Collars 'N' Cuffs

by Wayward Ink

  “Tell me, Jack, have you ever had your cock sucked?”

  We both knew I’d had it sucked a million times, but our scene involved my pretending to be a straight college jock, not an experienced man of thirty-four.

  “Yes. A few times,” I answered, trying to nod.

  “Ah, then I guess we’ll have to see how I stack up against your slutty little cheerleader groupies, won’t we?”

  I groaned. Again with the cheerleaders.

  “I already know exactly how I will rate, Jack. By the time I’m finished with you, those perky little sluts will be lucky if you favor them with a smile, let alone allow them anywhere near your gorgeous cock.”

  I already knew how he’d rate too—Rhys, I was certain, had the softest, most talented mouth in the continental US.

  “Most college girls,” he continued, still teasing my hole, “will act like they’re doing you a favor by sucking your dick. You’re going to find out the difference between an obligation–blow job and some serious cock worshipping.”

  Oh God. I’ll be lucky if I last five minutes before blowing my load.

  Ever so gently, he pressed the pad of his finger against my opening, and I couldn’t control the way I arched, wanting him to penetrate me. He pulled back, not indulging my desire. I dropped my head, breathing noisily, vaguely aware of my hair brushing against the seat’s upholstery.

  “Would you like me to suck your cock, Jack? Would you like me to show you what it feels like to have your dick sucked by someone who enjoys doing it?”

  As he asked his questions, he continued to move his finger round and round, pressing, teasing, but never breaching.

  “Yes.”

  “I have a few rules you must obey, Jack. Do you think you can do that? Can you follow a few simple rules?”

  His voice was deep, almost hypnotic, and so different to the animated tones I was used to from Rhys. And still his fingers circled my entrance, driving me insane with want.

  “Yes,” I groaned.

  “Good. Pay attention. Rule Number One: I’m in charge. That means you do as I say. You don’t question and you don’t hesitate. Understood? If at any time you feel you can’t continue, you use your safeword. What’s your safeword, Jack?”

  His talk of safewords was not part of the scene, but I appreciated him reminding me we’d set one up when we first started dabbling in BDSM and role-play.

  “Hymen,” I croaked.

  Rhys couldn’t hold back a chuckle—my safeword being one of a handful of words in the English language highly unlikely to ever cross my lips in a moment of passion or fear, or at any other time, for that matter. In other words, perfect for a safeword.

  Rhys resumed his teasing of my hole to get us both back in character.

  “Rule Number Two: don’t move. I want you to stay perfectly still.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  “And the third rule…. I want you to give our little video camera here a blow by blow—pardon the pun—account of what I’m doing to you. I want you to describe everything. What I’m doing. How you feel. Everything. Understood?”

  My head shot up at his words. I craned my neck until I thought it would snap, and, sure enough, he’d mounted our video camera on a shelf behind the desk. It was a little to the right and aimed directly at the desk and chair. He was going to tape his taking of my ass cherry.

  “Understood, Jack?”

  He began to withdraw his taunting digits and, to my surprise, my ass seemed to develop a mind of its own, rotating and arching in an effort to maintain the contact.

  “Patience, Jack. We’ll get to that.”

  Despite his words, he circled and pressed the pad against my hole one more time. My cock lurched. Rhys chuckled, clearly enjoying toying with me.

  He grabbed the cushion from the chair and placed it on the floor between the front legs of the chair and my spread feet. My cock jerked in anticipation of being sucked by Rhys’ talented mouth. He crawled into the narrow space, adjusting the position of the cushion in order to kneel before my leaking dick.

  “Are you ready, Jack? On second thought, don’t answer that. I can see by the state of your cock exactly how ready you are. Just don’t forget rules two and three.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My body jerked involuntarily when Rhys dipped the tip of his finger into the eye of my cock, collecting precum. His next surprise was to circle my bellybutton with his moistened fingertip. He circled and circled before pressing in and tickling me sensually. The bastard chuckled, enjoying my struggle to not squirm under his teasing touch. With excruciating slowness, he trailed his finger in a straight line down my belly, lingering for a moment at the base of my cock before continuing along my length. Finishing his journey where he began.

  His warm breath wafted over my now hypersensitive flesh and I had to close my eyes and tense my muscles at the almost unbearable urge to thrust myself between his lips.

  Finally, my moment arrived.

  Rhys darted his tongue into my slit, torturing it with pleasure, before traversing my shaft in one long, languid lick.

  “Jack,” he admonished me. “Rule Number Three.”

  I tried to concentrate. “Um, you’re licking me from balls to tip… oh, sweet Jesus. It, ah, feels like the finest grade of sandpaper… soft, but kinda rough at the same time.”

  Rhys removed his tongue and I groaned.

  “Good, Jack. Very good.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to not lose myself in the pleasure of Rhys’ hot mouth enveloping one of my balls. Now I understood why he’d insisted I defuzz myself that morning. He sucked it gently, using his tongue to roll the egg within the sac. I couldn’t help pushing my hips forward. A light tap to the side of my thigh reminded me to remain still and keep talking.

  “Your mouth….” I sucked in my breath when he released one ball only to turn his attention to the other. “Oh God. Your mouth feels hot and wet and… and, ah, so good. So damn good.”

  Rhys hummed in what I assumed was appreciation of my praise.

  An involuntary shiver swept over me and goosebumps raced across my skin when Rhys released me from his mouth, wafting warm breath over my moistened sac, ruffling its surface like the wind does a lake.

  “Christ! Rhys! I mean, Coach, you’re blowing on my balls, and, um…. Oh God, I don’t know how to describe it.”

  “Try harder, Jack.”

  He followed his words with a sloppy lick of my scrotum and another waft of breath.

  “Um, my balls are wet and your breath is warm, but it feels cool on my skin. It’s giving me goosebumps.”

  As if to confirm my words, I shuddered, and another wave of goose flesh bloomed over my entire body.

  “Coach, it makes it so hard for me to stay still. I want to shove my dick into your mouth so badly it hurts.”

  Rhys ignored my not so subtle hint, continuing to lick and probe and waft, chuckling as wave after wave of shivers wracked me. He knew how much it turned me on to have my slit played with, and he used his knowledge ruthlessly, repeatedly delving inside with his tongue.

  “Yes! Oh God, yes! I’m on the brink of coming and you haven’t even sucked on my cock yet.”

  Rhys abandoned his teasing, instructing me in what I was coming to know as his Dom voice. “You will not climax, Jack. Not until I give you permission. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Coach,” I whined, praying he’d soon take pity on me and suck me to completion.

  Rhys grasped me about the base, angled my rigid length toward his mouth, and resumed his teasing swirls and licks. His hands joined in, pumping my shaft and cupping my balls.

  “Dear sweet Lord! That feels so good. My cock is so hard I think I could punch holes through walls.”

  Rhys chuckled, continuing his relentless teasing.

  “Please, Coach… please… I need….”

  “Tell me, Jack. Tell me what you need.”

  “Suck me… please, Coach. Please suck my cock.”

  “Y
ou beg so nicely, Jack.”

  With one last gust of breath over my twitching member, he took the head into his mouth and sucked hard.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  For a moment my body’s natural reactions won out and I thrust my hips. The only thing that stopped me from burying my whole length down his throat was his fist wrapped around the base. My eagerness earned me a slap to my buttocks.

  And that was all it took to remind me of the rules.

  Hold still and talk.

  “Your mouth is so tight and warm. And your tongue….” I sighed. “Your tongue… it feels so goddamn good.”

  Rhys tilted his head, taking more of my length into his mouth. I groaned. He aimed the head at the inside of his cheek, manipulating my glans to tap against it.

  “Soft,” I moaned. “Your mouth is so soft. Like a cushion. It’s like fucking into the warmest, wettest pillow.”

  Rhys did all the things he knew I liked done to my dick—he licked, lapped, kissed, and sucked. He damn well worshiped my aching cock. With each descent, he took a little more of me inside, until finally his nose was pressed against the base of my belly.

  And all I could do was pant and moan. All I could do was beg for mercy and plead for him to never stop.

  I tried to be a good submissive and describe what he was doing and how it felt, but I struggled. Oh boy, did I struggle. Rhys’ blow jobs deserved an entry into the Guinness Book Of World Records. I’d defy a porn star to remain coherent when Rhys set his mind to rob him of it.

  And then he went for the kill shot, using the technique he knew would bring me to my knees.

  He worked his throat, swallowing firmly and deliberately. So strong were the contractions it was as if he were pumping me with his fist. Over and over, until I thought I’d pass out from pleasure.

  “Yes! Oh God, yes! Your throat… it’s… it’s like, um…. Christ, like it’s masturbating my dick.”

  My lower body shook violently as I tried to resist the urge to thrust.

  “Please, Rhys—Coach, I need to come! Please let me come!”

  Rhys’ answer to my desperate pleas was to hum, knowing the vibration would unravel me further.

  “Coach… please. I can’t take much more. Please… it feels too good. Please,” I begged, panting like a prize fighter who’d gone ten rounds in the ring.

  Rhys took pity on me and loosened his grip on my ass, giving one cheek a light tap, signaling his permission for me to fuck his mouth.

  And fuck it, I did.

  With reckless abandon.

  And still he hummed and swallowed, working my needy cock until I couldn’t hold back my climax any longer and came screaming and cursing, unleashing a torrent down his gullet.

  “Yes! Coming! Coach, I’m coming! So good… it feels so fucking good!”

  As I spilled the last drops of my seed, Rhys’ sucks turned soft, tenderly laving my spent dick.

  I trembled, speechless, my legs weak. My shoulders shook under the pressure to keep me from falling to my knees. I could scarcely comprehend how masterful Rhys had been. How good he’d gotten at the whole control–domination thing in such a short time.

  I was spent. Sated. But one glance down at the thus far unused lube told me our playtime was far from over.

  Rhys crawled out and patted me affectionately on the rump. “Not bad, Jack. Though your, ah, sense of description was somewhat lacking toward the end.”

  “Sorry, Coach. I’ll do better next time.”

  Rhys nodded. “I don’t think I need to ask how I rated.”

  “No, Coach. You were the absolute best, sir.”

  “Do you know what happens next, Jack?”

  “Yes, Coach,” I squeaked, my nerves returning. “You’re going to take my ass.”

  “Yes. Your ass is mine and I’m going to take what’s mine. Tell me, Jack, have you ever had a cock up your ass?”

  Rhys knew very well my ass was virgin territory; that I’d always topped. “No, sir.”

  “Well, you’re in for a treat then, young man.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  I followed his movements as he untied my hands while he spoke, seemingly in no hurry to unwind the scarves.

  “We won’t be needing these because I’m not only going to take your ass….” He paused dramatically. “You’re going to give it to me. Willingly. In fact, you’re going to beg me to take it.”

  I gulped, my gut knotting—I could only imagine what he was going to do to me to get me to the point of begging.

  My wrists freed, I reflexively rubbed them, though they were surprisingly unmarked. I continued to rub and roll my shoulders in an effort to relax them after the work they’d done to support my weight during Rhys’ conquering of my dick.

  “Take a step back.”

  I obeyed, watching silently as he grabbed the lube and placed it on the desk before moving the chair out of the way.

  Standing aside, Rhys indicated the desk. “Stand in front of the desk, facing it, and spread your legs wide.”

  I complied, clasping my hands behind my back, though he hadn’t asked me to.

  “Closer. Grab your dick and rest it on the desktop.”

  Once I was in position, he nodded, smiling. “Good boy.”

  I ducked my head to hide my smile, for a boy I was not. Neither of us were. We were grown men and, in point of fact, I was nine months older than Rhys. I gave myself a mental shake, willing myself back into character.

  “Bend over, rest your arms on the desk, and grip the far edge.”

  A shiver ran through me as the weight of my torso pressed my hot but flaccid cock into the smooth and cool surface of the desk.

  “Nice. Very nice,” Rhys murmured, caressing my buttocks. “Now that we’ve had the entrée, how about we enjoy the main course?”

  I shivered again. This time at his words.

  “The same rules apply, Jack. I command. You obey. You keep still unless I give you permission to move. And you talk. You tell my trusty camera everything you’re thinking, feeling, and experiencing as I take you. Paint the picture with words. In detail. Be descriptive. I want our future audience to know by your words exactly what’s happening to you. I want them to live it through you. We’re going to fuck them with your words.”

  Audience? What the hell? Who? I hope to God he means him and me.

  My body surprised me. Despite my fear at just whom he meant by our future audience, my cock began to engorge and, if I wasn’t mistaken, dripped my arousal on the desktop.

  I heard rather than saw Rhys drizzle lube on his fingers, and I most definitely felt rather than saw them when he traced an ever-decreasing circle around my furled bud. I instinctively clenched.

  “Relax. Slow breaths. Push out. And… talk.” His voice was low, soothing, almost inviting, and I found myself obeying.

  Hyperaware of the camera and the possible audience who might, at a later date, view my deflowering, I spoke of Rhys in the third person. There was a quiver in my voice and I wondered if Rhys could hear it too.

  “Um… the lube’s cold, but Coach’s fingers are warm, and he’s, um… circling my hole, and it… and it… it feels, um… good.”

  He continued his circuit, applying gentle pressure to its center at the end of each rotation.

  “Carry on, Jack,” he encouraged.

  “The lube feels cool,” I repeated. “And it feels, um… slick. Slippery. Oh God, he’s pressing against my hole. He’s pushing his finger into my hole. I can feel it slowly sliding in! Oh my God! He’s inside me. His finger is inside me.”

  I could scarcely believe the way my channel gripped its intruder. I wasn’t sure if my body was trying to draw him in or push him out.

  Rhys’ in-out motion decided me. I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  My moans filled the room, and despite knowing I was breaking one of Rhys’ rules, I bucked back against his questing finger. The action brought with it an awareness of my excitement—my cock was sliding over the desk in a pudd
le of its own precum.

  “My cock is as hard as steel. I’m leaking all over the desk… I, aagh…. Oh God, two! He’s added a second finger. Dear sweet Lord, it burns. I feel so full… so stretched. Aagh… damn… it’s so good…. My heart is pounding… I… I can’t think,” I groaned, dropping my head to the desk with a light thud.

  “Good boy. You’re doing so well, Jack.”

  “Oh God, Coach. It’s so intense,” I wailed, squirming under his touch.

  “So you like it, Jack? You like my fingers in your ass?” Rhys demanded huskily.

  “Yes! Sweet Jesus, yes. I love feeling your fingers sliding in and out of me. My balls… my cock… they’re aching. I want to touch them so bad.”

  “But you won’t, will you, Jack? Not until I give you permission.”

  I groaned my obedience.

  The sensations radiating out from my ass almost consumed me, leaving me barely aware of my surroundings, until….

  “Oh my God! Three! I think Coach has three fingers inside me. Aagh. Oh God. So good. I feel so full, and it feels so good.”

  As full as I felt, I wanted more. Once again, I ignored the rules in my need, bucking back against Rhys’ hand. My cock was making one hell of a mess on the desk, leaking like a sieve.

  “Oh God, Coach. It feels so fucking good. I’m so turned on. So ready. Please—”

  “Soon, Jack. Soon.”

  If I thought I was ready after having three of Rhys’ digits inside me, his hooking his fingers around and pressing against my prostate nearly made me come.

  “Oh my fucking God!” I screeched, losing control of my body and arching off the desk. “Oh my fucking God!” I wailed again.

  “Tell your audience, Jack. Tell them how good it feels when I press against your sweet spot.”

  “It does,” I moaned. “It feels so good. Every time Coach hits it…. Oh God. Every time he touches it… I want to come. I want to come so bad. It feels so damn good! I’m shaking.”

  Without warning, Rhys withdrew his fingers.

  “No! Please put them back. More, Coach, please. More.”

  He chuckled at my needy pleas. “How bad do you want my fingers back inside you? Tell me. Tell the camera.”