost as if it were gum. His large hands covered my ass, gripped buttcheeks, squeezed. His fingernails dug into my skin. He raised my body off the sheets, just enough to allow his tongue access to my tight, pink hole. I gripped the headboard, my muscles stretched to their limit, tensing even more as his tongue slipped into my ass, fucking me with its wet strength, deep inside of me, before withdrawing to move up my torso, licking precum that had oozed from my cock—where a hot load of cum was building—and the sweat from my body. He removed the gag and kissed me, giving back my fluids mingled with his own saliva. He sat on my chest, his enormous cock gripped in his hand. He rubbed his wet foreskin across my lips.
“Now it’s time to get you ready.” He lifted himself off and left the room. I called for him. No reply. My arms ached as my muscles tightened even more from wrestling against the restraints that were stretching me. My hard cock lay motionless against my stomach, the veins a deep purple from their frustrated workout. My balls felt as if they were in a vise. When Jake reappeared, he held a leather pouch.
“Gary’s told me how much he loves your hairy body.” He laughed briefly. “You know, it’s odd. For years Gary has talked to me about your sex life. How amazing it is and how much you both get into each other. I believed him, I had no reason not to, but I never saw you as the plain Jane of the bedroom. There was always a hidden passion in your eyes. I was right the entire time. You weren’t sexually happy with my little brother. How could you be?”
It was true. Every word. And it took being bound to Jake’s bed for me to realize it. I would always love Gary. Nothing would ever change that. But it was Jake that I desired sexually. They were complete opposites. Jake worked out and had the most amazing sculpted body. His black hair was shoulder length and dusted with gray. There was a masculine quality to him, that drove me crazy, a quality that Gary, the slim, hairless brother, would never possess.
As I lay there, comparing the two brothers, Jake unzipped the pouch. He brought out a small can of shaving cream, a smaller pair of scissors, and a straight razor. He laid them out on the bed methodically. He left the room once again, and returned with a small basin of water and a damp cloth. He wiped down my armpits and smeared them with a dab of shaving cream. I trembled as the straight razor made its way across each pit, clearing the thick hair. The exposed skin burned.
Once my armpits were hairless, Jake made his way to my chest. He washed every inch of my torso with the warm washcloth, and rubbed in the mint-scented shaving cream. I already missed my body hair; I had always enjoyed how Gary played with it, how it was soaked after sweaty sex. I was angry with Jake. I wanted to scream at him to stop. Except that my cock was responding with every stroke of the blade.
With my chest bared, he turned with the small scissors to my dark bush of pubic hair, trimming carefully and patiently. The look on his face was pure concentration and pleasure. The muscles around my ass contracted when his attention turned to my hairy crack. Before long my body was hairless, nothing left but skin reddened by the razor’s edge.
Jake looked up at me, obviously pleased with his own work. “That’s much better. Don’t worry about the red spots. They’ll disappear soon enough.” His eyes were gleaming with lust. He sat for a few moments, running his eyes over my body, nodding in approval. Then he straddled me. The hair on his balls chafed my tender skin. His foreskin was wet with precum. He smiled as he reached behind him, found my cock and began to squeeze it. His grip became stronger, bringing tears to my eyes. My cockhead swelled. He rubbed the head of my cock over his hole. With one downward plunge, his tight, hairy ass swallowed my cock. He sat with a look of triumph on his face. He reached toward the nightstand and grabbed the candle. With the candle in one hand and his own cock in his other, he began to ride my shaft.
The feel of him was incredible. He tightened his ass muscles around my cock and pumped harder. My balls throbbed as he pounded my cock. But I kept my eyes on that candle. It began to tip. A drop of hot wax beaded up on the rim. Then the first drop hit my right nipple, a shock wave of pain and pleasure. As the wax hardened, my nipple pulled tight. The next drop splashed onto my left nipple. He rode me deeper. The third drop singed my stomach—and I lost my load inside him. He moaned with pleasure as wave after wave flooded his ass. Within seconds I felt the hot rush of his cum on my face. I licked what I could off my lips; the rest ran down my cheeks. A second round of his hot liquid covered my chest. He collapsed onto me, his weight forcing out what little breath I had left.
I was in the bathroom, surveying my hairless body. My cock lengthened as I thought of Jake and our morning together. Gary called to me from our bed. My stomach knotted as I thought about him lying there waiting for me. How was I going to explain this? I slipped on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, my vain attempt at covering up. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and stepped out of the bathroom.
Gary was in bed, the sheets pulled up to his hips. The edge of his pubic hair poked out from the material; his cock hidden just beneath was erect. I walked to my side of the bed and crawled in.
“Why are you wearing those clothes?” He scooted closer to me.
“I’m a little cold.” I turned my head to kiss him good night and rolled over on my side. He moved his body next to mine. His cock pressed into the crack of my ass. He felt warm. His hand reached around my torso and pulled me closer. He kissed the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and thought of his brother. I prayed he wouldn’t touch my hairless skin as his hand moved down my chest. His fingers played with the edge of my T-shirt. His hand moved under the material. He stopped, sat up in bed and looked at me. He grabbed my shirt and pulled it up. He was emotionless as he looked at my body.
