Another cold morning breeze shook Darius from his dreams, and drug him back to the stench of reality as he rolls over, grazing over the ass of a stranger. It is the silky-smooth realization that he was nude that brought to the forefront of his mind that his arm has fallen asleep. The unfamiliar sting of weight on his arm brought into view the blond curls belonging to an evening’s conquest. Leaning in closer, he tried to slide loose, only to be greeted with more resistance. He wanted to be free of this bind. He recalled fumbling into the bar the night before, in search of something to ease the tension swelling in his jeans. There had been some talk about a new cruise spot for gays and since Darius hadn’t been able to fuck a guy in quite some time, he figured he’d give it a shot. It was getting difficult to fend off the women he worked with, and school was becoming a pain. He vaguely remembered buying some twink a drink or two, and having them fawn over him. Was this the person? Attempting to piece together the night only further amplified the throbbing in his head and added more fuel to his ever-growing desire to leave before whomever he was next to arose.
Regardless of who this person was, Darius couldn’t deny the fact that they did smell nice, and from what his morning wood could tell, they were clearly worth falling asleep next to. There was a slickness to the boy in his arms as he ground up against him, the residue from the lube. How many times had they gone that night? More so, why couldn’t he remember? As his eyes adjusted to the early morning haze and more of the scenery became obvious, he could see random articles of clothing hanging from the strangest places. His underwear was too far out of reach for a stealthy retreat to the waiting world. His chest grazed against the others back and he was soon greeted with a lazy stare. He was white. Cute in the face, minus the facial hair. Darius wasn’t one to turn down a sexy stash, seeing as he rocked his fuzz with pride, but this one had ingrown hairs. There was also a pungent odor drifting from the strangers’ gaped smile. He reeked of pot and something else. “I didn’t think you’d still be here when I got up.” His voice was another story. Surprisingly deep and rugged, given his appearance.
“Yeah, I guess I did stick around. Although it’s a bit hard to simply leave when you’re crushing my arm.” Tactless one, that Darius.
“Hm, didn’t hear you complaining last night, big guy.” The blond shrugged off and rolled away from Darius, and slipped out of bed. His body was another surprise. He was abnormally fit for such a tiny frame, with a dick to match. Darius couldn’t seem to break contact until he was forced. Watching the flat assed male walk away, he caught a glimpse of something dangling between his legs, the condom from last night. Oddly enough, Darius was happier with the fact that he wore a condom than disgusted by the fact that it was dangling out of his bottom’s ass. ‘At least I used protection. Take delight in that.’ He repeated to himself as he heard something fumbling around in the bathroom Curly had retreated to.
“Are you alright in there?” Darius questioned aloud as he slipped out of bed and grabbed a torn tank top that was lying around to wipe the residue from his dick.
“Yeah, just taking a bump.” A what? No, he couldn't have heard that right. The flicking of a lighter confirmed his suspicions. He’d bedded a druggy. “You don’t mind, right? We had talked about it last night before we got to it, but you were three shades to the wind by then.” What did he mean by that? Had Darius done something out of his nature? Shaking that fear from his head he gathered up his belongings and shuffled to the foot of the bed, avoiding the random piles of trash that decorated the room. He responded something to Curly that required a wait before the male appeared in the doorway.
“What?” Darius inquired as he stared at the male staring at him.
“Nothin’. Just rememberin’ how much I begged you to cum in me last night. I don’t know what the big deal was anyway. It’s not like there’s a chance to make matters worse. Right?” The overload of information was far too much for him to process.
“Make matters worse?” He felt he would soon come to regret that.
“Yeah. We both have it, so it’s not like we can do much about it.” Darius’s eyes widened. Everything had been made clear in spades. He had to get out of that house. He had to get away from this toxic environment.
“I think it’s about time I get to work.” He lied, somewhat.
“Uh-huh.” Curly replied, seeing through his obvious discomfort. “Well, leave the door open. I’ve got some people coming over later.” No sooner did he finish his thought was Darius dressed and out the door of the apartment complex on the upscale part of town. He had no clue how he managed to find his way here, but he was going to forget it the moment he got home.
(Later That Day)
He was tormented. Writhing in angst as every cell of his body was set alive with sexual bliss. His skin grew hot with intense longing as he panted heavily, moaning occasionally, and grunted as every advance from his partner overloaded his senses. The beads of sweat rained from his brow as he attempted to calm himself with savage thoughts, only to have nails graze just past his shoulder blade and force him further into the depths of sexual tension. It was clear through the almost barbaric grunts that he craved to pillage her village, however he was fully aware that any attempts at even cross her bridge would lead further denial. Crying for mercy he began pleading for some semblance of mercy but the true master of this dance left him convulsing and whimpering with nothing but a soft breath and loving caress.
“Is this a new type of game you've created for me?” He questions.
“The same game, just different rules.” She replied.
‘I’m not sure I’m fond of this, this may be too much for me’ he began thinking to himself, but as each stroke of her fingers proved otherwise, he was soon convinced that it wasn’t just the idea but more the unknown that provoked this unseemly beast swelling in his lower regions. He wanted her. He wanted all of her, and needed to feel her grip along his length. But he was more thankful for the wait, than the consummation.
Sighing to himself, he leans back and for the first time that evening, grasp as the only reasonable degree of control he could, and removed his glasses. They’d been fogged by his heavy breathing and as he threw them aside and returned to lap, he moaned with a longing unlike any other. Her submissive had returned to her side, and was ready for more. The red lights flash on and a camera is silenced as the first scene is drawn to a close.
Rage. The only thing that could describe the emotion swelling behind his eyes was rage. He’d been trying to calm himself from the initial bat of torture by sucking the life from his cigarette. However, no reprieve found him and as his heat radiated from his very pores, and his hand drug along the bridge of his nose, he knew that there was only more awaiting him. He’d signed up for an audition for some movie that would only later be released to musky bookstores and backwater porn sites. He’d been regretting the decision since the scene had been crafted. But it was unlike Darius to quit in the face of adversity.
His phone came alive and he scrambled through the useless texts until the most recent had come to the top of the screen. It was someone he’d been waiting to speak with all evening, but given his current circumstances, he was reserved to evasive words and callous dismissal. No pleasure was found in that avoidance, but it was required if he was to keep his sanity and wits about him before returning into the perpetual lion’s den. Such as the Leo he was. The chilling wind hardened his nipples, pulling them to the earth by the weight of the steel piercing them. Hugging himself tight with one arm and ashing his cigarette with the other, he huffed an agitated sigh and consented to return to the stage set before him and the woman awaiting his return.
The aroma of leather and latex permeated the air as Darius returned from the brisk cold of the Motor City to the punishing stares of the woman in green. The venom in her eyes matched only by the tint in the steel bone corset hugging her ample form and drawing all his attention to her breasts. He imagined for a moment severing the confines of his contract, closing the space between them, and sinking his teeth into her neck and grabbing a handful of her ass, the same ass he’d been itching to fuck for the past three days.
He envisioned himself taking in her scent, and gripping her corset as her breasts would soon find themselves vice gripped by his palms, exploring every inch in gross detail. There would even be several tugs to her nipples to evoke a raspy breath while his previously occupied hand would find itself trailing down the noticeably saturated panties, slipping in through the side to stroke her moist lips before straggling back up towards her sexually engorged blossom. Then, like clockwork, his mouth would leave her nape and as her body would fall limp to his control allowing him to sprawl her out across the rustic bed frame and finger her pleasure strings, using her nipples as nobs to fine tune her moans. He could practically taste every inch of her, could feel her heat radiate across his length. He’d let her cry out any name she wanted, so long as her face has buried in the pillow so he could thrust deeper and deeper repeatedly. He could turn her into the bitch he knew her pussy craved to be and just before making her cum. The crack of the whip snapped the fantasy.
Darius cocked to attention as the pedal pushers pulled the lady in green closer to him. To the naked eye she seemed almost harmless, compliant in fact, however, after three days locked in a horribly ventilated room littered with fake sceneries and leather props, she was all to the contrary. This woman, nameless to all but the man who hired her, was the personification of self-empowerment and dominance. Under normal circumstance she could have been the typical red headed school teacher, silently grading test and the object of lust for every teenagers’ wet dream. Nevertheless, as she sauntered over to Darius, he felt weighted by the shame she’d soon bequeath upon him. He’d learned that this woman spoke with no words, performed with no script, moved with no stride, and every motion or lack thereof was sign of a pending torment all whom dare cross her would feel. Her lips, a plump rose, thorn and all, had curled into a sadistic smirk all but telling that he’d soon be subject to some unspeakable torture for the sake of revenge. He’d given away, somehow, that he’d thought about dominating her without realizing that once he stepped inside he was no longer free to explore his own thoughts. Contrary to fantasy, his ass was hers, and both knew it.
She hadn’t said a word most of the down time between set moves, and he feared for the moment she spoke.
“Action!”, the director called, and Darius gulped as he found himself bare and exposed before the red light of the camera. He was positioned across the bed, tied. Bound and contained to the artistic capabilities of his mistress. He could hear the fuzz of what he had hoped was music, and out the corner of his eye there was a couple serving as his fluffer. As agreed, there were two women, gorgeous and fully nude. He wanted to get up and join them but the swishing sounds of the crop twirling in his captors perfectly manicured fingers spoke otherwise. He could see the betrayal in her eyes, as if he’d done something unforgivable and for a moment Darius felt remorse. He wanted to take back his thoughts, and return to the pleasant exchange of moans and grunts from before, but his breach of their mutual understanding was inexcusable.
She began his punishment by ghosting the cold, studded end, of the crop at his inner thigh. She looked broken, a shell of a woman torn down by deceit. Her primal nature to control dominated her motions as he felt the sting of a less than forgiving slap against his inner thigh. He winched at the pain, but wiggled slightly as she continued her advance across his body. Ignoring his aching groin, the silvery studs traced an outline of his abs, treating each one as a speed bump and slowly coaxing a response from him in the form of a guttural growl. Soon she arrives at her second destination and strikes his right nipple. Once again, he feels the weight of the piercing as he grows harder. Doing his best to avoid making matters worse by closing his eyes, Darius glances up at her as she towers over his restrained being. She is smiling. But not at him. She is looking past him, as if at a memory of a long-forgotten love. She is devious in her progression, towering over him and leaning down so that he was tormented with the clothed pressure of her vagina looming over his salivating mouth, while her nails clawed across his chest. Before he could fully process what had happened, another bite from the crop found its way along his other thigh.
Her tease reminded him of his sin and as she returned upright, her expression made him fully aware of her effect on him. He’d been leaking pre-cum, in ropes, for the camera. She was milking him for every ounce of his essence. His head rolls back and he is punished for allowing himself to feel pleasure. She is at his left side now, and so is the pain as she punishes his ribcage with an almost hateful strike. He is reminded of her disgust. For the first time in the past three days, he is fearful of what is to come, as she tenderly massages his balls and shaft with the virgin side of the crop. Circular motions stimulate his faucet as he turns his head. The fluffers are motionless, captivated by him, when it should be the other way around. He is embarrassed at their expressions and closes his eyes. A pitiful snivel escapes his lips and a taunt is the only answer he receives. “Look at me.” Her voice is cold, unfeeling, unnerving. Their gaze match and unspoken slurs and evil thoughts exude from him. He wanted to reach up and show her exactly what she’d done to him. Another nail in the coffin for his Lady in Green, arousing a sickly-sweet smile as she leans down over him. Her hair draping over them both. He could smell the lilac and ginger in her skin and could almost see tears welling in her eyes when she whispered, “Two for flinching”. His mind shut down as two piercing smites reached his rib-cage and just below his balls.
The director, on the edge of his seat, nearly doubled over and gripped his cock as Darius released a blood curdling yelp. The man in charge of this production had wanted in on the action, forcing himself back into his seat as he begrudgingly called for a break and promptly rushed to his office for a much-needed release.