Disclaimer: The following fictional story deals with sex between adult males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, do not read it. Permission is granted for re-posting provided that there is no cost to access this story (e.g. AdultCheck) and the story is posted in full without modifications. Copyright 2002 Zachary Thompson, all rights reserved.
Appearances can be Deceiving
By: Zachary Thompson
I trembled as the vibrator began to buzz again, sending waves of pleasure through my prostate. I had lost track of how long it had been since Kyle bound me securely to the bed. If past experience were any indicator, it would be quite some time before he would release me. Testing my bonds again, which as usual were perfectly secure, I lay back to enjoy the delicious torments he no doubt had in store for me today.
Kyle had blindfolded me right at the outset of the scene, leaving me helpless to discern what was coming next, so I lay back and listened to the music he had chosen for today. He had a proclivity for perverse musical selections - where tops in porn stories always seemed to like ambient techno, Kyle preferred to express his playful side. Our previous encounters had been set to the music of "Peter and the Wolf," Erasure, or - yikes! - Aqua. Today he seemed to be in an orchestral mood, as I recognized the strains of Bruch's Canzone for Cello.
Not only orchestral, but romantic, it would seem. This Bruch piece had been played the first time we went together to see the local orchestra perform. I wondered how deliberate that choice was for this evening. It was hard to believe that it had been over four years since we met at the university's gay discussion group. Kyle had been about twenty-one then, an aspiring young graduate student with an interest in Canadian politics. Clean-cut, about six feet tall, with reddish-brown hair and green eyes, he wasn't exactly the image of the hot young gay man that has recently been popularized by "Queer as Folk," but he had an offbeat cuteness to him, in a geeky sort of way. I was a year younger than him, and was still finishing my undergraduate degree in comparative literature.
After the meeting, most of the group went to the campus coffee house to hang out. We chatted briefly that evening, but I couldn't work up the nerve to ask him for his number. I remember mentally kicking myself when I got home: "Damn it Alexander, you're never going to get yourself a boyfriend if you don't take some initiative!" Over the following months, though, we fell in with the same group of people, and discovered that we had a lot in common, from interests in politics to a fondness for classical music. We started seeing each other about six months later.
I had not, at this point, ever imagined that Kyle was anything other than he appeared - a nice, intelligent guy with your typical range of interests: cooking, music, cycling and conversation. Never in a million years would I have expected him to have a kinky side in bed. Myself, I had surfed through the gay leather and bondage stories on the net, and more than once wondered what it would be like to be one of the people in the stories - one of the bottoms, to be more specific - bound, gagged, and being fucked senseless by a hot master. Kyle didn't seem the type to fulfil this particular fantasy. Not that I minded all that much. My priorities centred around a partner who was intelligent, emotionally stable, and fun to be with in a long-term relationship. Sex was important (of course), but I figured that plain vanilla would suit me just fine - if you haven't tried chocolate, you don't really know what you're missing.
For the first several months of our relationship, our sex life was just that - lots of foreplay, deep kissing, blowjobs and fucking. Never anything out of the ordinary. One night though, that changed. Kyle was sucking on my nipples - he knew how much that turned me on - and I made a move to play with his in return.
"Not now," he said, "I want you to lie back and enjoy this."
"But I want to play with them," I said in my most petulant voice.
"No, Alex, this is about you tonight. Do I have to tie you down to make sure that you stop trying to interrupt me?" he teased.
I'd never heard him mention an interest in bondage before. Could this be the opportunity I hoped it was?
"Maybe you should," I answered in my sauciest voice. "I don't know if I'll be able to restrain myself."
He looked at me with a glimmer in his eye. "You asked for it," he said, and grabbed the nearest thing he could find for a restraint - his discarded belt - and used it to tie my hands to the headboard. What followed was some of the hottest sex we'd ever had.
Later, in the afterglow, Kyle admitted that he had always wanted to experiment with bondage and SM, but didn't know how that would ever be possible. Like me, he travelled in the rather uptight circles of academia, where such behaviour was neither respectable nor even acceptable, for the most part. He had resigned himself to the fact that in order to have both a long-term partner and a teaching career in a university, those types of desires would have to be repressed. I hardly blamed him for believing that. More than once our friends had made derisive comments about "those leather people," and made jokes about the local fetish stores. On the surface, neither one of us looked, or acted the type to be interested in the darker side of sexual play. But, as it turned out, appearances can be deceiving.
Now, with over three years of our relationship under our belts, I knew just how deceiving they could be. Kyle truly had a devious, and kinky mind. Our bondage play had involved numerous positions, and he seemed to have a knack for coming up with new and inventive ways of keeping me bound. Not that he was the only creative one in this relationship. While I was generally the submissive type, I also had a dominant streak, which pleased Kyle immensely - particularly on the night I decided to drip hot wax on his tightly bound form. The red candle wax matched his pubic hairs quite nicely, I thought.
It was hard to predict what nights would be sexually adventurous ones, as we regularly incorporated conventional lovemaking into our routine. Today, for example, was completely out of the blue. I had just returned from the university, where I had been giving a seminar presentation to the other PhD students on "Comparative Gay Literature in the Americas," a presentation that I had been slaving over for weeks, and had stressed me right out. Kyle, in an act of self-preservation, had generally been staying out of the range of fire for the past week, and worked on his thesis in rooms where I was not.
I therefore wasn't expecting to find him completely geared up upon my return. I let myself into the apartment, threw my book bag down on the floor, and headed to the bedroom to get changed out of my formal clothes.
As I entered the bedroom, the stereo was playing the Brandenburg concertos, and the lights were dimmed. Candlelight was all that illuminated the room, coming from the six wrought-iron sconces scattered around the midnight blue walls. Kyle stood in front of me. He was wearing his leather chaps, which clung tightly to his sculpted legs (cycling can do that to you). They framed the black leather codpiece covering his cock, the outline of which was visible, even in this dim light. A half-harness of soft leather hugged his upper body, and a military-style peaked leather cap shaded his eyes, giving him a menacing look. "Strip," was all he said.
I complied immediately, folding my clothes as I took them off, and putting them on the dresser.
"On your knees, boy," he commanded. I sank to my knees, and clasped my hands behind my back in submission. He had not ordered me to do this, but I knew from experience that it was expected.
He approached me and stroked the side of my face with his fingers. I hadn't noticed until then that he was wearing his black leather kid gloves. The smell of the leather was intoxicating. "You know that you need this," he said, stroking me on the cheek.
Kyle moved over to a table positioned behind me, on which I could see the wide assortment of leather and bondage gear that we had accumulated over the years. He selected a leather hood, with openings for the eyes and the mouth, and slid it over my head. As he tightened the leather laces, I felt the hood conform to the contours of my face, and smelled the mixture of leather and male sweat which still lingered in it from our past adventures. My cock twitched at the memory. Kyle noticed, and chuckled quietly. "Aren't we the eager one?" he teased.
He picked up the leather collar, placed it around my neck, and buckled it in the back. He moved around in front of me and pulled gently upwards on the ring in the front of the collar, so that I was looking straight into his eyes. "Once I lock this on you boy," he said, "you are mine until I say we're done. You will follow my orders, the most important of which is that you may not cum until I give you permission. Are you ready boy?"
It was hard to say "no," given the anticipation that had been building in me since entering the room. "Yes, sir," I replied. He took a small lock from the table, and clicked it shut through the holes in the collar. We had bought this particular collar three years ago, in Montreal. It had been the first time in a leather store for either of us, and we hadn't been sure of ourselves at all. Back then, it had taken a great deal of mutual goading to work up the nerve to even enter the store. Three years, multiple return trips, and visits to other stores - including one unforgettable trip to Amsterdam - had long since helped us overcome those apprehensions. Still, the first leather collar held powerful symbolic meaning for both of us, and was a staple of almost any scene.
It is hard to describe the sensation that that clicking sound awoke in me. It was as if the reality of my submission fell into place. Not that I didn't trust Kyle to take care of me when in a scene - it was just that I was never sure what he was planning to do, or how far he was going to push me. We had long ago established a safeword, and a slowword. I had only used the latter twice, and never the former - I didn't need to, since we had built up enough rapport over the years to know what we could each take. Nevertheless, I still trembled at the thought of what boundaries he would push, and what he believed I was now ready to endure.
Grasping hold of the collar once again, he pulled me to my feet. He quickly secured leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles, then led me over to the bed. The cuffs are about 3 inches wide, and made of very soft leather. Being bound in them is much like being securely held - they don't chafe in the way that rope does, but there's no way you're getting loose from them either!
Kyle ordered me to lie down in the middle of the bed. He stood over me, looking down on me, as if studying a specimen in a lab. I returned his gaze, my eyes roaming over his leather-clad form. It truly was amazing what a change of clothes can do for a person's appearance. None of our friends would ever recognize him in this state. "Do you like what you see?" he asked.
"Oh, yes sir!" I replied eagerly.
"Enjoy the view," he said with an evil grin, "because it's the last thing you're going to get to see for a while." With that, he slipped a leather blindfold over my eyes, and tightened it securely. A few seconds later, the volume of the music was turned up, and what little I had been able to hear through the muffling effect of the hood was drowned out by Bach.
Although technically I was still free to move, psychologically I was already bound. I love the effect of sensory deprivation - the way it heightens my senses. I felt truly helpless, and completely in his control. I lay there for a couple of minutes, savouring the headspace and the darkness. Then I felt a gentle caress on my cock. I had not lost my erection since the beginning of the scene, but my cock felt as if it were expanding even more to meet his touch. He slowly moved his gloved hand up and down the shaft about five or six times, and then stopped. I moaned in lust and frustration.
I then sensed his presence close to my head. "We'd better make sure you don't get tempted to break the rules, don't you think?" he whispered huskily into my ear.
He took hold of my left arm, and tugged it towards the upper corner of the bed. A series of tugs and pulls let me know that he was using rope to tie it to the upper corner of the bedframe. I pulled against the bondage to test it. No surprise there - the ropework was excellent. He repeated the process on the other side. A quick tweak on my nipples made me jump, but also verified for him that I was securely tied. He returned his attentions to my cock. Six strokes, and then he stopped. I grimaced in frustration behind the hood, silently hoping that he wouldn't see how successful this particular tactic was.
I forgot how well he knew me.
"Don't like being denied, eh?" he murmured at my ear. "Then you're definitely not going to like this!" He bent my legs back, so that my knees were at my chest. The cool, wet sensation of lubricant at my hole indicated to me that he was devious indeed. One of our more recent vacations had included the purchase of a small, remote-controlled vibrator. It was quite narrow, barely larger in diameter than a thumb, but more than long enough to stimulate me where it counts. I felt it slowly, deliciously invade me, inching upwards until it came to rest against my prostate. A pulse of sexual pleasure jolted through my body, causing me to buck my hips and proving to him that it was in perfect working order, and well positioned. He turned it off, and lowered my legs back down. "Don't worry," he said, "we'll be having plenty of fun with this over the next little while."
Never one to leave a good bondage job half-done, he then turned his ministrations to my ankle cuffs. He took each one in turn, threading ropes through the rings in the cuffs, and securing them to the corners of the bed frame. I was now tightly bound in an "X" position, spread-eagled on the bed.
I felt his hand on my cock again, this time pumping much faster. I felt myself getting close to climax, and tried to move my body so as to "help him along". I still had a bit of freedom of movement, even if my limbs were tied to the corners of the bed.
"We can't have all this moving about now, can we?" Kyle said, noting my efforts to control the action. I sensed what was coming next before it happened. In his experiments with ropework, Kyle had bought a book on knots and bondage techniques. It had produced some fascinating results, including the one he was about to begin work on - tight spread-eagle bondage. My suspicions were confirmed as I felt increased tension between my arms. He had threaded a rope between the loops in my wrist-cuffs, and pulled it taut over my head, linking them tightly to each other. This greatly reduced my range of motion. He repeated the process three more times - left wrist to left ankle, left ankle to right ankle, and right ankle to right wrist. Although I was blindfolded, I knew that the visual effect of this was striking - much like a spiderweb, with the victim - me - in the middle. It was also a much more restrictive position, greatly reducing my freedom of motion. To test his knots, he tickled me gently. I hate being tickled, and generally don't find it erotic. I am, however, extremely ticklish, and it is an extremely good means of testing if I am securely bound, as I will do almost anything to get out of the way. Unfortunately, despite my vigorous attempts to evade his roaming fingers, there was nowhere I could go.
He stopped tickling me, and moved into a position where I could hear him. "Are you comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I replied, "if rather immobilized."
He laughed softly at this. "Then I guess there's no need for you to say anything else. Open up!" As I opened my mouth, he slid in the pecker gag. It is made of rubber, and is about three inches long, filling my mouth comfortably, and giving me something to bite down on as he torments me. Speech is impossible, which suits me just fine, as it gives me the freedom to moan and groan as much as I please.
So there I lay, tightly bound, collared, hooded, gagged and blindfolded, helpless to resist the whims of my lover and Master. And what perverse whims they were. I lost track of time as he would stroke my cock until I was close to bursting, then suddenly stop just as I was about to climax, only to begin the process again several minutes later. Sometimes this was accompanied by the buzzing of the vibrator, other times by his sucking and licking my very sensitive nipples. Other times he would leave my cock alone and just play with my other erogenous zones. Often, though, I was left just to float along in my dark bondage prison, with only the varying classical music for company.
What Kyle did during these periods when I was alone, I wasn't sure. I knew that he didn't leave the room - he was too careful for that. I suspected that he was reading a book of some sort. The perverse little bugger would usually tell me afterwards what it had been, and his reading choices were indicative of his quirky personality. No erotica for him, he was more likely to be reading "Calvin and Hobbes" cartoons or an Inspector Morse mystery. Once, when he thought that I couldn't hear him, he turned on the television quietly and watched an episode of the Animaniacs. He's a sick little puppy, that's for sure.
The buzzing of the vibrator suddenly increased in intensity, sending tremors throughout my body and making my cock leak more precum. I felt the warmth of his mouth envelop my cock, his tongue playing on the base of my cockhead. This alone almost pushed me over the edge. I badly wanted to cum, but I had been ordered not to. Boyfriend or not, Kyle would punish me for disobedience. I had cum without permission before, the consequence of which was him playing with my cockhead - this is usually a pleasurable experience, but immediately after cumming it can be incredibly painful.
I struggled to retain control over myself, fighting against the need to cum, but without anything to look at or listen to as a form of distraction, I sensed it was losing battle. I tried breathing in and out slowly, to maintain some semblance of control. Fortunately for my sanity, he soon stopped, and turned his attention to my nipples. His tongue ran circles around them, which sent me into a frenzy of desire, but was less likely to make me shoot.
Then suddenly, nothing. The vibrator was turned off, and Kyle stopped his caresses. My cock was rock hard, and aching for release. It remained that way for minutes, as I waited for the next round. It seemed like forever that I lay there waiting, all of my attentions focused on my cock, and my need to cum.
Still nothing. I tried to buck my hips to encourage him to play with me again, but I was too securely bound. I was completely helpless, and mad with lust.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, I felt Kyle lie down beside me. The warmth of his body pressed against my side, as he casually began to stroke my cock again, very slowly. "You've done well to hold out so long," he said. "And I am going to give you an opportunity for the release you need. I am going to count you down from ten. You are not allowed to cum until I am finished counting. If you fail to cum at the end of the countdown, you will not get any release. What's more, you will be punished for having failed to follow orders."
"Ten." He started stroking my cock faster, and I groaned with pleasure.
"Nine." He tweaked my nipple, maintaining his stroking.
"Eight." The vibrator increased to full strength, and tremors of need wracked my body.
"Seven." A brief pause, as he stopped both stroking my cock, and the vibrator was turned off.
"Six."
"Five." The vibrator and the stroking began again, and the renewed intensity almost pushed me over the edge.
"Four." He jerked my cock faster, as I struggled to retain control.
"Three." Not yet... must not cum...
"Two." I felt my ballsac pull up close to my body as all the energy in my body and all of my attention focused completely on my cock. Just a couple more seconds.
"One." My body spasmed with pleasure, as the vibrator pulsed with a burst of additional energy.
"Now!" The orgasm wracked my body. I felt spurts of cum shoot out of my cock, splattering my chest. I was caught in the moment of the orgasm, which seemed to go on forever.
Then, it was over. I panted to catch my breath, and shivered as my body convulsed with after-shocks. I lay there, secure in the web into which Kyle had bound me, securely held by the leather cuffs, and shrouded in the hood. I felt safe and allowed my senses to float in the pleasurable sensations which accompanied the after-effects of orgasm.
After I had come down, Kyle gently lifted my head, and unbuckled the gag. He left the blindfold in place, knowing that I didn't like to come back to the real world too quickly. He removed the gag from my mouth, and kissed me deeply.
"Thank-you, sir," I whispered.
"You're welcome Alex," he replied, "I knew you needed this after the stressful week you've been having." With that, my partner and lover (and occasional Master) held me, gently caressing me as I slowly came back to reality.
The End.
Author's Note: Comments, suggestions for improvement and related ramblings are welcome via email at shaych1977@yahoo.ca.