Best Gay Bondage Erotica, page 4
I cleared my throat, which caused him to glance up at me. “I…I was wondering,” I managed. “Are you…ah, going to the top floor?”
“Yeah, I am. What’s it to ya?”
“Ah…I think I was…with you last night.”
He stared at me, then, a blank look at first, followed by a crooked grin. “Telescope?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on,” he said, motioning me into the elevator. “I thought I recognized you,” he added as the slatted door creaked shut. “I’m Roy,” he told me.
“I’m Alex,” I replied
After these brief introductions we rode up in silence. I’m sure my face burned red with embarrassment, imagining how much of my secret world he must have observed. When we reached the top floor and the elevator jolted to a stop, he motioned me back as the gate swung open. He took off his glasses and started to strip. “If you want to come in, you have to be naked. Only the Master wears clothes in the workshop.”
I hesitated to follow his lead, although he was completely stripped in a matter of seconds, naked except for his white sweat socks. He leaned against the wall to remove these, giving me a full view of his denuded crotch; like mine, closely shaved to better display a long dangling cock and deep full sac. Needless to say, I was totally enflamed. He, on the other hand, seemed completely unconcerned to be so exposed. Despite my earlier assessment, he had a beautiful body, and actually a handsome face now that those ugly glasses had been removed. The sight of him in this condition had aroused more than just my interest, as evidenced by the desperate rise and pressure in my crotch. I was still frozen in a state of disbelief—not that I was adverse to the idea; it just seemed too good to be true. Seeing that I was reluctant to follow his lead, he shrugged. “It’s up to you,” he said. “Strip and come in with me, or I’ll send you back down.”
I stripped. Roy placed his neatly folded clothes on a bench beside the elevator, motioning for me to do the same. Then he took hold of my bloated, half-risen cock and led me into the foyer of the loft.
I sensed that the pressure of the young man’s fingers about my cock marked some ultimate symbol of my surrender, and of entering into a new, totally unknown realm. I had never been touched like this before, and except for a few tantalizing memories of the boys’ shower room, I had never shared such total nakedness with another guy, certainly not in this highly charged, sexual context. I was so aroused it was almost overwhelming. I moved inside an aura of my own body heat—sweating, I realized, although the temperature was comfortable. Roy led me to an ironbound wooden door, set into an otherwise solid wall that appeared to be stone. He lifted a heavy wolf’s head knocker, tapping it gently against the panel. His request was answered by a soft buzzing sound and a substantial “click” that caused the door to swing inward.
I don’t know what I’d expected, but only my wildest flights of fancy might have prepared me for this room. Along a narrow, dimly lighted corridor that must have run the entire width of the building was a continuous row of cell doors…perhaps a dozen in total. They were made of heavy mesh, like a chain-link fence, and the nearest two seemed occupied by naked figures who sat cross-legged on the stone floor. Standing in the center of the corridor to my left was a big, powerfully built man wearing what appeared to be a brown leather apron. He was naked except for this and a skullcap of the same material and some sort of soft rough-out boots. His arms were crossed against his chest. He looked like some medieval dungeon master. Roy had finally let go of my prick and taken a few steps back. This left me alone to face the Master. My gaze kept moving from him to the caged prisoners and back, fear beginning to mingle with awe as I tried to accept a reality that was so bizarre, yet so completely in keeping with my fantasies that I might almost have constructed it all from my secret mental images.
“We have a few hours to wait,” said the Master, without further elaboration. His voice was soft, almost soothing, although it was of a deep, dark-toned timbre. He motioned toward the nearest empty cell, and Roy led me into it…not touching me until we were both inside. Then he took hold of my shoulders, turned me to face a width of screen beside the door, and guided me to stand against it. The Master stood watching us, silent as Roy went about his work. He positioned me with arms and legs spread wide, apparently taking his unspoken instructions from the Master, who remained in front of me, nodding occasionally until his minion had me posed as he required. He then reached behind him and took a handful of rawhide strips from a peg in the outer wall. Deftly, without a wasted motion, he secured my wrists to the mesh, while Roy knelt in back of me and did the same with my ankles. Once I was firmly secured, the Master stepped back and Roy came out to join him. At another nod from the commanding figure, Roy reached inside the mesh and pulled my genitals through one of the openings.
I was bound, I realized, in much the same posture I had assumed during some of my own solo games, except that I was now genuinely restrained and my struggles were something more than pretense. The Master grinned as if pleased—at least satisfied—and turned to leave. “You may enjoy yourselves,” he said simply, and closed the heavy door behind him.
The whole vault was silent for a minute, so still that I could hear the blood rushing through my veins; my heart seemed to be pounding inside my skull. Then Roy moved up to seize my cock, still half-hard despite my growing fear and the tenseness that was already creeping into my arms and shoulders. He played with me, licking his lips, moving his face closer to mine as if he intended to kiss me. But the mesh separated us. Still I pressed my face against it and Roy’s seeking tongue probed into me. I could feel the heat welling up in my balls and I tried to pull away, not wanting to shoot my load.
To help regain control I sought to distract myself long enough for my lusts to lose their focus. “The others,” I whispered. “Are you going to free them?” I could hear some shuffling sounds from the neighboring cells, as their occupants were apparently trying to observe us.
Roy laughed softly. “It’s the weekend,” he explained. “They come to us on Friday night and they remain in custody until Monday…sometimes a little longer.”
I wasn’t sure I understood his meaning, but my own needs took over. I tried again to kiss him, but this time he went down on his knees and took my cock into his mouth. Just the touch of him, the warmth, the moisture…it brought the fluids boiling out of my balls, cascading down my shaft to fill him, catching him momentarily off guard so that he choked at the initial onslaught. He swallowed all I could give him, but never relinquished his hold. He knew I was good for another blast, and maybe something beyond that. He knew because he’d watched me, I thought, and for just a moment the sense of embarrassment, or betrayal, made me lose a modicum of hardness. But almost immediately I was back in stride, driving myself into him, demanding as best I could in my total bondage until I delivered another bolt.
I was not taken down for a long time, and was left alone for much of the afternoon as Roy visited a couple of the other cells. Only three were occupied by “weekenders,” I discovered, although there were apparently a pair of long-term captives in the cubicles on either end of the passage. Roy never went near these; in fact he had a substantial interaction only with the guy in the cell one down from me. I couldn’t see, of course, but I could hear an intriguing rattle of chains and the sharp impact of leather on flesh. There were groans and cries of pain, muted finally when Roy apparently gagged his subject. Except for the involuntary outcries no one spoke, and an eerie silence seemed to engulf the entire prison. Silence must have been the rule, I thought, some regulation imposed by the Master.
I had no way to tell how long I had been spread-eagle against the mesh, but I ached through my entire body; the rawhide bindings were cutting into my wrists and ankles; and worst of all, I had to piss. Finally, Roy finished his games in the other cell and came back to check on me. He felt my hands and feet, testing to assure I sustained no serious harm. “Please let me down,” I whispered. “I really gotta piss.”
He reached in and touched my face with his fingers, pressing one into my mouth so that I could suck on it. Then he knelt in front of me as he had before and took my swollen, tumescent prick into his mouth. I could see his face tilted up to meet my own gaze, and I thought he made a slight nodding motion. His lips tightened on my shaft, and I could feel him pulling on it. I could hardly believe that he wanted me to piss into his mouth, but I was to a point where I could not hold on much longer. I released a small trickle and felt him press more firmly into my groin. Then I let go, flooding him with my piss, which he took for several heartbeats before slipping free and bending his head beneath the warm cascading rush. His hair was soaked as he leaned back, allowing the full blast to gush across his face and down the front of his supplicating body. In the end it formed a rivulet down the center of his chest, into his groin, and along his own cock to spill into a steaming puddle on the floor about his knees.
He took me down a little while later and sponged me off with a cloth soaked in warm, slightly scented water. He gave me some beer to drink, which made me a little woozy, and some plain saltine crackers. After this we sat together on a wooden bench in the hall outside my cell until the Master returned. In all that time, I’m sure that Roy had never made any attempt to dry himself or to otherwise wipe my piss from his hair and body.
I was taken into the same room that I had watched through the telescope and placed under the double A-frame. Leather cuffs were locked around my wrists, and a leather hood was placed over my head. Banks of candles guttered in groups from the corners of the chamber. It had been dark outside when we entered the room, although I don’t think it was very late. It occurred to me that I should have been home long before now, or should at least have called. Now it was too late. The hood had a wide leather flap that fit into my mouth and effectively gagged me. There was also a snap-on piece across my eyes, intended to act as a blindfold. However, one side had come loose and I was able to see a bit, mostly the front of my own body and my feet until these were seized and pulled wide apart, bound to either side of the frame. This left me suspended, hanging by my wrists.
I was not in any real pain, not yet. The leather cuffs were padded and kept anything from cutting into me. I could hear Roy talking to the Master, their whispered words partially muffled by my hood. I thought they were doing something with their telescope, and twice I was sure I heard Roy call the Master “Daddy.” There was a soft burring, ringing, like a cell phone, and the Master seemed to answer. But he must have stepped out of the room, because I couldn’t hear him for several minutes. At length, after a short, whispered exchange with Roy, they unfastened my ankles from the sides of my frame, allowing me a momentary respite to stand and thus relieve the pressure on my wrists. Then, abruptly, both legs were lifted, and my body was bent double as they hefted my ankles up, against the crossbar. They snapped clamps onto the leather bindings and I was suddenly hanging by my four extremities.
I heard the Master laugh, a soft chuckle, then again, and I realized he must be speaking into his phone. “Chuck says it’s a great view of the kid’s asshole,” he said. I heard him laugh again. “Yeah, eighteen’s the game,” he added.
Chuck? Chuck was my father’s name. I twisted my body, but I was completely helpless, hanging like a carcass in a slaughterhouse. Then a warm hand came down against my groin, kneading my balls, pulling at my dick. I had grown soft through all of this, and I was trying to think. I had been led into some kind of planned scenario, and now I was completely at the mercy of Roy and his Master—father? I wanted to cry out, to question their intent…question my circumstances. But there was nothing I could do. I was hanging by my wrists and ankles, supported by a waistband, unable to make any move to protect myself. Worse, I could feel the motion of air against my asshole, and was doubly embarrassed to realize that my most private area was openly displayed, vulnerable for whatever use either of my captors might wish to make of it. Gently, the unseen hand began to manipulate my prick, to caress it, knead it, one finger playing about the tip until I knew I had released a few drops of precum, felt the fingers play with it, rub it onto my cockhead, and continue teasing me back to total hardness. Finally, while the taunting hand continued its ministrations, a second began to explore my asshole. I started at the unexpected touch, but had no choice, no way to resist or even protest. I forced myself to relax the muscles as one long, probing digit entered me, spreading a sensation of warmth. It was coated with something slick, slippery. I groaned, and tried to lift myself away from the invading contact. But the possession continued until I accepted it, hung slack in my bondage and ceased my futile attempt to resist.
No one had spoken through all of this, but I knew it had to be Roy who manipulated me. His cock was pressing against me, trying to ease its way inside, sliding easily through the lubricated passage. He went slowly, never forced himself, and gradually my body accommodated his entry. He had continued to massage my cock, causing such a flood of sensation I hardly reacted to the brief, sharp stab of pain when he fully penetrated me. I was lost in the most thoroughly encompassing wave of pleasure I had ever known, and this simply mounted in intensity as he began slowly pumping himself into me, then out, and back again. I was experiencing the kind of penetration I had only dreamed of. I had always been afraid to poke anything into myself, so this was my first anal experience. It was certainly everything I had ever imagined it would be, and I was still riding this emotional high when I felt the hood being loosed and gradually pulled from my head.
At first, even the dim illumination made me blink, and it took another moment to focus my gaze. I saw Roy standing against me, grasping my thighs as he continued to fuck my ass. The Master stood to one side watching us, and next to him was my dad! If I had not been in such a state of physical euphoria I would surely have freaked. But Roy leaned harder against me, forcing his cock to its fullest depth. He touched my lips with his, then drew back and whispered “Happy Birthday!” before plunging his tongue fully into my mouth. It was another few minutes before the full truth dawned on me. Eighteen was indeed the key, or more precisely the threshold, to adulthood…an initiation, a rite of passage…the most incredible milestone I would ever celebrate.
IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT
Jay Starre
Clay rode just behind RC. Out since dawn, they now followed along the left bank of a quiet stream that meandered through the vast emptiness of the eastern Colorado prairie. It was nearing sunset, and ahead, a bank of clouds broiled on the distant horizon.
The summer heat was oppressive. Sweat dribbled down Clay’s armpits and sides. His crotch was sopping and slipped uncomfortably where he sat in his saddle. The raging boner rubbing against his shorts and the inside of his jeans fly didn’t help.
RC was the reason for that hard-on. Blond, green eyed, and quiet, the ranch boss was a real hunk of cowboy. Clay had hinted on numerous occasions that he was hot for him, but RC hadn’t taken the bait.
Yet here they were, alone in the eastern pastures. RC had ordered Clay to accompany him on the fence-line inspection. They were camping out on the range that night, just the two of them.
Clay’s hard-on throbbed as he stared hungrily at the broad back above the muscular butt spread over the saddle of RC’s bay mare. He’d fuck that ass if he could. He’d do any nasty thing RC wanted if he could.
Clay, auburn haired, barely twenty-one, with bright golden eyes and a carefree chatty nature, did practically all of the talking on that long summer day, as they rode for miles under the summer sky, stopping at times to replace broken wire or reposition loose fence posts. “This looks like a good spot to camp, RC. We can sneak under the cover of those willows if that thunderstorm makes it this far.”
RC turned in his saddle. A rare smile, a nod, and that was it. They camped by a willow copse beside the burbling stream.
Unfortunately, the heat didn’t ease appreciably with the sunset. The promise of rain, even though it was likely to come in the form of a drenching thunderstorm, remained far to the west across endless grasslands.
Clay’s prick was half-hard throughout the hour it took to set up camp and fry up a meal of steak and ’taters. Lurid fantasies of sucking RC’s cock or bending over for the husky cowboy and taking it up the ass roiled through Clay’s fevered brain, much like the thunderclouds moving over the far-off mountains.
How could he tempt RC into sex? Could he come right out and suggest something? He didn’t want to alienate the big cowboy. But while they ate, Clay, never one to remain silent for long, blabbered on about anything that came to mind, until finally, he blurted it out.
“I’m so damn horny! All this riding and heat and all. How about you, RC? Got a boner tonight?”
His words hung in the air above their campfire like smoke that just wouldn’t dissipate. Clay flushed pink and waited with pounding heart for RC’s reaction.
RC smiled. A slow grin, enough to display his straight white teeth. Clay held his breath.
“Get over in front of that big willow. Shuck your clothes. Except your boots.”
Clay bounded up from his seat on a log and practically tripped over himself as he hastened to obey the quiet command. His mind raced, while his tongue just couldn’t stop wagging.
“You want me naked, RC? Butt naked? Sure! I don’t mind at all. It’s so fucking hot out here anyway! Are you gonna get naked too? If you want, I can jerk you off, if you’re horny and all like me. Or whatever you want.”
By this time Clay found his spot beneath the overhanging branches of a large willow tree and managed to tear off his shirt and hop out of his pants, yanking one boot off at a time before stepping back into them. Now he was naked except for them, and his white cotton underwear.
His stiff dick tented the skivvies, and he was momentarily embarrassed. His hands hesitated at the waistband as he gazed at RC, who was standing in front of him. A silent nod and a quiet stare was all Clay got, but it was enough. He yanked his underwear down and off over the boots, his cock rearing out in front of him in all its plump glory.
