He looked just the way I wanted him to. He was wearing a pale pink sleeveless shirt which left his swollen biceps exposed and struggled to cover his chest. It was not tight around the other parts of his torso. It moved against his body to suggest a toned stomach without being lewd. The lewdness of the situation did not lie in what he was wearing. On his lower half, long shorts. Underneath, I assumed, was the black thong I'd asked him to wear. His caramel skin paled out where it was stretched over the muscles of his arm. His hair was black - shaved down at the sides and spiked up in the middle. When I met him, he was wearing aviators, but he took them off when I let him upstairs. He had a sharp jaw and high cheek-bones; big dark eyes and a sensuous, small mouth. He was beautiful. There was in his eyes and mouth the expression that said he knew it.
He was a prostitute. I'd been with him before, but this time my plans were a bit more involved. I'd explained everything I was planning to him, and he seemed to like the idea. I'm not into pain -- the bondage is rather a symbol of irresistable pleasure -- not "I am going to cause you pain against your will" but "I am going to pleasure you to such a degree you will not be able to help succumbing".
Upstairs, I had him take off his shorts, but left his shirt and thong on. I roped his arms to a two-foot bar behind his back, just below the biceps. This had the effect of preventing him from reaching his groin, but allowing his arms to roam the rest of his torso. Also, of setting his biceps in sharp relief, surging over the bar and against his shirt. Then I tied his feet to a board, about two feet apart. I gagged him with a cloth. Lastly, I wheeled over my full-body mirror, about six feet by three, to be a position one foot in front of him.
"Look at yourself," I commanded, standing behind him and over his shoulder, "you are sexy as fuck." He could not respond through the gag, but nodded tentatively -- no disagreement there. I pulled down his thong and looked at his cock. It was not particularly long, but well-formed, resting flaccid against a sizeable pair of balls. His eyes widened as I grabbed these, and put his entire package through into a glass cock ring. Then I pulled his thong back up. His penis was starting to engorge and strain against the fabric, but I tucked it down.
Lastly, I lubed up a small egg vibrator and popped it in his ass, pulling aside the string of the thong to do so and letting it snap back into place. I strapped the vibrator's unit to the inside of his thigh. Then I turned it to a low buzz. He was starting to let his eyes close, as he enjoyed the constraints against his arms and legs, his cock in its ring and the fabric of the thong. "Open your eyes," I told him, "I want you to look at yourself. Look how sexy you are." He did. I watched from behind him as his eyes opened. They first looked back at me, before turning to his own handsome face. They lowered, looking to the left and right bicep bulging but helpless, his lower arms dangling at his sides, pulled back by the bar and unable to help his cock, which was next in his sight, now lascivious against the thong, a small spot black-on-black forming at its tip, down his powerful thighs and to the bindings of his feet. But his eyes came back up to his chest and rested there: his hulking chest, all that muscle incapable of any purpose in this situation -- any purpose except our mutual pleasure -- taught against the pink shirt.
"You love your chest don't you?" He nodded. "I know you don't get a chest like that by sitting at home. How many times a week do you go to the gym?" I was toying with him, knowing he couldn't answer. "And how much time do you spend on the bench press -- not for health, not for physical fitness, just for you and me to stare at your chest." As I said this, I brought out a pair of scissors. Coming to the front of his body, I pulled the pale pink away from his chest and began to cut a hole from right to left, then stood back. Now the lower half of his chest protruded obscenely from the hole, the slabs of pec hanging out, with his reddish-brown nipples beginning to firm up and away. I moved back behind him.
"Look at you now. Bound. Forced to do what I know you always want to. Forced to look at yourself. It's shameful, to be so vain. Look at your cock drooling over the sight of your own body." His eyes jerked downward from his chest, to where his cock was straining against the thong. The fabric of the thong was pulling away from his inner thigh and you could see part of his cock trying to thrust out. He involuntarily flexed it, and it slid upwards, the tip almost coming out of the thong. Involuntarily he reached for it, whether to adjust it or begin stroking I don't know. But he couldn't reach it for the bar restricting his arms. "Ah ah ah. Your cock is for me. You get the rest of your body. Start playing with your chest." He did. His hands reached up and cupped those massive pecs, stroked them, kneaded them, all the while he watched himself doing it in the mirror, only two feet away from his image.
I knew he was not really ashamed. He would have been in public. In public, such vanity, such self-sluttiness, is a barely-concealed secret, to be guessed-at but never revealed. Here, I had created a space where he could be the self-slut he wanted. In fact he had no choice about it.
I grabbed one of his arms and handed him a pair of nipple clamps. "Put these on." He couldn't do it. You need two hands to get them on proper, and his far arm couldn't reach his opposite nipple. I grabbed his left nipple, and twisted it, then clamped it in. He moaned slightly. The nipple clamps were set very tight -- I wasn't planning on leaving them there for a long time, I just wanted them there for a couple minutes to make his nipples as sensitive as could be. I clamped the other nipple and he moaned again. The chain connecting the two clamps hung down in front of his shirt. I adjusted the vibrator on his thigh to a higher setting, and pressed my crotch into his crack. Then I began to run my hands along his legs, up and down, getting ever closer to his cock in the thong.
He looked on with envy. He was envious that I was touching his beautiful body and he was constrained. But his arousal was obvious, with the egg against his prostate and the nipple clamps on his pecs, swelling out of the hole in his shirt. He began to use his hands of his own accord, trying their best to reach his cock they reached only to his taught stomach and abs. He began to rub them under his shirt, massaging himself, only bringing himself to a higher state of arousal and getting no nearer to his cock, which was still just barely jutting out of the thong and now positively slick with precum. I teased him with my hands getting higher and higher, to the point I was coming up against his sack. But I didn't touch his cock. I pulled away the thong to uncover his balls, cupped them, and twisted them. His eyes widened again and he began to whimper continuously through the gag.
I left his balls hanging out, and got up behind him again. Then I pulled the shirt over the nipple clamps roughly. He moaned at that, and I pulled the shirt over his head to rest against the back of his neck, exposing his whole front body for himself to see. Now I began to stroke his cock through the fabric, gently, not giving him much, just teasing. I began to pull on the chain of the nipple clamps in time with my stroking. He began to shudder. I suddenly grabbed his cock and pumped it firmly through the thong. He made thrusting motions with this pelvis, into my hand, and just when he was close to coming I pulled the clamps off with a yank. He shouted through the gag, and I let his cock go so that we could both watch it throbbing below his sweating and shuddering body. I stepped back and put a condom on my cock and lubed it up. Meanwhile, he began to knead his pecs again of his own accord, but avoided his now-oversensitive nips.
"Let me explain this to you," I said. "I'll take your cock out if you show me you want to see it. I'll know you want to see it if you impale your ass on my cock right now." He thrust back against me, despite the vibrator still in his ass now on a high setting. But my cock was not aimed properly, and slid up along his crack. He began madly rubbing his crack along my cock, trying to get it in, staring at his body as it debased itself in the mirror. Of course, that didn't work. "Let me help you." I pulled the string of the thong aside and held my cock at the correct angle. He thrusted again, more controlledly this time. My head pressed against his sphincter, and he bit down on the gag and let out a sigh through his nose. A bit farther and I was in. But I was not so kind; I pulled back a little. He thrust his ass out toward me to keep my head inside him. He did just barely, but I kept pulling back until he was almost bent over in half. I toyed with him, letting just the tip of my cock go in and out. Then I stepped forward, and he came up to standing with my cock fully inside him. The vibrator rubbed against his prostate all the harder now, and against me.
I pulled his thong down to his spread-apart thighs. His cock was bouncing up and down, begging for release. Now with my cock and a vibrator inside him, he looked upon his beautiful body, and reached again for his cock helplessly. He began to rub his stomach and abs for a second time. I began stroking his penis again ever so lightly. With one hand, I took some of the precum from his cock and rubbed it over one nipple, then the other. He moaned. I began to thrust into his ass and he whimpered.
"Show me you love your body," I told him. "Start playing with your nipples." He reached up to his nipples tepidly, and began to pull and tug on each of them as I gently stroked his cock. "Fuck yourself on my cock. Slowly." He moved back and forth slowly onto and off of my dick. I grabbed his cock and started stroking more firmly. Convinced that this was it, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, concentrating on the sensations of constriction as he moved back and forth. When he was about to come again I let go of his cock and slapped it as hard as I could to one side. "No. Keep your eyes open. Look at your body. Look at yourself." He did as commanded. Again, his eyes came to rest on his beautiful chest, where his hands were limply holding onto his nipples, tugging them slightly downward.
"I'm going to stroke you in proportion to how hard you twist your nipples," I told him. I turned the vibrator up to its highest setting, and his moaning stepped up a notch. He began to twist his sensitive nipples, and I took over the thrust, going harder now. I played with his cock lightly. He looked at me, understanding that he was going to have to go harder on himself if he wanted enough stimulation on his penis to cum. "Twist them harder!" I said. He did so, and began moaning loudly through the gag, his mouth now hanging wide open around it, but his eyes still focussed back and forth between his chest and its reddening nipples and the cock as I began to stroke more firmly. It was not enough, and he twisted his nipples harder still. His face creased with the pain, but it was mixed with pleasure and I began to finally stroke his cock and thrust in time hard enough to build up his orgasm. When it almost broke, I shouted "self-slut!" and slapped his cock from one hand to the other. With a juddering scream, he erupted and spewed on his own cock in the mirror without my touching him. I came into his ass at the same time.
// borg2424@gmail.com