Bending over, he spread his ass cheeks with one hand and with the other pressed the object home. It went in easily, as he had indeed been practicing. When it was in to the hilt he started to stand up and turn toward his lover, feeling something like triumph mingling with a lingering shame.
“No.” Eric’s words stopped him. “Stay bent over like that. You look like such a little slut.” His voice had that cruel edge to it now, which made Johnny hard with submissive desire. Again that lingering shame blended with lust. Johnny remained bent over, his hair falling into his eyes, his hands on his knees.
He heard the click of a camera behind him and started to rise, startled. “Stay where you are,” Eric admonished. “I took a picture to show you later what a slut you are. This is the first of many pictures for your slave album. I will take you further than you ever dreamed, if you let me. I will claim you utterly, if you permit it. You will belong to me, not only in body, but in soul.”
Eric stepped around beside Johnny, pulling his head up roughly by the hair. Johnny gasped as Eric leaned his face close to his. “Do you want that, slave?” Still holding Johnny by the hair, Eric grabbed him roughly by the cock, his hand sliding up and down the shaft, milking it until Johnny moaned.
“Yes,” Johnny whispered hoarsely, “I do, Sir.”
“Prove it. Give me a sign of your willingness.”
Johnny ejaculated and fell to his knees.
Eric kissed the top of his head and helped him to his feet. Wrapping his strong arms around Johnny, Eric whispered, “You will be mine.”
Chapter 10
They spent the rest of Friday evening in mostly vanilla heavy petting, though Eric knew Johnny was ready for more. He liked his men that way—ready, eager and begging for more. They had to ask for it, to crave it, to beg for it. Eric’s style was not one of forcing his will on his sub. He would use them, make no mistake, but they would love every minute of the suffering.
They had previously discussed safe sex—pretty much a given in the gay community, but because Johnny was so new, Eric hadn’t wanted to take any chances. “I’ve been with a lot of guys, Johnny,” he’d said seriously. “I’ve always been careful, always used condoms. I’m clean and healthy, but just the same, I prefer to err on the side of caution.” He was pleased Johnny had readily agreed, though he’d blushed a little, no doubt thinking about where that sheathed cock would be going.
Now it was Saturday evening, and after a lazy day of sleeping in, a late breakfast at a nearby café and some clothes shopping, Eric had decided it was time—Johnny was ready.
To put him in a more submissive frame of mind, Eric had had Johnny step into the shower with him, but not stand directly under the hot spray. Instead he was told to stand behind Eric, soaping his body and washing his hair, then waiting while Eric rinsed himself and stepped out before being permitted to wash himself.
“Don’t touch that cock except to get it clean, you understand?” Eric said, sticking his head into the shower. “It belongs to me now. You touch it only when I give you permission.” Johnny’s cock had swelled visibly as Eric gave his directive, something Eric noted with satisfaction.
As he toweled himself dry, he mused on Johnny’s potential. He seemed eager and willing. Eric had been impressed with his initiative with the dildo during the week and with his obedience in demonstrating its use. He’d actually been expecting more resistance, more embarrassment, more shame.
He was also pleased with Johnny’s online research, and his reactions to what he had read and viewed. They seemed to share a romantic sensibility toward D/s—something Eric had not seen a lot of in the gay BDSM scene.
Could Johnny be “the one”?
Eric knew he had to move slowly, not so much with the S&M games—Johnny seemed pretty eager in that regard—but with the romantic side of things. Johnny was young, and not just in years. He was so inexperienced, so new! Like he’d literally been on a shelf waiting to start living. Eric didn’t want to scare him away. He knew he had to be careful.
“Get out of the shower now, Johnny. Dry yourself and meet me in the bedroom. Put on the underwear I’ve left for you.” Once in his bedroom, Eric lit the dozen or so candles he’d placed around the room beforehand. As he pulled on his black soft-cotton lounging pants he glanced at himself in the mirror across from his bed. His image was softly lit by flickering candle flames. A small lamp near the bed was the only other illumination in the room. His olive brown skin glowed golden, his shoulders broad and strong, his chest smooth. He shook his hair out of his eyes. Eric’s dark, Latino, chiseled good looks were wasted on himself. He knew people found him hot, but it was a matter of indifference to him. Like Johnny, he’d never had a particular self-interest, preferring to find beauty in the things and people he surrounded himself with.
Eric, you had better watch your step with this one. He’s going to steal your heart, and if you’re not careful, he’ll run away with it. This one is dangerous. Stay cool, hombre.
As Johnny came into the room, Eric held back a sigh of pleasure. He looked so submissive with his eyes downcast, his hands crossed modestly over his red silk-covered crotch. Affecting a stern countenance Eric said, “Hands at your sides. How dare you cover yourself in front of me?”
Quickly Johnny dropped his hands. Eric licked his lips at the sight of the bulge beneath the red silk. “Are you ready for me, Johnny? I haven’t let you come since last night. I know you’re probably aching to come by now, am I right, sexy man?”
Johnny nodded, looking away as Eric walked over to him, standing so close he could smell the shampoo on Johnny’s honey-colored wet hair. “Don’t turn away from me. Tonight you are going to show me if you have the potential to be my slave. You will start by keeping your eyes on mine unless I tell you otherwise. When you turn away from me, you are hiding. To truly submit you must hide nothing.”
Johnny obeyed, locking his eyes on Eric’s. Eric silently marveled at their beauty. Those green eyes were glittering in the candlelight. Eric had never seen such eyes, the gold rimming the black irises and flecked throughout the pure green emerald.
He stepped back a pace to distance himself from the sheer beauty of the man. Busying himself with one of the ties he had earlier secured to the bed-posts, Eric commanded, “Lie down on the bed, on your back. I’m going to bind your wrists and ankles. You won’t be able to move, but you’ll be safe. I’m not going to gag you because I want you to be able to speak. Later in your training I will gag you and blindfold you and plug your ears. When you feel the whip snake its way over your body, you won’t know when the next strike will be. You won’t be able to anticipate the cut of the lash by the telltale whoosh of sound just prior to it finding its mark. This loss of control heightens the intensity of the experience. When you can’t cry out—can’t beg for me to stop, you begin to appreciate who is truly in control of your pleasure and your pain.”
Johnny’s eyes widened as Eric spoke, his breathing becoming fast and shallow. “Relax, sweetheart,” Eric said, smiling. He stroked Johnny’s bare back as he led him toward the bed. “That is for another time, when you’ve proved you are worthy of such delicious tortures. For now, we’ll start slow. I’ll know when you’re ready. Together we will find your measure. For now, just lie down. Lift your arms up over your head and spread your legs.”
Johnny lay down on his back, assuming the position as Eric had instructed. Eric secured each wrist and ankle with a thick but supple leather cuff and then used a metal clip to close each one. He slipped the rope ties into the ring of each clip, pulling Johnny’s naked body taut.
Eric stood back, observing his slave, bound and naked, save for the strip of red silk still covering his cock and balls. He took the digital camera from the nightstand and snapped several pictures. Johnny closed his eyes, turning his head to the side.
Eric didn’t stop or reprimand him for this. Instead he sat next to Johnny on the bed and rested his cheek a moment on Johnny’s chest. He could feel the steady, rapid thumping of
Johnny’s heart beneath the smooth, warm skin.
They had discussed over dinner that Johnny was ready for a bit of pain—nothing too dramatic, but a taste of the sensual pleasure that erotic pain could afford. Now Eric produced the ruler, the one Johnny had bought the Monday before. He snapped it against his palm before setting it down on Johnny’s chest, balancing it over the coins of his nipples.
“Stay still, don’t let that fall off,” Eric admonished.
Next he produced the red scarf, which he dragged sensually over Johnny’s skin, tickling him so he wriggled a bit and the ruler tipped and then fell to the bed. “Oh dear,” Eric said, his voice low, but his eyes twinkling, “you’ve only been tied down a minute and already you’ve disobeyed me. You’ll have to be punished, you know.”
Johnny started to say something. He’d been silent since the shower. Eric stayed his speech with a hand to his mouth, the fingers pressing against his lips. “No, no, no. Not a word. Not a word unless I tell you to speak, understood? If you become frightened, afraid for your safety, and only then, you may speak. The only word you may say is ‘Sir’. That will get my attention and if I decide so, then you may ask me whatever you need to.”
He took his fingers away and Johnny did not speak. “That’s better,” Eric said. He drew the scarf over Johnny’s body, trailing the tip under his arms and down his sides so Johnny shivered and wiggled, a little cry escaping his lips.
“Tickles, huh?” Eric said. “And you can’t get away. Well, don’t worry. I’m not interested in tickle torture. I prefer the real thing.” He took a long, sharp-looking knife from the night table and held it up in front of Johnny. “Are you afraid of the sight of your own blood?”
Johnny was breathing heavily now. “Jesus, Eric,” he whispered. “What the fuck?” The muscles in his arms were bunched, his hands squeezing into fists. “Please, I don’t think I—”
His words were cut off as Eric slapped him across the cheek. Johnny gasped, his expression stunned, but he closed his mouth. Quietly Eric said, “Johnny, love. Listen to me. This isn’t a game. This is for real. This is a test. You really want to fail it so soon? Don’t tell me what you think or don’t think. I don’t care. I will decide what you can and cannot do, do you understand?”
More gently he added, “Part of the test is about trust. Do you trust me? Haven’t you spent enough time with me to know, to really know in your bones, that I would never hurt you? Never put you at risk? I showed you the knife because if I wanted to, if I wanted to, I could cut you. And, someday, obviously not now, you’ve clearly demonstrated you’re far from ready, but someday you will have the grace to accept it if that’s what I decide.”
Gently he kissed Johnny’s forehead. Johnny kept his eyes closed but his breathing had slowed to something closer to normal and his fingers uncurled. “I had hoped you would have understood that,” Eric continued, “but trust is earned and obviously I haven’t earned it yet with you. That’s on me. I’ll have to do a better job.”
He set down the knife and sat on the edge of the bed, bending over to kiss Johnny’s face—his eyelids, his cheeks, his mouth. Johnny parted his lips, kissing Eric back. After a few moments Eric stood. “Are you okay? Do you want to continue or have you had enough for now?”
Eric waited quietly. He tried to keep his voice neutral, not wanting Johnny to know how much it mattered to him that Johnny want to continue. He knew he would want Johnny in his life even if this was as far as they could go—where a little light bondage and a little service were the most Eric could expect from his lover as far as BDSM was concerned—but he knew in his heart he longed for more.
“Sir,” Johnny’s voice was quiet but confident. “I want more. Please, Sir.”
Eric’s heart soared, but his voice was calm as he answered, “And you shall have it.”
Taking the ruler he lightly tapped Johnny’s cock through the red silk. Johnny moaned, turning his face to the side, away from Eric. Experimenting, Eric hit him harder and Johnny jumped a little but otherwise was still.
“Open your eyes,” Eric commanded. “Watch me.” When Johnny’s clear green eyes were focused on Eric, he again took the sharp kitchen knife and brought it close to Johnny’s body. Deliberately he slipped the blade just under the fabric of Johnny’s underwear, at the hip.
Johnny’s breathing again became labored, his eyes now fixed on the knife, but to his credit, this time he stayed silent. Slowly Eric slit the fabric, easily tearing the silk with the sharp blade. Johnny’s cock sprang from the ruined underwear, fully erect, its tip gleaming in the candlelight.
Eric placed the knife back on the night table. Taking the ruler, he lightly smacked Johnny’s cock and then his balls. Johnny moaned a little and Eric struck him harder, the sound of the wood smacking against flesh.
“I can do what I like, can’t I, slave? You’ve nothing to say about it, do you?” Johnny was breathing hard as Eric struck his erect shaft over and over.
After one especially hard blow Johnny cried out and begged, “Please! Sir! I can’t, that is…” He stammered to a stop, still enough in control of himself to remember Eric’s earlier admonitions.
Johnny sighed, closing his eyes. Eric glanced at his face and then down his long, hard body, noting that despite Johnny’s protests, his cock was erect and hard as steel. Despite how frightened he was, Johnny was hot and ready for more.
“It stings, doesn’t it?” Eric asked. “Let me soothe it for you.” He sat again next to Johnny, leaning over to take his reddened but still erect shaft in his mouth. Slowly he slid his lips over the head, moving down until he’d taken the entire length of it into his throat.
Slowly he undulated his throat muscles, massaging the head of Johnny’s cock as his tongue slid around the base, adding pressure to increase the sensation. Johnny moaned and shuddered, writhing with pleasure in his bonds. When Eric could feel Johnny was close to coming, he pulled away, leaving Johnny’s cock glistening with his saliva.
“You see, with each bit of pain you endure, pleasure will follow. If you’ve earned it, that is. But you aren’t going to come. Not yet. Oh no. You have to take more than a little cock smacking to earn that privilege.” Eric stood again, stroking his own erect shaft through the cotton of his pants. “I’m going to turn you over and smack your ass. We’ll see what kind of man you are then, won’t we?”
He untied Johnny’s bonds, slipping the rope knots from the metal rings, but leaving the cuffs in place on his ankles and wrists. “Turn over,” he ordered.
Instead of obeying, Johnny reached his arms toward Eric, whispering urgently, “Please. I need you.” Eric’s heart swelled at this sweet, needy gesture and he couldn’t help but hug Johnny in response. They held each other for a moment, Johnny squeezing tight, pressing his face against Eric’s neck.
Eric tried to think back to his own first D/s experience, recalling the intensity, the fear, the sexy, hot, dangerous pleasure of that first submission. He knew Johnny was experiencing a range of emotions now. But he felt sure Johnny could take more, much more, and he didn’t want to ratchet down the mood too much. Johnny needed to be kept on the edge of anticipation, with a dash of fear thrown in for good measure.
Thus Eric extricated himself from his lover’s arms and said firmly, “I said, turn over.” This time Johnny obeyed, lying on his belly, his cock bent beneath him so the tip poked down below his balls. His ass was firm and rounded with muscle, with an athlete’s indentation just below each hip. To make it more accessible, Eric had Johnny lift his body a moment so he could slide a pillow beneath his hips. Now Johnny’s ass was invitingly offered up for whatever torture or pleasure Eric cared to devise.
Quickly he retied the ropes, knotting them securely through the cuff rings, again rendering his boy toy immobile. Eric stroked Johnny’s raised ass. Johnny sighed with pleasure and arched up to Eric’s touch. Unable to resist this silent invitation, Eric brought his palm down hard and sudden, smacking one cheek full on.
Johnny yelped as Eri
c watched his own hand print appear in white, which darkened quickly to pink and then red. A matching one on the other side would complete the symmetry, he thought with a sadistic grin, as he smacked the other cheek just as hard. Again Johnny cried out, his back rising and falling as he gasped for breath.
Eric grabbed his own hard cock as he smacked the muscular, sexy ass of his lover, his palms raining down a staccato of stinging blows until Johnny’s entire ass was rosy red and his cries had become a steady whimper.
“Had enough?” Eric finally whispered, triumph soaring through him as he realized Johnny had just taken quite a thorough spanking without once begging him to stop. Now the real test—Eric reached beneath Johnny’s body and grabbed his cock.
Ah! Still hard as iron, hot to the touch, on fire. Johnny not only took what Eric gave, he wanted it. He was turned on by it. Eric knew anyone could take a sensual smacking, especially when bound and with no choice in the matter, but to maintain a raging erection during actual pain, erotic or otherwise, wasn’t something one could fake.
Feeling a ridiculous joy surge through him, Eric held his lover’s shaft, sliding his hand up and down its length. Johnny, still tied to the bed, groaned and tried to lift himself to give Eric better access.
After pleasuring him a few moments, Eric turned his attentions to Johnny’s virgin ass. Gently he spread Johnny’s still reddened, tender ass cheeks. Johnny tensed, and Eric sensed the battle within his lover at that moment—the shame from a lifetime of taboo mingling with the lust from his spanking and being tied down, his cock stimulated to just this side of orgasm.
“Whose ass is this, Johnny?” Eric asked in a low voice. When Johnny didn’t answer right away Eric took the ruler and smacked each cheek, hard. Johnny yelped and jerked as a dark red line appeared where the metal-edged wood had struck him.
“Answer when spoken to,” Eric said roughly. His own cock felt as if it were going to explode. He wanted Johnny’s lips around it—now. But he, like Johnny, would have to earn that pleasure.
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